Page 231 of Blood Curse

She closed the door and locked it with the same pull-and-turn movement. “You can keep disapproving after tea.”

The flat didn’t listen to her. The lights came on when she pressed a switch. A radiator knocked twice in the living room, then began warming. Somewhere through the wall, a man laughed at a television programme. Pipes groaned overhead.

Life pressed close here. Human, noisy and unaware of us.

I followed Bryony into the kitchen. She put the small insulated bag from Harrowmere in the refrigerator, filled the kettle and set it on its base. The machine began a high mechanical whine.

“That also sounds unsafe,” I said.

“It’s boiling water, not opening a portal.”

I opened the refrigerator.

The sealed bottle of blood sat on the top shelf beside milk, cheese and a jar with a label I couldn’t read because something green had dried across it. Bryony had brought it from Harrowmere. One night of my life fitted between groceries.

She hadn’t hidden it at the back or cleared the shelf around it. She had made room without making the kitchen mine.

I took it out.

“Glass?” she asked.

“Please.”

She reached past me for a cupboard. Her body brushed mine, and the simple contact changed the air between us.

I set the bottle on the counter.

Bryony turned in the small space between me and the cupboards. Her green eyes moved over my face. Her fingers found the open collar of my shirt and followed it down until her palm rested over the place where the dagger had entered.

The wound had closed. A thin red line remained.

“Still sore?”

“Not enough to stop me.”

Heat entered her expression. “Good.”

She kissed me.

The first touch was slow. The court was miles away, the injured were healed, and the cursed metal was dead. Bryony’s mouth opened, and I tasted tea, rain and her.

I slid one hand into her hair and the other around her waist. She pressed closer. Her coat dropped from her shoulders. Mine followed it to the kitchen floor.

The kettle clicked off behind us.

Neither of us moved towards it.

I kissed along her jaw and down her throat. Her pulse beat fast against my mouth, but hunger stayed quiet. I wanted her blood because it was hers. I wanted everything else more.

My hands moved under her jumper. Warm skin filled my palms. Bryony lifted her arms, and I pulled the wool over her head. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders.

She opened my shirt while I unclasped her bra. Her fingers dragged over my chest, careful for one second at the scar, then firmer when I stayed close.

I took one nipple into my mouth.

Bryony gripped the edge of the counter. A low sound left her as my tongue circled the tight peak. I gave the other breast the same attention, feeling her body soften and sharpen against me.

Her hand closed over my cock through my trousers.