Six. It bounced six times. Quin turned to Kit, triumphant.
“Fine. You’ll get your cup of tea,” Kit said, not wanting to dwell on it. “No Mabel tonight?”
Quin took the change in conversation in stride. “I drove out to one of the dog parks today. Taught her a bit of rugby. She’ll make a decent winger one day, but she ran herself ragged. Thought I’d leave her to sleep.”
Kit rarely felt a pang of envy for those free to walk in the sun, but the idea of watching Mabel running around in the light of day held a certain appeal. If he was being honest with himself, so did the prospect of seeing Quin in the daylight.
Kit turned back to the sea, a bitter taste in his mouth.
“You all right?” Quin asked, his voice so low the waves almost drowned it out.
Nowas on the tip of Kit’s tongue.
“Yeah,” he said instead.
Quin didn’t question him. Kit wasn’t sure if he was glad of it or not. Peeking at Quin out of the corner of his eyes, Kit assessedhim. He appeared relaxed, happy to be watching the sea in quiet company.
“Actually,” Kit said, surprising even himself when he broke the silence. “I was envious of your and Mabel’s trip to the dog park.”
“I could take you, if you fancied.”
“A midnight meeting at a dog park? Everyone would think we were up to no good.”
“Nah,” Quin said. “One glance at your face and they’d be convinced that you were innocent. Bet you got away with anything as a kid.”
Kit tensed. “The opposite was true.”
There was the faintest of hitches in Quin’s breath. “I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t start apologising for every little thing that’s gone wrong in my life. You’ll never stop.”
Quin turned his head fully towards Kit, eyes seeing far more than Kit liked. “You deserve at least a single apology.”
Kit shrugged. “Maybe.” In his pocket, he dug his nails further into his flesh. The stones would be bathed in his blood by now. He drew one out. The palm of his hand was stained red. He didn’t check to see if Quin noticed. Kit knew he had.
Heedless, Kit strode towards the sea. He crouched down and stuck his hand under, cleansing the blood even as the salt seeped into the wounds, stinging.
“Kit,” Quin said, then stopped, as if he’d run out of words to say.
“It’s—” Kit started, but Quin cut in.
“Kit.” Quin sounded wretched.
Kit withdrew his hand from the water. This time, he couldn’t bear to tell Quin the truth. “It’s nothing,” he said.
The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.
TEN
Quin
Quin wanted morethan anything to take Kit’s bleeding hand in his own. The second the tang of blood had mixed with the salt of the sea air, Quin’s entire being had gone on high alert, like when his beast sensed a predator. Only there was none in the vicinity but Kit himself.
Quin hoped he hadn’t pushed too far. Kit was still skittish. Quin had to keep reminding himself that Kit wasn’t like a member of his pack. Kit was not only a solitary vampire, but he’d been alone for a long time, unused to casual—or comforting—touches. No matter how much Quin ached for it, he had to tamp down his urges.
He wished he understood why Kit hurt himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. Quin wouldn’t consider himself an observant guy, but he also wasn’t ignorant enough to presume that Kit ever did anything unintended. No, Kit held himself too carefully for that. Every muscle in his body was wound as tight as a coiled spring.
Kit would’ve run a mile if Quin had reached out and done what his instincts told him to do. Even with Quin’s strength, there was no way he could catch a running vampire in hishuman form. Part of Quin, a part driven by his beast, would have relished the chase, regardless.
