That’s not why I want to do it.
I want him to run. I want him to lead me on a merry chase and when I catch him, because Iwill, I want to sink my teeth into him and drink until I’m dizzy.
Maurice’s lips part on a faint gasp, and I do not know if it is because of my words or the hungry expression on my face. “Tomorrow,” he says. “We’ll do it tomorrow.”
Chapter Nine
Maurice
Ihardlyrestthenextday. I barely manage to at the best of times, but I am restless, pacing my rooms as I consider just what it is I offered Njáll. What he agreed to.
Iwantedhim to agree, of course. After he’d been so patient with me, showing me how to use the phone, something had come over me. I wanted to give him something in return.
It is not a smart thing to do. I know that. If the Huntsman is near, he will punish me for it. I do not believe for a second that his leniency when it comes to Vlad and Grant has any bearing on the rest of the members of his Hunt, and although I am not about to turn Njáll—he is already a vampire—sharing my blood with him is a dangerous temptation.
Our blood can be addictive, though I doubt it will come to that. He will still need some human blood to remain healthy, but mineshould scratch that itch, and, more importantly, it is not about blood at all.
He wants to hunt. He wants to allow his basest, most animal instincts to take over, to be the monster that, deep down, he truly is. The monster we all are. We pass through our bloodlust so quickly, in the grand scheme of things, and it is hard for many vampires to remember clearly, but it is instinctual, too.
I perch on the end of my bed and rest my chin on my hand. I worry, a little, that Grant has not experienced that at all. Of course he is a vampire. There is no denying that. But if one of the Hunt—or any fae-blessed vampire, I suppose—turns others, and they do not experience it… It may not be a bad thing.
It may not be good, either.
I change just before the sun goes down and then make my way to Njáll’s office. He is not there, but he does not like me to wait outside his rooms, and I am not inclined to irritate him tonight. Not after Augustine caused enough trouble yesterday.
I do not trust that vampire, either. Clan business is, however, not truly my concern.
It is half an hour before Njáll arrives, and I am surprised when he takes a seat behind his desk. He murmurs a greeting as he powers on his laptop and I settle into my place on the sofa, simply taking him in.
I know why I have offered all that I have. I feel some sense of pity for him, of course, that he appears so uncomfortable in his new role. I want to assist, but I cannot beyond the bounds that mean I keep him alive.
But it is more than that. It is the way his laugh made me shiver, made my heart thump too heavily in my chest. It is the helpless, irritated look he gave both Augustine and Deacon in turn, even if Deacon could not see it.
Njáll is an attractive man, and perhaps it was foolish of me to believe I would never be attracted to him. Perhaps, too, that isthe most dangerous part of this whole chase. I might give too much away, give him an upper hand he ought not have.
I shake my head, chasing the thoughts away. Njáll looks up at that, faintly concerned.
“Are you all right?”
“Perfectly fine. Do we still plan to…?” I trail off when Njáll glances at the door. There is no one beyond; at least, not anyone close enough to hear.
“Yes,” he says after a moment, cheeks a little flushed.
It does not mean the same thing to him as it does to me, and it should not mean anything to me at all. He will get his chase, and he will be fed—which is a matter of my concern since a hungry vampire is always a dangerous and vulnerable one.
“All right,” I reply, opting for a complete lack of concern as I lean back on the sofa again. I take my phone out of my pocket, pretending to fiddle with it as Njáll works. All I am doing is opening the same application over and over again, hyper-aware of every move Njáll makes.
After what feels like an age, he is done with whatever tasks he feels necessary not to delay, and he gets awkwardly to his feet. “I know a park we can go to,” he says.
“Fine.” I shove my phone away and stand, too. “We’ll walk?”
“It’s a little far for that.”
“The driver?”
“They will keep our location to themselves.”
I nod. I have to trust that he’s done this before; that even if there’s more risk to it now, he knows how to cover his tracks.
