Page 20 of Blood Sacrifice

Salvator died a long time ago. I had mourned his loss, and lit a candle for him every year at Samhain. Every word I could think of evaporated from my mouth and my knees threatened to betray me as they wobbled. I sank onto the side of the bed, my mind whirling in confusion.

“You hit your head in the accident,” he said. “The doctor said you had a concussion.”

I eyed him warily, beginning to doubt my memory since this obviously wasn’t Salvator. “These are not my clothes,” I replied, tugging the T-shirt.

“The top’s mine, the panties are definitely yours since they wouldn’t fit me.” His eyebrow rose slightly, and my cheeks flushed.

“This is not a hospital,” I pointed out. “The sheets are too good a quality.”

“I prefer not to rough it when I sleep.” He didn’t try to explain why I was in his bed and sleeping in his shirt.

“I need to leave.” I stood on shaky legs, stumbling when I tried to take a step forward.

He was there in an instant, his hands grasping my arms to steady me. I wanted to protest, but his touch soothed me and made me feel safe. My energy drained out of me as I stood staring at his chest.

“You’re safe here,” he said, as if that answered everything. “Breakfast is ready.”

He took my arm and led me out of the room. My stride wasn’t as long as his and I struggled to keep up with him as he moved through what appeared to be a house. Sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling window in the kitchen. The unitswere a pale silver colour, an island in the centre of it had chairs around it to give it the illusion of a table.

I sat down, chewing my lip as he moved seamlessly around the kitchen. I hadn’t seen my clothes or phone in the bedroom, and I needed to get in touch with Maia as she would know about the accident by now.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but where are my belongings? I need my phone to let my family know I’m okay.” I threaded my fingers through each other on the countertop in front of me.

He turned to face me and butterflies erupted in my chest. Everything about him reminded me of Salvator, and I wondered if this could be his soul reincarnated. He leaned his ass against one of the kitchen units and stared at me.

“Your case and bag are in the spare bedroom as I didn’t have time to search them for surveillance equipment, and that room has inbuilt blockers in it,” he replied. “You are not in a hospital because the rest of the tour was taken there, and a woman matching your description is currently in the morgue. I couldn’t have you taken to the hospital since technically you are dead, so I had a private doctor brought here to examine you.”

I had no idea what I was supposed to say to that. “Is there a reason that people need to think I’m dead?”

“If you’re dead, then they stop looking for you.” He shrugged and continued to watch me calmly as my emotions spiralled out of control.

“Why do you get to make that decision? And who changed my clothes?” I demanded, trying to pull the T-shirt further down over my legs.

“I made that decision because this is my territory and I do not need Balor sending his goons into it and starting a war.” He glared at me until I curled my toes and glanced away. “Every creature or magic user is supposed to let my people know thatthey are here. It’s how we keep the peace. Two people on your tour ended up dead because they were looking for you. There was a major crash and we had to eliminate the threat sent to retrieve you. None of that would have happened if you had let us know you were here.” He folded his arms across his chest, and I desperately tried not to notice the way his muscles moved and contracted.

“I couldn’t inform anyone as I didn’t know there was a special visa you needed when travelling to Peru,” I snapped, my temper rising. “Since when was this land carved up into territories?”

We both stared at each other, the deadlock only broken when my stomach rumbled.

I watched as he silently placed pancakes onto a plate and handed it to me. He left bacon and maple syrup in the centre of the island. Then he placed a teapot and mugs on a placemat to the side.

“What if you are the one trying to kill or capture me?” I queried, poking the pancakes with my fork.

“Then I’ve succeeded with the capturing, and it would be pointless healing you to poison you.” He raised his eyebrows, as if challenging me to argue with him.

I shoved a piece of fluffy pancake into my mouth, chewing it to prevent me from saying anything. He sat in the chair and proceeded to eat the bacon.

“Are you going to introduce yourself?” I asked before eating another piece of pancake. “I assume you know who I am.”

He chewed slowly, his watchful gaze never moving from me. “I know who you are.”

I felt like screaming because he looked like someone whose ghost had lived in my life for forever, but ghosts didn’t become corporeal just because we wanted to see them again.

“What am I supposed to call you?” I tried a different tactic.

“I answer to most things. Most of my organisation calls me Sir.” He grinned and bit into another slice of bacon.

“Asshole,” I muttered, helping myself to syrup.

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