30
MEMORIES
Irene
Myrtha had lent me another one of her frocks, a beautiful brown velvet gown, simple but elegant. In my past life, I would have worn it for a walk in Hyde Park. Now I put it on to kill people.
I wrung my hands during the drive to London. Instead, Alex remained calm and stoic as if this were just another evening in the city.
“What if I’m not able to detect anyone’s deep aura?” I asked.
“Evil men are easy to find. I have to agree with Myrtha on this.”
My energy was dwindling, and the sensation of my strength diminishing raised a wave of panic. But killing was another matter.
“I’ll do everything.” Alex tilted his head to catch my gaze. “Trust me.”
Strands of his inky hair fell over his cheeks, and the contrast between his exceptionally pale skin and black hair was striking. A vision of his lips around Fiona’s arm came unbidden.
“Is Fiona your only provider?” I was a little obsessed.
“No. Sometimes I drink from Darius, but wizards and witches are different. They find the bite extremely painful. I guess magic fights my vampire powers, causing pain. I drank from Graves once, but a werewolf’s blood is too tangy for me.”
“What does my blood taste like?”
The tip of his tongue slowly stroked his bottom lip. “It tastes of oranges and smells of jasmine. It’s rich and spicy at the same time. Strong and velvety. Like you. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tried.”
The intensity with which he said that made me part my lips. My mind cleared, and a memory resurfaced.
“You visited me.” I stroked the arm he’d healed. “It was you that night.”
“I wanted to make sure you were safe after I’d drunk from you, but I was worried that, if I’d got too close, I might have hurt you. Even now, your scent makes me want to drink your blood.”
“That frightens me a little.” And it also excited me.
“It should. But I won’t drink from you.”
“Why?” I sounded too alarmed by the thought of not being bitten for someone who had just admitted to being frightened.
“Because you don’t trust me.”
“I do.” And I wanted to be bitten and feel that overwhelming pleasure, but that sounded selfish.
The carriage rolled to a stop, interrupting the conversation.
I climbed out slowly, trying to procrastinate on the inevitable. Alex didn’t offer me his hand, and I didn’t mind.
I jolted at every noise as we walked through Whitechapel. “Won’t Knight be angry at our presence here?”
“Not as long as we don’t interfere with his pack. Don’t believe everything Graves says. Knight isn’t a deranged werewolf, and he’s a good duke for the Moon Court.”
Drunk people sang at the top of their lungs. Others ran down the pavement as if chased by the police. The stench of urine and blood thickened the air and added tension to my shoulders.
I moved closer to Alex instinctively, almost grabbing his arm, but I stopped myself. “I’m nervous.”
Pain tightened his features for a moment. “It’ll be over soon.”
From a dark corner at a junction, we had a good view of a club. Loud, cheerful music blasted from it. Men came and went, rowdy and boisterous, making lewd jokes.
