The chains that held him didn’t give an inch, not even when he was sure he would dislocate a shoulder from the effort he was expending to wrest them from their moorings. He was weakened from lack of blood and from sheer bloody terror.
If he’d been capable of crying, his face would have been tear-stained.
He screamed.
Over his screams, a quiet mechanical grinding noise lodged itself into the tiny corner of his brain not consumed by fear. Sorley gulped, and in the split-second hesitation, he saw movement in the window. His terror turned to hysterical laughter as he watched the previously invisible, impenetrable-looking blind roll down, its progress smooth and steady, blocking out every last vestige of the daylight.
Dry-eyed and nauseous, Sorley attempted to sob silently as he tore into the blood packet with desperate fangs. Fuck it; if it did make him sick or it was poisoned, at least it would soothe his throat on the way down.
3
GETHIN
Gethin decidedan entire twenty-four hours was too mean, so he was back upstairs before midnight. He’d seen and heard the way the vamp had lost his shit over the impending dawn, and had been a little too satisfied at having rattled him so thoroughly. “Fucker shouldn’t have broken in,” he’d muttered at his reflection in the hall mirror when he stopped to check the day’s post — rather later than usual, but then again, he’d had a very late night, and disturbed sleep when he finally got to bed.
The vamp was slumped disconsolately, although he must have heard Gethin approach. His auburn eyebrows rose a fraction, but otherwise he didn’t move.
“Evening, sunshine.” Gethin spun last night’s chair around and straddled it backwards, leaning his brawny arms across the back. “You look a little the worse for wear. Didn’t you sleep well? I wonder if that could be the lack of blood, a certain irritating light source, or…ooh I dunno, maybe the constant tick-ticking of your conscience keeping you from a pleasant slumber? Any ideas?”
The vampire snarled. “You’d do well to release me while you still have all your limbs. You have no idea the shit you’re going to be in once I’m free and my sire hears about this.” His expression suggested the likelihood of Gethin retaining his head was minuscule, but as well as the hard sneer, there was a hint of, maybe fond confidence in his master?
Gethin chuckled. “Oh dear, it’s going to be like that, is it?” He steepled his fingers and regarded the man, feeling almost sorry for him. Almost. “Well, Mr Sorley Hetheridge-Parker, progeny of one Dalziel Millar, I’m afraid your threats don’t scare me.” He noted the way the vampire’s nostrils flared — the only sign he gave he was even listening — before continuing. “I spoke with Mr Millar earlier this evening. He wasn’t overly impressed with your actions. I believe his exact words were…” He paused for effect. “‘Please remember the Council rules. No permanent harm.’ Doesn’t sound like he’s about to come galloping through the night on a pale steed to rescue you from the big bad wolf, does it?”
Hetheridge — there was no way he was thinking about the little snot in double-barrelled terms — wrenched his head towards the window at Gethin’s words. His limbs were trembling, just a little, but enough that he must be at the very end of his reserves. Gethin figured he was trying not to let him see how upset he was. Surely the silly boy must have realised Millar wouldn’t stand by and condone his actions. Or maybe he’d been deluding himself. A crush could be so encompassing one might forget that it didn’t go both ways. Gethin had been on the wrong end of a crush once or twice himself. The way the bloke spoke of Millar suggested longing. This was likely to be a painful night, with the scales not so much falling as being ripped from his eyes after Gethin’s pronouncement.
He stifled a laugh that he’d mentally referred to Hetheridge as a boy. He might look young, but he’d been roaming the planet for three centuries so he was presumably usually sharper than this. He stood up and poked a blood packet through the bars of the cage. “Starving yourself to make a point is ridiculous. You know by now it’s not poisoned. You’re obviously thirsty.”
Hetheridge, seemingly under control again, turned and stared at the blood. “You would say that,” he slurred. His fangs had slid down, but he made no move to pick the packet up.
Gethin sighed. “I wanted to make a point, namely that you don’t get to break in here, and get off scot-free. I have no particular wish to see you harmed. You worked yourself into enough of a lather over the dawn to have burned through whatever meagre reserves you had when you got here. I don’t want a case of bloodlust to deal with on top of everything else.”
Hetheridge stared up at him as if seeing him properly for the first time. “You…don’t…want to deal with…” His words were halting but clearly enunciated. “…a case of…” He licked his lips and blinked a few times. “…bloodlust.”
Gethin nodded. “You’re already more than three-quarters of the way there, man. Save us both the trouble and get that down you. Plenty more where it came from.” He gestured at the packet by Hetheridge’s feet.
The vampire blurred. The packet was empty almost before Gethin could blink. Hetheridge stared at him imperiously. “More!”
“Yes, your highness. Don’t you trouble your fancy hide. Just lie back and wait for room service.” Gethin was grinning as he headed to the storeroom behind the kitchen where he plucked three more packets from the special fridge. The vampire’s mood swings were giving him whiplash but he couldn’t deny it was fascinating to watch. He’d been starved of excitement for weeks now. Supernatural life had been conspicuous by its lack of interesting events recently, and a ravenous, scruffy vamp with a superiority complex was enough to pique Gethin’s natural curiosity.Sure, that’s all it is. He’s ‘fascinating’.
He fed the blood a packet at a time to the vampire, witnessing the strain leave him with every sachet consumed. It appeared he’d got over his fear of the blood being contaminated.
The change in the man was fascinating to observe. It wasn’t that he gained any colour, although Gethin wouldn’t swear he didn’t now have the slightest hint of cream in his pale complexion, but he seemed to glow from within. Huh. It made sense: if this was his food and drink, then a good feed would perk him up. Gethin realised he’d never thought too deeply about exactly how vampires’ digestive systems worked. He wasn’t sure if they knew.
Anyway, fact was, Hetheridge no longer looked as if he’d blow over in a stiff breeze. The glow, or whatever it was, highlighted the varied shades of red in his hair, as well as his faceful of freckles. His lower lip was a deep raspberry pink and—
And nothing. Gethin jerked his chin at the empty packets. “Give ’em here and I’ll tidy up. Give you an hour to let that lot settle, then maybe you’ll decide you want to talk about why you’re here. Not here as in being my prisoner, obviously, but what the hell you were doing to land yourself in this mess.”
He scooped up the packets, his stomach curdling a bit at the idea of cold blood as a meal. Perhaps it would have been a kindness to heat it. Nah, the prick was lucky to have got fed at all.
He’d turned for the door when a voice behind him, sounding much clearer than it had ten minutes earlier, said, “I think I was enchanted.”
4
SORLEY
He watched the wolf halt,then freeze, before finally turning around and saying in a tone that suggested Sorley was a tanner short of a shilling, “I beg your pardon? Why the fuck would you expect me to swallow that? You’re a vampire. You’re impervious to that kind of thing.” His breath hitched. “Aren’t you?”
Sorley struggled to sit up within the confines of his prison. “I was in…Leeds, I believe. No, I’m sure. Leeds. There was a nightclub, I think…”Why is everything so hazy?He noted the clean, warm scent of the wolf as he came nearer. It should have repulsed him, but for some reason, it felt more soothing than sickening. “I think, no I know, there was a man. He kept suggesting we leave and go outside. He said he wanted to feed me. That it would be an honour.” His brain hurt with the effort of recalling the night, dragging it up from a deep dark cave one frame at a time.
