Page 29 of Dark Flame
“So you see, my friends, how mortality is but a bite away. I know many of you are here out of curiosity, to see the youngest and remaining Sinclair witch for yourself, while many others are here for the chance to end your immortal life.”
A few nods of agreement. A shuffling amongst a community who lives within stillness.
“Of course, I have claimed the Sinclair witch as my property, which makes the cure mine as well. If you wish to be human, you may, for a fee. Gaze upon the witch tonight and be in contact tomorrow.”
More hissing, more murmurs—more interest.
Sinclair shifts beneath the weight of their gazes. Before I comprehend my ridiculous actions, my thumb strokes over one of her many scars to ease her, the curiosity behind their origin still lingering. It’s bothersome not to have all the facts about her.
“But”—I pause, letting the single word bounce around the room—“this is a party, which means a celebration is in order for my successful capture of the witch. I have no desire to be human; therefore, I will not be claiming the first drink, so one of you may take it. For a price, after the party, one of you may remain behind and be human before morning hits. This can be your final night as an immortal.” I pause again, letting the buzz of conversation carry before providing more enticement. “When the sun rises, you may stay up with it. Her blood will be the final blood you’ll ever have to drink. So many possibilities.”
“Straight from the vein?” one calls from the left side of the room.
Initially, I did debate the extra fee associated with drinking the cure directly from the vein, but knowing my kind, so many are careless, and it’d be a risk they wouldn’t stop when commanded and they’d try to drain her dry. Fighting a vampire mid-feed is a nuisance I don’t need nor want.
I glance towards Sinclair, spotting true terror in her expression. For the first time since meeting her, the mask has fallen. She said that no vampire has drunk from her before, and that memory brings a surge of something twisting inside me. Something protective.
No one will, if I have anything to do with it.
“No. I don’t wish my asset to be drained dry by accident. You all understand.”
Some sneer, some laugh. Sinclair audibly sighs in relief, and my thumb does another sweep of her scars, this time slipping beneath the cuffs. Her pulse jumps.
I bring her wrist back to my mouth, pressing my lips to the vein that exudes temptation. She shivers before trying to yank away, obviously not enjoying her body’s response to my touch. It’s not her fault, though, and it means nothing of what she’s probably guessing it does. Exactly how she described vampires and sex going together, the influence of a feed, even when accompanied by fear like Miss Sinclair’s feeling, dulls that fear into something else. Something that makes them compliant for us.
Lust.
And Harlow Sinclair is dripping with it.
Twelve
HARLOW
“So…howmany of you want to be mortal come sunrise?”
Dormer, my captor and a literalking, clenches my wrist again, his finger tracing my scars. The touch is almost tender, which is completely ridiculous, and I wonder if he realizes he’s doing it.
A vampire steps forward to call out a number. He’s one of many, which still, my brain hasn’t processed. My parents hid me from vampires my entire life, and here I am, a buffet for his guests. Even more shocking is the fact I’m not getting attacked by any one of those numbers, thanks to my captor, who’s doubling as my bodyguard. And my pimp, based on the actions unfolding around me.
“A thousand!”
Dollars?
Dormer makes a displeased noise. “That’s all mortality is worth to you? Come now. I know you’ve spent the last three hundred years gambling your way to wealth.”
Three hundred. Okay, so my captor’s older than that. Old enough to have been around when kings and queens were a thing. Although, in some countries, they still are, so that’s not much to go off of.
He casts me a quick smirk, like he knew exactly where my thoughts went.
“Ten thousand!” another one shouts.
Again…dollars?
A few sips of my blood is worthten thousand dollars?
And why’d I never think to do this years ago?
My captor hums, the vibration going up my arm, making me shiver. I shouldn’t enjoy the feeling of his touch as much as I do, but when his fangs dragged over my pulse, my thighs pressed together to hide the truth of what I’ll never admit to either of us.
