Seamus had a lot of art and a fondness for vases full of flowers. The whole mansion had a rosy, floral scent that bothered Zack’s strengthened sense of smell. Flowers had been a rare commodity in his mortal parents’ house. They were an expense when his family spent its spare money on weapons and research. If a new computer hadn’t been useful for keeping up with his duties as a researcher, Zack was pretty sure he’d have to deal with Cal’s old busted machine for another few years.
Zack drifted down the hall to the grand staircase in the foyer. He could go up to the third floor from this staircase, but he chose to go down to the main floor.
The low, growling hunger in his stomach had been with him since he woke. He’d ignored it because he’d thought Seamus would show up. Now that he knew that wasn’t going to happen, he had to figure out when he should eat on his own. Should he wait?
Naw. He glanced around, seeing no one. Supposedly, all he had to do was call for Grimsby, but Seamus hadn’t said if he’d needed to use a phone or something to do so. Of course, Zack hadn’t seen a phone, so that wasn’t likely.
“He is a magical butler,” Zack muttered to himself. Louder, he said, “Grimsby, I’d like your presence, please.”
Within a minute, the tall, skin-and-bones fey was walking down the hall toward Zack. Grimsby had his hands clasped behind his back. His black hair was grayer, and it was waving counter to his movement. He grinned broadly at Zack, his smile wider than a mortal could’ve pulled off, and dipped his head when he came close. “Young master, I appreciate your politeness in summoning me. What might I assist you with?”
Zack straightened. He wasn’t better than Grimsby, but getting called master was sort of … cool. The way Grimsby acted was slightly deferential, which wasn’t a surprise, but there was an element of respect to his voice, too.
People in Zack’s life respected him—okay, Cal definitely hadn’t—but plenty had. Blake, Kit, Roger, Takashi, Josefina, and Nell all did. But except for that time he dominated Takashi in the bedroom, no one had shown him respect like this. Like he was someone with some power. And this was oddly nice.
“Seamus mentioned that he made arrangements for my feeding tonight and that you could help me,” Zack said primly. “I’m thirsty and would appreciate something to drink.”
Grimsby nodded once. “If you’ll follow me, young master, I would be happy to show you to your selection.”
“Excellent.”
Grimsby headed down the hallway from the direction he’d come, and Zack followed. They made their way through the massive first floor to a room not far from where Seamus had had his annual summit with the GLC’s leadership. With a sweeping bow, Grimsby opened the door.
Inside the room were several wooden posts, each with metal loops fastened onto them. Additional loops were secured on the walls. It was a bare, ancient-timesy, prison-like room.
Three men were bound at different places in the room. They had gags in their mouths. When they spied Zack and Grimsby, their heart rates raced. The cacophony of their beating hearts thundered through Zack. Those thuds were life. Were blood pumping through veins. Were filled with the fear of those who didn’t want to die.
But they were kidnapped mortals. They didn’t deserve death.
A freezing cold spread through Zack, its touch so frozen it scorched him. He needed warmth. The mortals had it.
Just enough. I don’t have to kill. Zack moved toward one man. His legs trudged forward like he was caught in deep water, but when he pushed forward through the pressure, he moved with lightning speed. Suddenly, he was on top of the man, and he didn’t know what to do.
No, he did. But he didn’t want to think that he did.
Every time he’d fed before this, Seamus had been there to guide him through it. To practically shove him into doing what his body needed. But Seamus wasn’t around.
The aching cold wouldn’t end on its own. Zack took hold of the man’s chin and forced his head to the side. A pulse jumped, extending the flesh. That wasn’t where he was supposed to bite, not if he wanted the feed to last.I can stop myself. I can. All I need is a little blood, and I’ll be fine.
Zack sank his fangs into the man’s neck. Hot blood poured into his mouth. He swallowed, and the cold thawed. Thestrength in his limbs was greater. Mouthful after mouthful brought more and more of the warmth into him. He moaned and pressed up against the man, pinning him against the post and drinking deeply. No drop would be wasted. Nothing would slip past his lips. He would take it all.
I’m killing him. But how could he stop when the cold was still there, scratching in his throat?
The blood gained a sharp, pungent flavor. With a gasp, Zack stepped away.
There were only two heartbeats in the room.
He hadn’t meant to, hadn’t been forced to, and yet he’d been too hungry to stop himself. He backed away and ran into one of the walls. A metal hoop dug into his shoulder, and he put a hand on the wall to push away from it. Something invisible but slimy touched his hand, and a jolt made his throat clench. The walls of the room were soaked in fear.And I’ve added to it.
“Young master?” Grimsby called.
Getting called that didn’t sound so fun anymore.
Doesn’t it?his rational voice replied.If you want to lead a coven, you’ll have to be used to a little death. Get a hold on yourself. You can do this.
Zack ran his hand through his hair and took a breath to steady himself. He was still thirsty but not like he’d been before he fed. The last few nights, he’d been able to go most of the night before killing again. Maybe he could get through this one with just the one death. That meant leaving two living men in the room, but he had no idea if they were good men. Did it matter? They knew about vampires, had seen him kill. The practical thing would be to ensure they died anyway.
But he didn’t have to solve it now. Didn’t have to come up with the answer.
