Page 23

How many hundreds of years has he lived in the dark?

“Problem?” he asks, opening his eyes and looking at me the way a dog looks at someone who’s trying to steal his food when he’s sleeping.

“No. Just think we should get moving.”

Thornfield holds out his arm and gestures toward the archway that leads out onto the main street. “After you.”

He leads me past streams of traffic, and stores. Bright Christmas themed lights, joyful storefronts, stressed parents carrying bags of shopping. Large noisy buses and queues of miserable, cold, people waiting to board them. Then into the large, picturesque market square.

With a church as its backdrop, and stalls still lit up despite the late hour, it’s the sort of place I’d want to stay and explore if we were here for any other purpose.

Perhaps one day soon, we can take Nova on vacation. Go somewhere with the purpose of – dare I say it – relaxing instead of fighting for our lives.

Cocktails, Nova in a bikini, clear blue water… my lips twitch and my cock copies them. It has been too long since I ravished her body. In the past, the adrenaline of the fight seemed to fuel our need for each other. All of us. But something about this trip feels fractured. Perhaps because Luther isn’t here. Perhaps because of what’s happening to Mack – and the thought he might…

I stop myself, shake my head, and follow Thornfield across the square.

Like a moving shadow, he dips into a small dark alleyway and comes to a halt opposite a tiny abandoned cemetery. Weird location for a bunch of gravestones. But, then, everything about this old English city is weird. Unplanned. Built up, and around, and on top of itself to try and make it fit modern day life when, really, it belongs in the past.

Thornfield stops in front of a store with a red-framed window and a worn-looking door. The sign reads The Haunted bookstore.

I read it twice before laughing and swiping my fingers through my hair. “Are you serious?”

Thornfield scowls at me as if I’ve just insulted his favorite bar. “Yes,” he says. “I am serious.”

I open my mouth to respond, but something about the look in his eyes, and the tensing of his jaw, tells me not to. Instead, I shrug and allow him to be the first through the door.

As it opens, it rings gently. We wipe our feet on the mat.

It’s the smallest store I have ever been in, and the scent of old books is almost overwhelming. “Mack would love this,” I mutter, turning to look at the crowded shelves.

“Well, if we’re successful you can bring him here for a day out,” Thornfield snarks. After a slight pause, he adjusts his suit jacket and straightens his shoulders.

Something has shifted in his demeanour. Probably imperceptible to anyone else, but for me – something tingles just on the edge of what would normally be there.

Emotion.

Feeling.

Something is almost palpable.

And when a figure emerges at the top of the tiny staircase next to the counter, I realize why…

A blond woman with hips to rival Nova’s appears and makes her way down toward us. Her curves weren’t made for the small staircase, so she turns sideways slightly, but smiles when she reaches eye level with Thornfield.

Smiles. Then frowns a little. “It’s you,” she says.

Her crystal blue eyes lock with his.

And the tension that swells in the air is enough to make me feel like I need to turn away or wait outside.

Tucking a blond ringlet behind her ear, she reaches out to shake Thornfield’s hand. He looks at her pale, delicate fingers as if he might combust if he touches them.

I wonder if she sees what I do – if she feels what I do – or if she’s completely oblivious.

When he curls his fingers around hers, she simply nods and says, “We didn’t have the chance to introduce ourselves properly last night. My name is Luna.”

Thornfield moistens his lips. I notice his tongue linger on one of his fangs, but she hasn’t seen it – she’s still staring into his eyes.