The Sweet Scent of Blood

The trees along the edge of the road rustled in the slight breeze as Fi

‘If I remember right, youdidn’t.’ I teased, but my heart wasn’t in it. ‘This was myjob. Youjust came along for the fun of it.’

He stepped in front of me, close enough that I had to look up at him. ‘Not for fun, Gen.’ He traced a finger along my jaw, an intent, almost hopeful expression in his eyes. ‘To get to know you better.’

I dropped my gaze to the base of his neck, my mouth watered and I had to stifle the urge to place my lips on the smooth ta

‘Not biting, Fi

‘Speaking of biting, that was rather interesting, what you told the little faeling.’

‘What did I tell her?’

‘About how we fae taste to vampires.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Wonder what flavour you would be?’

‘I already told you, don’t wander. You’ll only get lost.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He looked at me speculatively. ‘Oranges, maybe,’ he mused.

‘Red hair? Oranges?’ I huffed, striding off. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. Soooonot original.’

Fi

I gave him my hard knobbly elbow in his ribs. It co

‘Speaking of food,’ Fi

Only if he was on the menu. I shook my head. It wasn’t even a euphemism. I had a moment’s fantasy where I said yes: we went out, had fun, and I didn’tspend the evening wanting to rip into his throat. Then I sighed and came back to live in the real world. No way could I go out with him, or any other fae, not with 3V ru

He caught up with me. ‘C’mon Gen, you’ve got to stop torturing me like this.’ With a rueful smile he rubbed a hand over his stomach, then winked. ‘Or at least say yes, then you can do whatever you want with me.’

Way too enticing.‘Fi

A stiff wind hurled itself along the road, snatching the words from my mouth and rushing up through the branches above us.

Fi

I moved back. ‘Look, I’m really not—’

‘Ge

Another gust whipped past us and the canopy of autumn leaves rustled almost like they were laughing.

I frowned and looked at Fi

‘Hell’s thorns, Gen, how should I know? I never learned the language.’

Chapter Four

Dusk coloured the sky like a purple bruise as I headed for my meeting with Alan Hinkley at Old Scotland Yard Police Station, the headquarters for the Metropolitan Police’s Magic and Murder Division. The bodies of vampire attacks, like Melissa’s, are contained in the specialised basement morgue ever since the mandatory fourteen-day waiting period came into force—just in case they spontaneously do the Lazarus thing. Old Scotland Yard is also the one-stop-cop-shop for vampires. Keeping a vamp incarcerated is difficult enough without adding humans into the mix. The only time it was tried—back in the eighties when the vamps were reclaimingtheir human rights—the riot lasted a week and a vampire ended up on an impromptu bonfire, together with a prison guard and three other inmates.

That the vampire was proved i

As I turned off Whitehall, leaving the noise of the traffic behind, a horse’s high-pitched whi

I lifted my bag over my head, settled the strap across my chest to free my hands and slowly walked under the archway that led to Old Scotland Yard. Alan Hinkley was waiting by the police station door. Along the pavement, the street lights created pockets of shadow. As I got closer, one shadow was darker, more solid than the others. My heart tripped and I stopped, staring into the blackness.

The vampire stepped out into the light and stared back.

His appearance was almost a relief.

I played statues, counting under my breath, using my own will to force my pulse to a slow steady thump. It was harder to pull off than I thought. Damn, I was so out of practice. Instinct shouted at me to flee. Bad idea. Never run from a vamp, gets them too excited, all that blood pumping faster and faster. Better to take the gamble that they won’t attack and wait until they’re gone. Of course, that attitude does have its minus points.

‘Genevieve Taylor.’ His chin lifted as he scented the air.

His accent carried a touch of something, not English. Black hair curled into his neck, even blacker eyes glinted, their almond shape hinting of the East. His face was the prettiest I’d ever seen, alive or undead, and a distant part of me wondered why it wasn’t plastered over every billboard in town. And why I’d never seen him before.

I shook my head even as I thought it. It didn’t matter who he was, not when I could feel his mesmabrushing against my mind. I looked past him to Alan, but the blank look he wore had ‘vampire mind-lock’ written all over it. No help there then, not that I had really expected any. In fact, he was going to be more a hindrance if there was going to be a fight.

‘Perhaps Mr Hinkley should wait inside?’ I said, keeping my voice steady.

Alan turned and disappeared through the door without the vampire so much as twitching. I was impressed despite myself, and had to concentrate even more to keep my pulse at its slowest beat.

‘How interesting.’ His voice rolled around me, as rich as sugar-dusted Turkish delight, making my mouth water.

I tilted my head to one side. ‘Not from where I’m standing. ’

The vampire had obviously been young when he’d accepted the Gift, near my own age. His suit was ubiquitous vampire-black, but he must have pulled the darkness around him to hide his pale face and hands. Even without the evidence of Alan’s departure, that trick alone told me he was old, over five hundred, at least. And he looked like he belonged to the classic Armani style rather than the excess of black leather that the younger vamps preferred—not that I could be sure without checking the designer labels, but I wasn’t pla

‘Your eyes are truly remarkable.’ Smooth silk slipped along my skin as his gaze swept over me.