Page 55 of Their Blood Rite

‘Not?’ he encourages.

‘Well,’ I scoff. ‘You’re beautiful.’

The two guys snort as they try to hold in their laughter, and again, I feel my face blush in utter embarrassment.

Did I seriously just call one of my kidnappers beautiful?

Dorian’s not laughing along with them. And he hasn’t looked away.

‘You’re the stuff of legend.’ I find myself walking towards him. My curiosity crushes my fear. I am literally looking at a creature from another world. Somewhere inside that body is an ethereal creature. It’s lived in an entirely different realm of existence. How could I not be enthralled by such a thing? ‘Is the Goddess Hel real?’ I ask. ‘Does she really rule over a realm of fire, death and suffering? Is that where you come from?’ My hand rests on his bare chest. ‘You have a heartbeat. Wow. It’s so slow.’ I lookup again and see him watching me with deep curiosity. ‘Can you feel me touching you? What’s it like inhabiting a body? Is it true that you’re a demigod?’

‘You’re not afraid?’ he asks, looking at my hand on his chest. ‘Most faint when they learn I’m real. Or run in terror.’

‘Where do I have left to run?’ I reply. ‘Besides. I’m a monster too. Do you have to inhabit new bodies when the one you’re using starts to rot?’

‘You’ve read Higgs and Falcon’s book of fairy tales, haven’t you?’ he says, lowering my hand. ‘Nothing on me will rot and fall off.’

‘No,’ Archie chuckles. ‘You’ll staybeautifulforever, Dorian.’

Archie laughs harder, making Dorian’s eye twitch.

‘Is this world better than the one you came from?’ I ask Dorian, ignoring Archie.

‘Infinitely,’ he replies.

‘There’s nothing worse than your home being hell.’

His eyes dance left and right as if reading my mind. He can’t do that. Not if he’s a shadow master.

‘You know something of hell yourself,’ he says quietly. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’

I step back and look away, feeling far too exposed with him so close.

‘What am I doing down here?’ I ask them all.

Dorian gestures to the long table across the room. I head over.

‘What’s this?’ I ask.

Shaw pulls the cloth away.

‘We need to know your Kindred.’ He waves his hand over the many items laid out on the surface.

‘My Kindred?’ I repeat.

‘Yes. You mud witches seek out your Kindred, don’t you?’

‘Earthwitches,’ I correct. ‘And I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I told ya,’ Archie says. ‘They only let the highborn coven members test for a Kindred.’

‘And she was due to marry the next Coven leader,’ Dorian snipes.

Again, they all look at me as if I’m about to admit I know what they’re on about. But I merely shrug. Cole never mentioned it.

‘Many witches have a Kindred,’ Shaw explains, scanning the items on the table. ‘It’s a certain kind of magic that resonates with them. To find it, they stand before specific items and feel a draw to one. A call. Not everyone who seeks a Kindred will find it. In truth, not many do.’

‘So something on this table could lead me to my Kindred? What if none of them do?’

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