Page 83 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

Kit’s scowl deepened as he accepted his, eyes sliding to the broken coffee machine. Then he marched off to Felix’s lair. Moments later, he returned, dragging a bleary-eyed Felix by his hoodie.

“I was just coming,” Felix protested weakly.

“Well, now you’re here,” Kit answered, depositing him onto an armchair before hovering just behind it.

I checked my phone. 9:02 a.m. Strange. Usually, Seb would have started the briefing by now, pacing around the room, reeling off instructions while the others took notes. Or pretended to.

“Seb’s never late,” Kit said, frowning at the doorway.

Voices drifted from the basement. The bookcase swung open to reveal Seb with DI Maxwell, the detective from the morgue.

Beside me, Rory tensed. His face hardened as he glared at the man who’d arrested him years ago, coffee cup crumpling in his grip. Mental note: never get on Rory’s bad side.

DI Maxwell’s gaze swept the room, landing on Rory. Their eyes locked—Maxwell’s jaw clenched, muscle twitching beneath his stubbled skin. Was Rory shouting abuse at Maxwell in his head again? Honestly, telepathy seemed like a raw deal.

Seb cleared his throat. “Detective Maxwell will be joining us periodically as we collaborate on several cases.” He paused, his expression tightening. “Or rather,onecase, as it turns out.”

Everyone sat up straighter. Priya’s coffee cup froze halfway to her mouth.

Seb pulled down a projection screen and connected his laptop. After several failed attempts to get it working, Felix sighed dramatically, shuffled over, and pressed one button. An image appeared—a disturbingly mangled body I didn’t recognise.

Maxwell fiddled slightly with his glasses, then held up a hand at Seb—though he hadn’t even opened his mouth to talk. He stepped forward, shoulders squared, every inch the authoritative detective addressing his team. “The victim is Dr Alistair Greaves, forty-five, pathologist at St. Etheldreda’s Hospital.”

“Wasa pathologist,” Seb cut in smoothly. “I found the body at approximately ten oh five last night in the underground car park.”

Maxwell cleared his throat. “If I could continue—”

“By all means, Detective.” Seb’s voice dripped with politeness.

“The cause of death appears to be extreme blood loss.” Maxwell gestured to the screen. “Multiple lacerations across the torso and neck—”

“Some inflicted by conventional weapons,” Seb interrupted again, clicking to zoom in on particular wounds. The images showed clean, precise cuts—surgical almost—alongside savage, jagged tears where fleshhad been ripped away. Dark bruising bloomed around the edges of the deeper gashes. “But others—”

“Show clear evidence of vampire feeding,” Maxwell finished, shooting Seb a look. “Including significant trauma to the neck area where tissue was… forcefully removed.”

My eyes fixed on the grotesque images. The torn flesh, the ragged edges where teeth had… I swallowed hard, Seb’s words echoing in my head:Would you want to risk that? Risk dying in my bed while I feast on your blood like some rabid animal?

My hand drifted unconsciously to my own neck. The pain must have been excruciating—being torn into like that, feeling fangs rip through muscle and sinew while still conscious.

A wave of nausea rolled through me. The worst part wasn’t even the violence itself, but the terror he must have felt in those final moments.

I felt Seb’s gaze on me, watching, assessing my reaction to this display of vampire violence. Did he expect this image to scare me off? I kept my expression carefully neutral, though I couldn’t stop my heart hammering against my ribs.

“We’ve moved the body to a secure location for further examination, off-record,” Maxwell continued, clicking to the next slide. “Our DIY search found a strand of hair at the scene—it’s being rushed through the lab now. We also lifted several partial fingerprints from the car.”

“The blood supply he was meant to deliver to me was missing from his car,” Seb added, his voice tight with anger. “Ten bags or so, gone.”

Priya leaned forward, her braid sliding over her shoulder. “Could the primary motive have been obtaining the blood bags?”

“More likely it’s a vampire who doesn’t believe in drinking bagged blood.” Seb’s words carried a weight that made my skin prickle. “Someone who considers it… beneath them.”

“We’re done being controlled by you, Black!”

Eliza’s words crashed over me like a deadly wave. I could almost feel her nails digging into my throat again, the weight of her pinning me against the concrete. The images of Greaves’s mutilated body seemed to blurwith my memories of that night, of watching Seb tear the vampire apart to save me.

Maxwell’s gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a prickle down my spine. His eyes seemed to widen in surprise before he quickly turned away, clearing his throat. “The violence suggests multiple attackers. The varying types of wounds—”

“Attackers who wanted to send a message,” Seb cut in, his dark eyes fixed on the projection.

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