Page 71 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

Dominic lifted one of the casks, unscrewing the top, drinking deeply, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. The smell hit me—fresh, clean blood. My body shook with need. Kit’s grip on my arm tightened.

“Well…” Dominic wiped his mouth delicately with a handkerchief. “Looks like you’ll only be able to buy one, then, doesn’t it?”

My jaw tight, I retrieved the cash from my bag. I held it out to Dominic, with barely contained fury. Ten thousand would have bought me twenty of Greaves’s bags.

Dominic’s manicured fingers plucked the notes from my grip. His smile widened as he counted each one with deliberate slowness. He nodded towards the silver casks arranged on the desk.

I reached for the nearest cask, desperate to leave this place and never return.

In a flash of green, the python struck without warning, its massive jaws snapping inches from my outstretched hand. I stumbled, crashing into Kit. He caught me easily enough, but his pulse skyrocketed, and his eyes took on that thousand-yard stare I’d seen before—focused on everything and nothing at once.

There was no time to reassure him—Dominic’s laughter bounced off the vinyl-lined walls. “Down, precious.” He clicked his tongue, and the snake slithered back to him, coiling around his chair. “Just making sure you weren’t thinking of helping yourself to more than you paid for.”

I snatched the cask, clutching it to my chest. The metal was cool against my fingers, the contents inside calling to my starved body.

“If you get bored with your little moral crusade,” Dominic drawled as I turned to leave, “I can find you work here. Some of our clients would pay handsomely for a taste of Spanish nobility.”

I stormed out, through the club and up the stairs. Outside, the rage consumed me before I could stop it, and my fist connected with the brick wall, sending shockwaves of pain up my arm.

Blood roared in my ears. The cask felt like it was burning against my palm, taunting me with its presence. The smug bastard had relished every second of my desperation.

Kit’s hand pressed against my back, warm and steady. “Don’t let that wanker get under your skin.” His voice cut through the fog of fury clouding my mind. “I’ll return solo next time. You don’t need to see him again.”

I pulled my hand back from the wall, flexing my bruised knuckles. “Let’s go.”

As we travelled back, Kit’s hands were steady on the bike’s controls—they always were—but I caught how his head tilted at each passing vehicle, how he tracked movement in his mirrors with military precision. Even after we’d left Undertone far behind, his shoulders remained combat ready beneath his leather jacket. Some habits, I knew, were drilled too deep to fade.

Kit dropped me at a tunnel entrance after I promised to ring him if needed. The journey through the network passed in a haze as I clutched the cask to my chest, trying not to calculate how many days it might buy me.

Reaching Killigrew Street’s basement felt like a victory. The hotel’s familiar musty air wrapped around me, bringing me immense comfort. I checked the kitchen, disappointment flooding through me when it was completely deserted.

Flynn must be upstairs, asleep probably.

I climbed the stairs, body heavy with exhaustion, the silver cask in my hands a reminder of tonight’s humiliation at Undertone. At least—

The scent hit me like a battering ram.

Flynn’s blood.

My entire body seized both with primal hunger and immense worry. The cask slipped from my grip, clattering against the steps. I scooped it up, then bounded up the remaining stairs, my feet barely touching the ground as I raced down the corridor, following that intoxicating trail.

There, by my bedroom door, two objects were waiting for me. A glistening glass tumbler, partially filled with crimson liquid. A note, reading: “Don’t be mad — F”.

I stared at the words, something deep within me cracking open.

Foolish, reckless human.I pressed the note to my chest.

There was no doubt in my mind about what I’d do with Flynn’s blood. This precious, blessed gift.

With the utmost care, I lifted the glass, my fangs itching to extend with the excitement.

While I unlocked my door, I pulled my phone from my pocket.

I dialled Flynn’s number.

14

Sebastián

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