Page 79 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

The simple request knocked me senseless. Words seemed beyond me—all I could manage was a jerky nod, my throat too tight to speak.

His fingers soon found their way to my head. He scratched gently at my scalp, threading through my thick curls until my whole body hummed with the attention. The sensation was exquisite torture, and I had to clamp my mouth shut to prevent the shamefully needy sounds building in my throat from escaping.

“Rory rang Priya from that detective’s car. He told us what happened. He seemed scared for you. Said you looked shaken. Did you know him well? The guy who sold you blood?”

“No. From what little I saw of him, he wasn’t the nicest.” Though he still had a family, one that he wouldn’t be coming home to.

“How did you meet him?”

“Through another doctor, at the hospital. One who moved out of the area, and thought Greaves could continue to help me in his stead.”

“And what will you do now, for blood?”

“That’s not for you to worry about,” I said softly.

“I can’t help it,” he whispered, close to my ear. “Worrying about you.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak, lying there as Flynn’s fingers continued their gentle exploration through my hair. The sensation was both torturous and divine—each stroke causing shivers I fought to suppress.

“If it comes to it, I’ll give you some blood. I want to help you. Like you’re helping me.”

Helping me.The words were a stark reminder of my failure. We’d made pathetically little progress on his case, hitting dead end after dead end. Felix had trawled through hours of CCTV footage, and Kit had exhausted his network of contacts, but Damien remained elusive. We had no idea where he was hiding, or which demon—or other unknown entity—held his leash.

Precious days were slipping by, days we couldn’t afford to waste while that mark slowly poisoned Flynn’s system.

“It’s my job,” I said stiffly, and his hand paused its movement. I immediately wanted to kick myself. “That came out wrong. Obviously, I care for you. Quite a bit.”

His fingers resumed their hypnotic path through my curls. “Quite a bit, huh? Wow, you do flatter me so.”

I gently kicked him with my leg. “Careful with that cheek.”

His laugh vibrated against my back as he drew me impossibly close. “Or what?”

A buzzing sound interrupted any retort. Flynn shifted behind me, reaching for his phone on the bedside table.

“Oops, that’s the other vampire I was sexting. I forgot to reply to him.”

I instinctively tensed for a moment before I processed the joke. “How many vampires do you know, exactly?”

“Just the one grumpy one.” He paused. “It’s my mother. She’s asking when I’m coming home to visit.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to suggest he do just that, but I swallowed my words. It would be extremely unsafe for Flynn to travel anywhere—and he’d possibly be endangering those around him.

“She’s threatening to come to London if I don’t,” Flynn continued, tone laden with guilt. “Says she’ll organise someone to accompany her. Her carers are amazing, but…”

“Do you miss Braymore terribly?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“God, yes.” His voice grew distant, wistful. “Mostly the ocean. There’s nothing like being out there alone. Just me and the water, no land in sight. The way sunlight catches the waves just right, turning the whole world into liquid gold, and the salt spray hits your face like a wake-up call. Like the sea’s reminding you you’re still here, still breathing. And if you’re very lucky, dolphins come and say hey. They’ll splash you, though. It’s their love language.”

His description painted such a vivid picture that for a moment I could almost taste the salt air. “I can’t imagine it. I haven’t been on a boat in living memory.”

Flynn propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with surprise. “Never?”

“Never.”

A slow smile spread across his face, just visible in the darkness. “Well, that settles it. When we can, we’ll go together. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

The earnestness in his voice made something in my chest constrict, a painful stab of a knife. How could I shatter this beautiful moment with impossible truths? That even with an umbrella, I could barely tolerate that sunlight he was so fond of? That the ocean he loved could be lethal to me—the deadly mirror of its surface causing my skin to blister and crack?

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