Chapter 10
As the silence stretched, Luke raised an eyebrow, enhancing his glare.
Backing farther away from him would only lose Clint more ground.
He hadn’t realized their alliance was on such fragile ground, but taking a mental step back, he attempted to put himself in Luke’s shoes.
So far, Luke had been a model ally since they’d come to an understanding.
When Clint had pushed to take charge at Price’s brothel, Luke had let him handle the situation.
And Luke was right that Clint should trust him at least as much as Luke was seeming to trust him.
Not seeming. He has been patient with me. A patience that Luke was continuing to demonstrate. His glare was harsh but not filled with malice. The edge in him was like someone holding their breath and waiting for disappointment.
But Clint couldn’t enter into another bargain without addressing his concerns. “If you drink from me, you’ll be able to slip past my mental walls and affect my fears and desires.”
“Having that connection could help us in a fight,” Luke replied. “I also doubt that you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between my powers and your own mind if I ever attempted to use them against you.”
Clint pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to give Luke a key to his mind.
“I need you alive and well,” Luke said. “You’re my only hope in getting a fey lord off my back.
But we don’t have a full-blown magically bound pact.
You could walk away and leave me high and dry, so believe me when I say I am highly motivated to keep your trust. If you can’t put any trust in me for even a little bit, then we don’t need to bother having a post-mission ‘is there something between us?’ conversation. ”
Nothing Luke was saying was unreasonable, and yet Clint’s heart pounded in his throat.
He was standing at the fork of a road where one path led through barren but safe lands, and the other was a beautiful but potentially dangerous forest trail that immediately wound around a tree and disappeared into the depths of shadows.
Since when did I become one to choose the safe path?
I have fought demons, battled eldritch creatures, and survived in a world that is intent on murdering those that are different.
Bastian was right to worry about my hermit lifestyle. It isn’t me.
“You won’t take much?” Clint asked.
“You’re kind of cute when you’re nervous.” Cheekily, Luke flashed a little fang as he grinned.
“I’ve never willingly fed a vampire before,” Clint said.
“I can be gentle.”
The brattiness in Luke’s expression caused longing to coil low in Clint. He grinned down at the vampire, his shoulders relaxing. “We can see about that. After the spell. If we do it before, it’ll just bounce back at me.”
“All right. But I have your word. We do the spell, then I get a couple sips,” Luke said.
“You have my word.”
Luke nodded once. “Then let’s get this spell over with.”
“I thought the first time I’d get shirtless with you, we’d be somewhere nice,” Luke teased.
He craned his head backward to look at Clint, who was at the head of the table.
They’d cleared off the rest of Oz’s books.
Luckily, Luke was short enough that his feet only went off the end.
He was bare-chested but had on his pants, socks, and shoes.
“Or that it wouldn’t smell like melted plastic.
That’s not going to wreck your concentration, is it? ”
“I had become nose blind to it. Now I’ll need a minute,” Clint grumbled.
“Sorry.”
“Shush.”
“Did you—”
Clint sighed softly. “I can understand why you would be nervous, but if you want to get this over with, then you need to remain quiet and still, Luke.”
When he’d said yes to the spell, Luke had thought all he’d have to do was spill a few drops of blood on a map and stand back.
Instead, Clint had told him to hop up on the table, strip off his shirt, and lie down.
Luke kept his palms flat against the table—another of Clint’s instructions—and stopped his breathing so he wouldn’t move a muscle.
A light tingle brushed against Luke’s skin, slithering down his bare skin, just as Clint began to speak in a foreign language. Luke was familiar with only a few other languages, so he wasn’t sure what Clint was speaking, only that it wasn’t Spanish or Korean.
A warmth started at Luke’s fingertips and toes like little beads inside his skin.
They rolled together, combining into balls, as they moved up his arms and legs.
He bit his tongue to keep from shouting.
The roaming warmths pooled together over his heart and became an acidic heat.
He stiffened and closed his eyes. He had to find a way out of the pain, or he was going to wreck the spell. He had to think of something else.
In the darkness, he saw a bare room. Three rings, one inside the next, were laid into the concrete with runes written in sulfur-infused chalk. At the center of them was the prison box.
He was standing outside of the third ring. He scratched just below the bite mark on his throat. The skin itched, which was wild considering vampire bites weren’t known for getting infected. But everything had gone pretty wrong so far, so Joey guessed this was going bad, too.
It’d all be worth it when Valgaruz was free. Everything the incubus had promised would finally come true.
“If your friends take much longer, we’re fucked,” Oz snapped in the adjoining room. Joey could just see him in the doorway. The guy had bags under his eyes that made Joey wonder if he was okay. Not that the warlock’s health mattered all that much. Oz was the benefactor, but he wasn’t a believer.
“They’ll be here soon,” Miranda said. She had already changed into her deep red robes.
Her dress was ebony with a magnificent sheen.
“They thought it would be another night. I didn’t anticipate that Price would give the job to Luke.
Anyone else would have taken longer to move, but that desperate fool had to run out there at the first chance he could. ”
Joey’s heart pounded in his ears. They weren’t looking at him, but he was certain the two of them knew he’d lied about the vampire.
Bad enough that he and the other thieves had tangled with Clint Ravenwing, but if Miranda knew that Luke was alive, then Joey would be in deep shit.
Doesn’t matter. When Valgaruz comes, my loyalty will be rewarded.
What’s one stupid vampire and one old man against a demon lord and his greatest mages? Nothing, that’s what.
But Joey’s heart continued to thunder.
“Boy, you look sick.” Miranda stalked into the room, her heels clicking. Oz followed behind her. “You aren’t questioning our intent, are you?”
“No.” Joey rubbed the center of his chest. “Must have ate something bad earlier.”
Miranda tilted her head. “Oh?”
Oz was moving his hands in a spell. A dull blue light filled his eyes. “Fuck.”
“What?” Joey asked.
Oz had his wand in hand. Before Joey could pull his, a blast of purple light filled his vision and a burst of pain went through him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t take more than a shallow breath, and the world was darkening around him.
The last thing he heard was a knock on the distant door and Miranda’s distant voice. “Ah, finally we can get started.”
“Luke!” Clint called. “Luke, come back to me. Luke!”
Air … Luke didn’t need air. Warm hands were on his shoulders and lightly shaking him. He was loose, not frozen in a spell, but cold. He shivered. Opening his eyes was a nearly impossible feat. But he managed it.
Clint was leaning over him. His stoic attempts to smother his concern were over. Panic was obvious in his brown eyes. He eased his gentle shaking and released a long sigh. His breath was a humid, tropical breeze, or so Luke thought. Never actually felt a tropical breeze. Is this what it’s like?
“Luke?” Clint asked.
“Present,” Luke croaked. The word scraped up his throat.
“I got what I needed,” Clint told him. He pushed Luke’s hair back and held his cheeks. “Was the thief’s blood all you had in you?”
“Joey. In his head, he called himself Joey.” Luke could feel Clint’s pulse in his fingertips.
“Called?”
“Might be dead. Dunno.” Luke let his eyes close. He was so hungry, but he didn’t have the energy to move. He turned his head toward Clint’s hand. Clint’s thumb brushed against his lips, so Luke opened his mouth in a hope of catching a finger.
“Whoa there,” Clint murmured, concern heavy in his voice.
“Hungry.” Luke tried to nip him.
Clint removed his hand too quickly. “I know. But let’s do this right. Come here.”
Luke whined, about to use the last of his strength to complain that he couldn’t move, but Clint pulled him up from the table. Unable to help himself, Luke flopped against him. His head landed on Clint’s shoulder, only once he was there did he realize Clint had guided him to that spot.
Right before him was Clint’s throat. The subtle throbs of his blood vessels were a tap dance on steel to Luke. Clint wrapped his arms around Luke, his warmth soaking into the frigid cold that seemed to be all Luke was now.
“Go on,” Clint murmured.
Luke nuzzled forward until his mouth was against Clint’s neck. He was so hungry, but he wouldn’t tear into him. Wouldn’t cause a spray of blood. Wouldn’t hurt him. Clint didn’t hate him yet. Luke didn’t want that to change. Never wanted to give him a reason.
A century of feeding helped his instinct and he carefully bit Clint’s neck, avoiding slicing a major vessel with his fangs.
The first gush of blood was like throwing on a light brighter than a sun after being in an abyssal basement, but it was also like stepping out of a blizzard to a fire-warmed living room.
And the taste—oh there was more than mortal copper and the rumble of magic in Clint’s blood.
Luke moaned. He threw his arms around Clint’s shoulders and wrapped his legs around his waist. He is so fucking good.