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I froze in horror as the papers settled.
Bobby stood in the space where Grace had been, his arms wrapped around Moth-girl, his mouth open wide in a snarl, fangs gleaming white and needle-sharp. Moth-girl was pressed against him, crying, her head instinctively flung back to offer her throat because of the vampire’s nearness. Bobby lowered his head to strike, and the gems in the silver circlet sparked yellow with magic. He roared in anguish, lurched back and collapsed into a heap in front of the lift doors. Moth-girl gave a grief-stricken wail and raked her nails down her own face and neck, leaving blood-bright furrows. The two guards shouted a warning, then tackled her, pi
I dropped to my knees next to Grace, who was lying on her front, unmoving. I grabbed her shoulder—
—and she whacked my hand away. ‘Get your hands off me,’ she snarled, glaring up at me, then her eyes widened as she took in my appearance. ‘Ge
‘Of course it’s me!’ I pulled her over onto her back, frantically patting her down for any injuries. ‘She didn’t get you, did she?’
‘I’m fine, Ge
She stopped speaking, her dark eyes glazing over and her face going blank. Moth-girl’s cries cut out a second later as an u
Mind-lock.
‘Shit,’ I muttered, and looked over at Bobby who was slumped unconscious against the lift doors, his silver-cuffed hands clasped over his stomach. Between his fingers protruded the hilt of the carving knife. He didn’t look so good: dark blood, a strange red-blue hue, bubbled over his bottom lip and a small puddle of blood pooled on the floor. But Bobby was a vampire and he’d survive almost anything other than having his head lopped off, his heart removed, or being turned into a pile of ashes. And he wasn’t the cause of the mass mind-lock.
A sudden tapping noise drew my gaze to Thaddeus, standing protectively in front of Neil Ba
Thaddeus’ warning grin stretched wide, showcasing his ruby-encrusted teeth. As he and I stared towards the entrance the question I should’ve asked myself earlier finally jumped into my head.
Why would a fang-gang attack a venom-junkie like Moth-girl, then send her in to HOPE to look for me? It didn’t make sense. The whole thing behind pumping someone up with venom was to get their blood fizzing, so both vamp and Moth would experience the high. Unless they wanted to keep their victim senseless and handy for a sunset snack, there really was no reason not to indulge ...
Unless she was a distraction?
The doors whispered open and my pulse leapt into my throat. Whoever the fuck it was, and whatever they wanted, it was something to do with me, and I wasn’t going to let them hurt anyone else. I started walking towards the entrance.
The doors hissed closed.
But no one had come in ...
... or at least no one that I could see.
Chapter Fifteen
Warmth slipped over me like the summer sun on my skin, heating the bruises that encircled my left wrist and setting my pulse throbbing. I breathed in, concentrating my i
‘Malik al-Khan,’ I murmured, ‘show yourself.’
He appeared as if from nowhere, the nonexistent shadows he’d gathered to him trailing like dark smoke from his body. His enigmatic face was as pale and beautiful as ever, his slanted eyes dangerous black pools that held thoughts I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, his hair a fall of black silk that my fingers itched to touch. Anticipation fluttered as a traitorous part of me whispered I could do that and more once I’d made a deal with him. I shut it up.
‘Shame you couldn’t have turned up ten minutes earlier,’ I said, my voice matter-of-fact. At least he didn’t appear to be showing any ill-effects from whatever injuries he’d sustained. Of course, I could only see his face and hands; the rest of his body was elegantly hidden by a designer suit in his usual black—even his neck was covered between his hair and the high Nehru collar. ‘But as you’re here now, and you appear to have taken control, maybe you can help sort it out?’
He stared at me, a fine line creasing between his brows, pinpricks of anger flaring deep in his pupils.
I frowned. What the hell was he angry about?
For a moment I thought he would speak, then the pinpricks in his eyes turned incandescent with flames; he came towards me, his rage sending shockwaves of burning air that lifted my hair and scorched like the desert sun over my skin. Terror slammed inside me and instinct warned me to flee. But this time I remembered my stepmother’s words: you don’t run, you don’t struggle; it gets a vamp too excited. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stand and face him.
He halted, close enough that the October chill that still clung to his body cooled the heat burning over mine, close enough that the blue veins pulsing under the translucent skin of his throat blurred before my eyes, close enough that the slow, shallow thud of his heart shouted of his need and thirst in my ears.
Not just angry, but hungry too.
Shit. I was neck-deep in trouble here.
I shivered as he smoothed a hand over my head and I felt him twist my ponytail around his fingers. He tugged on my hair, forcing my chin up, leaving my throat vulnerable. My pulse sped faster, jumping under my skin. I stared into his eyes. The flames in his pupils snuffed out, leaving them as opaque as obsidian, a thin film of blood colouring the sclera. Bloodlust. Fuck, he was on the edge of bloodlust ...
My heart hammering with fear, unable to stop the trembling in my body, I placed my palm against his chest, wanting to push him away, knowing I wouldn’t, not when the 3V in my blood urged me to give him what he sought. He lowered his head, but instead of my throat, he touched his lips to mine, demanding that I submit. My mouth opened beneath his almost of its own volition and I felt the sharp sting as his fangs pierced my bottom lip. He pulled my lip into his mouth, sucking painfully hard, and as I tasted the honeyed sweetness of my own blood a whimper of terror escaped me. His other hand closed around my throat, almost choking me as he silenced the sound.
A shudder travelled through his body and the pain of his bite dissipated with his mesma, twisting fear to warmth and lust, tightening my nipples into aching peaks, coiling desire hot between my legs. His hands stroked down my spine, cupped me and pressed me closer, his own body hard. My knees weakened and I clutched at his arms, sliding my tongue between his fangs, wanting what he was offering.
‘ Genevieve.’ His voice sounded rough, somehow desolate, in my mind.
Then he was gone ... ... leaving me trembling, a slice of sorrow lodged like ice beneath my breastbone.
I rubbed at the cold spot, fear, disappointment and need spiralling through me in a whirlwind of conflicted emotions. Malik stood a few feet away, watching me, a considering expression on his face. The blood-kiss, or whatever it was, might never have happened. I touched my fingers to my bottom lip. It felt bruised and tender, and when I took my hand away, a bright bead of blood shivered on my finger. Anger that he’d treated me like a blood-slave, and that I’d let him, pushed the other emotions away. I held my bloody finger out to him.