The Sweet Scent of Blood

‘Okay, okay, I admit it.’ He held his palms out, face full of remorse. ‘And I’m sorry, I was wrong. But it was only brownie magic, Gen, nothing drastic. A lot of people find it useful—’

I threw my arm out, indicating the room. ‘Does it look like I clean and tidy and bake, Fi

‘Hell’s thorns, Gen.’ His eyes widened in shock. ‘Why’s it doing that?’

‘How the fuck should I know?’ I shouted. ‘I’ve never absorbed brownie magic before, and I can’t just let the stuff out, can I? I mean, the spells weren’t exactly user-friendly to begin with, and I’m sure my neighbours would be soimpressed if I turned their kitchens into mini-war zones.’

Alarm flashed across his face. ‘Can’t you just re-shape the spells, tell the magic to tidy or polish or—?’

‘Fi

‘Well, yes, she did, but this is brownie magic, Gen. I didn’t think—’

‘Well, dothink!’ I snarled. ‘They’re still spells, Fi

‘Gods, Gen, I didn’t realise—’ He took a deep breath. ‘My apologies, my Lady. Please forgive me.’ The words were stiff and formal, and totally unlike Fi

I stared at him in disbelief. I’d half-expected him to try and charm me, but not this strange apology. What the hell was he playing at? I raked my fingers through my hair in frustration; I’d had enough of games for one night. And it wasn’t really allFi

‘Fine! Apology accepted,’ I snapped and turned away to pour another drink, the oncoming blood-flush making my hand shake. Damn brownie magic. I’d have to get one of the witches to put up a circle tomorrow so I could defuse the spells—and that was going to be a fun way to spend the day, wasn’t it? Still, that’s what I got for being stupid.

Fi

‘Gen, I really am sorry.’ A frown creased his forehead. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help?’

The tiredness rolled back over me, washing away my anger and leaving behind jagged grains of hurt. ‘Dammit, Fi

His face closed up and his eyes went blank and unreadable. ‘It was a mistake, Gen. It won’t happen again.’

‘Oh fine.’ I threw the cloth down. ‘If you don’t want to explain yourself, then you can just get out.’ I marched over the door and yanked it open.

He came and stood in front of me and I refused to meet his eyes. ‘I’m not leaving,’ he said, his stance determined. ‘Not yet, not until I’ve told you about the trees.’

‘Get on with it then,’ I snapped.

‘It’s not good, Gen.’ He lowered his voice. ‘There’s a vampire watching you.’

Not really a surprise, considering.‘What’s the vamp look like?’ I asked, my voice flat.

‘They said he’s dark-haired, and a bit eastern-looking.’ He looked worried. ‘He’s been hanging around the market, between here and the office.’

The description fit the Armani-suited vamp outside the police station—Malik al-Khan. I glanced at the bruises on my wrist, fear fluttering inside me. Why had he been watching me? Was it just the Mr October business, or was something else going on?

Fi

‘Thanks for the heads-up, Fi

‘I care for you, Gen—’ He paused as I snorted. ‘I know that’s hard for you to believe, after ...’ Anxiety threaded his voice. ‘But I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.’ The scent of blackberries sharpened with his fear curled through the air and I felt the brownie’s magic soothing the hurt that he’d tricked me. I sighed and looked up at him as the urge to ease away his fear rose within me. Suddenly, too tired to resist, I lifted my hand and cupped his cheek. ‘Don’t worry, okay? I’ll be fine.’

He gazed solemnly down at me, moss-green of his eyes darkening as his own magic responded to mine and he gently clasped my shoulders. I gave into need and traced the arch of his brows and stroked my fingertips along the sharp angle of his cheeks. Brighter gold light shot through with green danced from beneath my skin and I held his face in my palms.

And wanted him.

I blew out a breath, and closed my eyes, dragging the magic back. He was fae—my Glamour couldn’t hurt him like a human—but the 3V tainting my blood could harm us both.

‘You need to go, Fi

He caught my arms, gentle fingers circling my wrists, and his thumbs smoothed over the sensitive pulse points, making my breath hitch. ‘Gen, don’t send me away—’

I shook my head.

‘Gen.’ He sounded insistent.

Something clutched inside me.

‘Feel that,’ he murmured. ‘Feel the co

Desire spiked, so fierce it almost made me scream. I gasped and opened my eyes wide. ‘The magic is just trying to push us together, Fi

‘Of course it does! You think this happens between every fae?’ He rested his forehead against mine. ‘If you do, you’re wrong. I’ve never felt anything this strong before.’ His warm scent twisted through me, heat flooding into my very centre. ‘Just think how we could take the magic ...’

I looked up at him. Emerald chips, and something more, glinted in the dark-green of his eyes. Drawing him down, I lifted my lips to his. He brushed his mouth over mine, light, teasing, then pressing harder, using teeth and tongue, burning into fierce demand, his unspoken question searing through my body.

I ached to say yes—

Then my heart shuddered and the coming blood-flush, stronger than before, itched through my veins. I had my answer.

I pushed him away. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’

His chest rose and fell, breathing hard. He threw his head back, horns looking darker, longer than before. I stared transfixed at the rapid pulse jumping in his throat. Then he stepped back, the need in his face smoothing out. Skimming his fingers down the vee of my top, he slipped open the first button, then the next. Want shivered through me again. He touched his fingertip to the heated skin over my heart. ‘In here, you can. Think on that, my Lady.’ Then he turned and left.

Tears pricking my eyes, I closed the door slowly behind him and slid down to huddle against it, listening as the sound of his footsteps—

—was lost, swallowed by pain and anguish as the blood-flush raged through my body.

Chapter Fourteen

Iheaded for Sucker Town, or Greenwich as it’s known by daylight, the heart of the mean times. I’d left my flat using the back way: over the roof and down the fire escape ladder into the garden of St Paul’s Church. A rush of hot air at Waterloo Station signalled the arrival of the tube train. Dropping into a seat, I rubbed the back of my neck, heart labouring in my chest. My body felt like I’d climbed Hugh’s mountain with a bad attack of the flu; I was weak, itchy and craving. I’d have been making the trip anyway, even if I hadn’t wanted to hear the gossip.