Page 10 of Taste of Thorns
I frown. Yes, I learned that the hard way.
“Get out,” I repeat for the third time, “or I will throw you out.”
She uncrosses her legs, the skirt of the camisole she’s wearing slipping up to flash a strip of suspender. She curls up seductively onto her feet.
“But I’m hungry, Fox,” she moans, “come hunt with me. Like you used to. It’s no fun on my own.”
I shake my head. “I don’t like the way you hunt.”
“Oh,” she says, gliding her tongue over her teeth and down to the sharp point of her fangs, “I think you do. I think you’d like nothing more than to hunt that scrawny little girl and sink your fangs into her throat.”
“Don’t!” I warn her, my heart pounding in my ears, my fangs tingling.
“It’s only natural, Fox.”
“I don’t feed from humans, Veronica.”
“That’s a shame. Such a ripe little thing I’m sure – blood sweet and warm. Skin tender and warm. Imagine how she’d taste.”
I screw up my eyes.
“Imagine pinning her down and sinking your teeth through her soft flesh, letting her warm blood run into your mouth, across your tongue and down into your belly.”
My stomach moans. I ball my hands into fists.
“No? Maybe I’ll go hunt her then. See what all the fuss is about.”
My hand is around her throat in an instant and I’ve lifted her up off her feet and slammed her against the wall.
It’s a trap. One I’ve walked straight into like a fool, because her eyes roll back in pleasure and she writhes in delight.
“Just like it used to be,” she whispers.
I release her throat in disgust, but I force myself to stand my ground.
“You’re bound by a sacred promise not to hurt her,” I remind her.
She narrows her eyes.
“That wasn’t your magic in the maze. Do you kn–”
I don’t let her finish. “You stay away from her or I will kill you.”
“I’m immortal, remember, darling?”
“There are ways to kill a vampire,” I say.
“Was she helped again today? Did you help her?”
And now I see. The real reason for her visit. The reason for the outfit, for the invitation to hunt. She wants something from me. Information.
“I didn’t help her. No one did,” I say, schooling my face and choosing my words carefully, sticking to the facts.
“And yet she achieved maximum points,” Veronica says, with more than a hint of annoyance. “That scrap of a girl from Slate.”
I’m not able to hide my astonishment this time.
“Briony did? Briony?”
