He’s tall and lean, with broad shoulders draped in a black blazer and a thin gold chain around his neck in the shape of a family crest I recognize.
He’s a Bloodsoe. Blood-borne, not changed.
That explains the shadow walking…and the superiority complex.
He assesses me with equal measure, taking his time to inspect me, though he is careful not to make eye contact.
“You need me to wipe her, too?” he asks Elliot. “It’ll be difficult.”
You don’t like people in here, do you?Dred’s voice echoes in my mind.I can see why.
Vampire and mind weaver—oh joy.
I’m blessed in many ways, darling.
He passes the thought along with a wink. And I don’t know if it’s the head wound or the fact that I’m standing here like a statue while they talk around me, but I don’t answer him aloud. Instead, I find the steady stream of desire pooling in his stomach as he looks at me.
I don’t take much. There’s only so much I can draw without stimulation, but I take just enough for him to notice that it’s gone.
When he does, he nods, lifting his hands as a sign of defeat.
“Point taken,” he says, licking his fangs. “I can do it, but it’s going to cost you extra.”
Elliot shrugs.
“Not a problem.”
“What’s the story?” Dred asks.
“She was with me all night,” Elliot answers. “But leave Dame. He’s fine.”
Dred holds up a thumb but says nothing more before dissolving into the dark like an ink blot. At which point, Elliot takes my hand and drags me back up the stairs.
This time, we continue past the dormitory levels and the common rooms, all the way to the end of the stairwell, where the door opens onto an empty rooftop. I’m about to ask what we’re doing up here when I notice a very distinct lump, draped in a plain tarp, propped in the far right corner.
“No,” I snap. “Uh uh. No way I’m getting on that thing.”
Elliot doesn’t stop to argue with me; he just rips the tarp off, revealing the shiny black motorcycle, and thrusts a helmet at me.
“Can you teleport?” he asks, knowing damn well I can’t.
“No.”
“Then,yes, you are getting on this thing.”
He slaps the helmet on my head, and I stand there with my arms crossed as he fidgets with the straps. It’s huge, on account of his giant head, so it takes a few tries before he’s satisfied it won’t slide off in the breeze.
Gods, is this the best idea he could come up with?
I rack my brain for any other viable option, but nothing comes to mind before Elliot mounts the bike.
“Come on,” he says. “We don’t have all night.”
I groan as I drag my feet along the pavement and mount the bike behind him.
My arms wrap around his torso, and he yanks me forward by my wrists, pressing my chest against his back.
“Hold on tight,” he directs. “And stop groaning. I don’t see anyone else out here saving your ass.”
