Page 54

The door bursts open behind me, and I whirl around, but this time it’s Tristan. My knees give way with relief.

“Where is he?”

I open my mouth to tell him, but the sight of others spilling through the door behind him freezes the words in my throat. Helen, Adrian, and Pierce, I think we can trust, but Paul and Selene have already shown that they prefer to play the middle, and as for the rest… If I say that Misha rescued me, it might undermine the work Tristan’s doing. For all I know, this is another setup. It’s not like vampires can die from a broken neck—full decapitation, removal of the heart, or burning to ash are the only ways to make sure they’re dead. Maybe Misha and his friend cooked this up to gain some sympathy for Misha and the whole anti-feeder cause.

“He left,” I croak. “He heard you coming.”

There’s a murmur of what sounds like disappointment from the assembled vampires—fucking jackals—and then Tristan is beside me, his arm coming around my shoulders. His other hand rises to adjust my jacket, and I realise it’s torn, the sleeve practically hanging off my arm.

“I believe that’s enough for one night. Pierce, please call Anna and have her meet us out the front.” Pierce’s phone is in his hand before the sentence is complete. “Selene, Paul, thank you for your hospitality. Unfortunately, we must cut the evening short.”

Selene’s face is sickly pale as she shakes her head frantically. “Our deepest regrets, Tristan. We had no… That any civilised vampire would attack a feeder… It’s unacceptable. We regret that such a heinous thing happened in our home.”

“We offer recompense to you and your feeder,” Paul adds. Both of them carefully avoid looking at me. “Would he like to lie down, or a hot drink? I can send for a doctor.”

“I’m taking him home,” Tristan says firmly. “Perhaps in future, you’ll give more care to your guest list.” With his arm still securely around me, he steers me toward the corner of the house and then along the side until we emerge onto the forecourt. Pierce overtakes us there, heading for the front gate, but Helen and Adrian stop beside us.

“Are you okay, Adam?” my cousin asks, worry creasing his brow. “I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have gone outside alone. I⁠—”

“Not your fault,” I interrupt. “I’m fine, just… shaken.” Shocked. Terrified. Not sure if the adrenaline will ever leave my system. “I’ll call you tomorrow to confirm our plans.”

He nods, swallowing. “You can call me anytime.”

“Tristan,” Pierce calls, and we glance over to see that Anna’s pulled the car into the driveway.

“You have my support, Tristan,” Helen says, her voice low. “Attacking a feeder is beyond the pale.”

“He wanted to taste Barale blood,” I mutter inconsequentially. My mouth just wants something to do.

Tristan’s body goes stiff against mine, and Helen sucks in a breath. “I’ll make some calls,” she promises. “No vampire who’s ever contracted with a Barale will tolerate this.”

“Granddad’s going to shit a brick,” Adrian adds, and I blink, startled.

Then Tristan is sweeping me away across the forecourt, and I’m being buckled into the back seat of the car. Anna’s face is equal parts worried and furious, but she says nothing, just backs out of the driveway and speeds off.

My hand slides across the seat, searching for Tristan’s arm. I need the contact, but I’m still surprised when he grips my hand firmly in his.

Tristan calls for Clive as soon as we enter the house from the garage, and we haven’t even reached the kitchen when he appears in the doorway. His eyes go wide as they take us in—Tristan with his bloodstained clothes and me with my torn suit.

“Does he need a hospital?” Clive demands of Tristan.

“I don’t know but would appreciate if you could ascertain that.”

I pull away from him and go slump into one of the chairs at the big table. “I don’t need a hospital.” I’m pretty sure, though now that the adrenaline is starting to fade, I have some sore spots where the vampire grabbed me. Bruises, probably. My shoulder aches too, but not badly. I might have wrenched it a little in the scuffle. “I’m fine.”

Lauren appears in the opening to the living room as the words leave my mouth, and she gasps. Not exactly encouraging. “What happened?”

“I’d like to know the exact details also,” Anna says, coming to sit opposite me. “Clive will check you over. He’s got paramedic training.” She doesn’t even pretend it’s not an order, and with Tristan standing a few feet away like a grim guardian, I don’t try to argue. Clive carries a metal toolbox thing over to the table and reaches for my wrist, and to show that I’m cooperating, I push my sleeve up so he has access to check my pulse.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” Lauren says. “Tea for everyone?”

“Coffee, please.” I smile at her. She smiles back, then turns a questioning glance to Clive.

“He’ll have chamomile tea,” Clive tells her.

“Chamomile!” I’m not ninety, for fuck’s sake.

“No coffee until your heart rate is back to normal,” the fun police declares, then pulls a mini torch out of his toolbox. “Follow the light with your eyes.”