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His ice-blue gaze trapped hers. “Is that enough of an answer for you?”
“Are you always like this? You could’ve said you were shot.”
Blackmore bundled the towel and held it up higher on his chest. He did the same thing again. This time, he watched her as blood trickled out onto the towel.
“Have you heard of the Hunters?” he asked.
Leah’s heart jumped to her throat. Did he suspect something? Was this a test? The blood on his shirt, the bullet—he must have fought Hunters. Had Dmitri shown up? No, Dmitri would never put himself in danger. She knew only a few people who had graduated the Compound to become Hunters. Recalling the savagery with which Blackmore had killed those vampires earlier, she prayed it wasn’t anyone she knew.
“No, should I?” It was easier to turn the lie into a question.
His eyes on her lasted one second too long, as if he knew she was lying. Her heart returned to her chest again when he looked down. His muscles contracted as another bullet slid out and the wound closed.
How many times had he been shot?
“Hunters are humans that want to kill all vampires,” he explained. “They are showing up in droves in Vegas with the Gathering so close.”
“And you go out and fight them? You don’t have others to do it for you?”
Blackmore’s gaze sliced through her like a knife. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. “I don’t ask others to do my dirty work. I’m Vegas’ ruler. I protect what’s mine.”
Something about the way he said the word “mine” sent all sorts of wrong signals to her body. She had only worked for people who ordered others into danger, not the other way around.
He dropped the bloodied towel on the ground, took the first aid box from her, and picked out a scalpel. Why was there a scalpel in a first aid box?
“I need you to do the same on my back. I can’t reach it.”
Leah took the scalpel from him reluctantly. “You want me to cut you open?”
“Scared? It’s only a little blood.”
Blackmore scooted so that his side was to her, and she could reach his back.
“This isn’t part of my job description.” The scalpel looked sharp.
“Didn’t your résumé state you work well under pressure and are adaptable to the position’s changing needs?” he asked with a raised brow and curved lips.
She should be annoyed. She was. She wasn’t flattered that he’d memorized her résumé. Did he remember all of his employees’ résumés? Doubtful, considering he had thousands employed Vegas' government.
Don’t smile, don’t smile.It took effort to frown.
“Working well under pressure and adapting doesn’t quite mean this.”
Yet she couldn’t resist the lure of all that ropes of muscle. The thought of finally touching him urged her on. Studying his back, she saw two areas, one on his right shoulder and another one under the shoulder blades that had black veins branching out starkly against his pale skin.
She smoothed a hand over his shoulder. His skin was hot, nothing like the idea of the cold-blooded creature the Organization portrayed. He tensed under her touch.
“Did that hurt?”
“No. Go ahead.” Was his voice gruffer?
“How deep?”
“An inch. It doesn’t have to be a big cut.”
Leah sliced while holding the towel below the cut. The blade was sharp and split the skin without effort. Blackened blood poured out of the wound. This close, she smelled the metallic tang of it. If he’d fought Hunters, it meant these were silver bullets. His blood had been tainted with silver.
She’d seen demonstrations of silver’s effect on vampires. It was the most effective weapon against them. It weakened and slowed them down so Hunters could make a fatal blow. With a strong enough dosage, it could fully immobilize a vampire, allowing for an easy decapitation or staking or capture.
