Page 35

But then he swallowed.

It was one gulp. He gagged immediately, his eyes flying back open. His gaze slid to me with alarm.

“Drink,” I told him. “If you want to live, drink.”

He must have believed me—and to be fair to him, I probably seemed fairly convincing—because he drank. He swallowed two more mouthfuls of my blood before I pulled my wrist back.

Already, his heart was beating more smoothly in his chest.

Then he clutched his stomach, gasping in pain. I felt a flash of sympathy for him. The sensation of flesh knitting back together wasn’t especially pleasant. Especially not the kind of internal damage he must’ve suffered.

I slid my hand into his, and held it.

Brent cried silently, tears streaming down the sides of his face, but he never took his eyes off my fangs. I didn’t bother to put them away, either. They’d always been instruments of killing, never healing.

But that changed now. I had changed it tonight.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” I told him, when the worst of it was over.

Brent swallowed hard, looking miserable, but he nodded.

It took me several minutes of sitting with him to realize that the room had gone very quiet. All of the mafia guys were on the ground, not moving. Unconscious, no doubt.

And Thierry, Sadie, and Simone were all gathered on the far side of the room, next to the double doors leading into the kitchen, watching me.

Simone’s eyes were wet and there was a soft, tender smile on her lips. Thierry was smirking at me, but his eyes were glassier than they ought to have been, which was all wrong. Only Sadie seemed entirely unsurprised and unmoved.

When my gaze landed on her, she pursed her lips. “Next time, give him your blood faster.” Then she paused. “Also, less is more. With the amount you’ve given him, there’s an excellent chance he’s going to be intoxicated, possibly for several hours, until it wears off.”

Thierry nudged her—hard—in the ribs.

Sadie shot him a scathing look. But then she sighed and turned back to me. She added, “Well done, Quinn. I never had any doubts.”

Brent sat up—far too soon, probably—and winced in pain. His brows pulled together as he looked from me to the other three.

“Are you guys vampires or something?” He pulled his hand back, turning his attention to me again. “You are, aren’t you?”

“You know, on second thought, perhaps you ought to have let him die,” Thierry remarked dryly, arching a brow at him. “He clearly shouldn’t be allowed to reproduce.”

Brent was made of sterner stuff than I gave him credit for because he openly glared at Thierry. “Not cool. Also, not likely to happen.”

“A small mercy,” Thierry said, smirking at him. “Welcome back.”

Sadie considered Brent with an icy expression. “Yes, we have much to talk about. Such as how your brothers—all eight of them—found you so quickly.”

“Those weren’t my brothers,” Brent said immediately. “They were cleaners. They handle my family’s wet work. They—”

He broke off suddenly and his eyes widened.

“Wait. My dad must’ve…” Brent suddenly went very pale. “Oh God, when I left to warn Allen—er, Derek—he probably sent them to kill both of us.” Then, with dawning horror, he added, “Oh my God. They shot me. On purpose.”

He sounded like he couldn’t quite make himself believe it.

“Why send eight people to kill two humans?” Sadie demanded, frowning at him. Her tone was icy. “One or two would certainly get the job done. You wouldn’t have put up much of a fight. Did they know about us?”

The implication was clear: did they somehow know about the supernatural creatures Derek was involved with?

“They didn’t know about you guys—about—” His gaze swept over them—then landed on me—and he shivered. “They didn’t know about vampires.”