“Whatisthat?” he growls. “Everyone in the Yeavering drinks it.”
“It’s tea.” I take a sip of the fragrant brew, something the Yeavering does well and probably the best I’ve had outside of Yorkshire. “Do you want to try it?”
I offer him the cup. He narrows his eyes at it, as if it’s some sort of weapon. Then he takes it from me and lifts it to his lips, keeping his gaze entirely on me as he sips at it.
Linton smacks his lips.
“Not as bad as I expected.” He hands the cup back to me. “Although I prefer my usual choice.”
He gives me a dark, hungry look.
“We can’t let the bread burn,” I warn him.
“I wasn’t going to,” Linton says, taking my hand and running his long, clawed fingers down over my wrist and up my arm.
He gives me the biggest of blood red eyes. I can’t help but snort a laugh. Linton will clearly do anything but ask me if he can feed. I shove my wrist under his nose and take another sip of tea. The tip of his dark tongue pokes out, laps over my skin before his mouth closes over it and the familiar feeling of bliss flows through me with the first long draughts Linton takes.
Heat pools between my legs, but I brazen it out. I’ve already been railed by the mothman once in the last twelve hours, and while I would very much love to be plundered by him once again, I have bread to bake.
And I can’t possibly fall for him, can I?
LINTON
Ilike the kitchens in the stronghold. They have the scent I associate with my mate. Of food cooking, the strange round items she likes to make, and the larger ones. Plus, when she feeds me while we wait for them to burn in the big hot ovens, I don’t think I ever want to leave.
Although the full moon is coming and I will be fully recharged. The stronghold cannot keep me in from that moment on. The brothers know this, and I know they will entice me to stay. They hope to change what I am, like they do for every creature which passes over their threshold.
But I have no desire to end up at anyone’s mercy again. The Faerie thought they could control us. They were wrong.
The residue of those images come to me in the night when my defences are at their lowest. Only this time, my Kaitlyn was there. Her face the first face I saw, her scent invading my senses in the best way. Her body curled against mine. She is perfection.
She saved me from myself.
And her blood is the sweetest of the sweet.
“I need to check on the baking,” she murmurs.
I release her, hoping I haven’t taken too much. Kaitlyn goes to stand, wobbles, and sits back down.
I’ve taken too much. My heart slams against my chest as her face pales.
“Kaitlyn.” I pull her into my arms. “I’m sorry I fed. I was thinking of how much I enjoyed being with you last night. I forgot myself.”
“It’s okay, Linton,” she says, her eyes half closed as she goes limp in my arms. “You didn’t…”
And her hand flops out to one side as those stunning eyes finally close.
“What did you do, Bluecap?” A witch rounds the corner and glares at me.
“Nothing.”
“You have taken her blood. I see it on your lips,” she fires at me.
I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth. There is a dribble of my Kaitlyn’s blood on it.
“She is my mate. She lets me feed.”
“The Bluecap is drinking blood!” she yells, not taking her eyes from me. “He has killed the human.”
