8
Declan
His human looked so unsure.Of everything. He could not blame her. After what she’d been through, he half-expected her to be inconsolable—even feral. But she pulled the blankets up to her chest and fiddled with the edges as he poured two fingers of whiskey into a rocks glass. “Do you drink, Riley?”
“You saw me at the bar. Were you there the whole time?”
“I was. But two pints of Guinness over the course of four hours is nothing compared to the finest Irish whiskey.”
“In med school I drank all the other residents under the table.”
Her matter-of-fact tone drew a rough laugh from somewhere deep inside him. Somewhere he hadn’t realized still existed. Grabbing the bottle, he sauntered over to the bed, handed her the glass, and topped it—and his—off with another two fingers.
“Slainte.”
After he touched the rim of his glass to hers, he took a seat halfway across the room. Between Riley and the door. If she did not try to run at least once during his story, he would be shocked.
Riley’s first sip drained half the glass. “Please, Declan,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I need to know.”
“I am three-hundred-and-twenty years old,acushla. I have existed through wars and famine. I will not die, and only a very few things can kill me.”
“What things?” Riley demanded.
Arching a brow, Declan contemplated how much to tell her. But, he had already promised not to lie to her, and omitting certain…facts felt no better than a lie. “Beheading. A stake through the heart. Silver bullets. And…sunlight.”
Riley raised the glass to her lips, her hands shaking. After another generous sip of whiskey, she set the drink down. “You burn in the sun. Like…in books.”
“Many horror stories and fairy tales are partially—or wholly—based on facts.” He lifted his shoulder casually, then regretted the gesture, remembering how he’d felt when he’d first woken consumed by the insatiable bloodlust of the newly turned. “No one knows when the first vampire came into existence. Or how. But for centuries, we have existed in secret.”
“And you...drink blood.” Her fingers fluttered over her sweetest vein, and she flinched, as if she could still feel the wounds. “You…drankmyblood.”
“I did.” He pushed to his feet and started to pace the room. “The tour company brings twenty people down into my basement every day of the week. When I am hungry, I…glamour one of the tourists, feed from them, and send them on their way.”
Riley’s breath stuttered in her chest, and her gaze held his. Such strength for what she had been through, and his cock twitched, desire washing over him, warming his skin.No.She has been through too much.
If he did not get himself under control, she would notice his erection. Turning away from her, he flipped on the security screens across from the bed. “When the tour guide brings the group into the basement, I use this,” he opened the door to the narrow stairwell, “and wait. I never take more than the human can give. And I leave them with an urge to go back to their hotel and rest.”
“You don’t kill them.”
Declan bristled, then forced himself to calm before he turned back to Riley. “I have not killed for food in two centuries. I will never do so again. There is no need. Half a pint of blood can sate me for two or three days. Most of the humans I feed from notice nothing more than a bit of lingering fatigue for a few hours.”
She worried her lip between her teeth, then reached for the whiskey again. “That’s all you take? Half a pint?”
“Less than you would lose if you donated blood to a blood bank.” He stared down at his bare feet. He’d slept on the floor the entire day. Right next to the bed. Close enough to hear her. To get to her if she woke frightened. Close enough to take her hand and stroke the inside of her wrist gently when she’d had a nightmare around three in the afternoon. “With you, I took more. I…could not resist,acushla.Your blood is…unique. Different from any other. Stronger.”
Her green eyes darkened, sadness drawing a veil over her beauty. “I’m dying, Declan.”
* * *
Riley
The vampire across from her growled, and Riley pulled the covers higher. His midnight eyes turned black, then almost red as he gripped the arm of the chair hard enough the wood cracked under his fingers. “Explain.”
She blew out a breath, then drained the rest of the whiskey. Before she could set the glass down, he poured her another generous shot, then filled his glass with at least two full inches of the amber liquid.
“All the women in my family…we have this weirdthing. Our bodies absorb heavy metals. It’s toxic. My grandmother and mother both died in their fifties. Liver, kidneys, heart…they just give out.”
“You cannot be older than twenty-five,” Declan said.
