Page 96 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
“You didn’t,” I counter, opening one last cabinet.
Bingo.
A lone bottle of Merlot, a brand that costs more than my life most likely, sits waiting for me. I wrap my fingers around the neck of the wine and set to work opening it.
“This is after dinner, is it not?”
“No one likes a smart ass, Mateo.” The cork comes loose with a pop. “Are you going to tell me or not?” I fill my tumbler glass to the brim, frowning when I can’t fit anymore into it.
The cup is so full I have to hold my hair back and slurp a few sips before I carry it into the living room.
“Do you like the wine?”
“It’s fantastic. I can’t remember the last time I had something this delicious—” I pause and take a sip. “Wait, you bought me this?”
Silence.
I swear to God, assuming he doesn’t like vampires, I will murder him if he leaves me hanging again.
“I did.”
The sigh that leaves my lips is louder than I anticipated, and I hear a light laugh. “Enough small talk, Mateo. Tell me what I want to hear.”
Mateo
“You should see your face right now.” I watch her in the live feed. It’s black and white but it doesn’t hide the shock draining the color from her face.
“Twenty-five?” she asks, guzzling down her wine.
“Yes, that’s when your powers will manifest.”
Demi tilts her head to the side. “My birthday is in two weeks.”
I know. Part of why I mentioned anything about her powers is to prepare her for the changes. I don’t want to wait until the day of to drop this kind of bomb on her.
“Am I a witch?”
I bite my lower lip, holding back a smile. “No, you’re not a witch.”
She huffs. “Why won’t you just tell me? You already told me how the power works for my kind and that I’ll likely be very strong. I don’t understand why you can’t tell mewhatI am.”
If only it were that easy. If I told her at this very moment that she was a Hunter, a monster made to slay the other monsters, she’d fight me to the death to leave. She’s too skittish and she doesn’t trust me.
I scowl. For some reason she trusts Grayson and Colt more than me. They’re just as culpable as I am in her kidnapping, more so seeing as they were the ones that snatched her.
“In time, Demi. I wanted you to know about your powers sooner rather than later, that way you won’t panic when it happens.”
“Thanks for nothing,” she growls.
I watch her fill up her wine, letting her stew in silence as I draw out our conversation. When she’s comfortably back in her seat, I clear my throat.
“Do you want to hear more of the story?”
I clench my fists, hating how hopeful I sound.
Demi drops her head on the back cushion and smiles. “I’d like that.”
So I open the book, reading more from the diary of the first Hunter smart enough to write down the important bits. There were Hunters before Van Helsing, but he’s the first the history books remember.
