As the sky turns pink and the birds start singing, Bran pushes in his back door with a kick of his boot. The door wasn’t latched to begin with, just slightly ajar. An indication of how fast he left his house when I started screaming in mine.
That knowledge warms my gut, and the warmth runs over my body, and I can’t help but wonder why he would even care. I know he’s sticking to his word or whatever, but why does he want to help? There’s more to his motivation than what he’s telling me, which isn’t much at all. I just need to figure out what game he’s playing and keep playing it in the meantime.
When he shuts the door behind us, he looks me up and down, his eyes flashing in the murky morning light.
I’m covered in blood. He’s covered in blood.
I catch a glint of fangs.
He dragged me over here under the guise of protecting me, but I’m suddenly questioning just how safe I am in his house, covered in blood.
I take in a breath. ‘I need to go. I shouldn’t be here.’ I turn back for the door, but he’s suddenly in front of me, his arm barring me from leaving.
‘I won’t hurt you,’ he says quietly with a low rumble in his chest.
I roll my eyes and try to play it off like that’s the last thing I was worried about. ‘My sister was literally just attacked. I’m not leaving her alone.’
‘I’ll call the Guard and the Lockes,’ he says and shoves away from the wall. ‘Julian will put someone on the house. Unless he was the one responsible for tearing up her throat.’
I follow him across the kitchen to the wet bar. ‘That’s unlikely. My sister is one of Julian’s favorites. In fact, I heard he asked her to be his blood mate, and she turned him down.’
Bran gives me a look.
‘What?’
‘Have you ever been bitten by a Locke?’
I’m not sure why that’s relevant. ‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m not pledged yet.’
He scoffs. ‘A Pledging is just a formality. And anyone over eighteen can give consent to being bitten. Has a Locke ever asked you?’
‘Well…no.’
Pulling a tumbler out of the bar’s cabinet, Bran pops the top off a decanter and pours himself a jigger’s worth of scotch. ‘And why do you think that is?’
‘I don’t know. I never thought about it, I guess.’
‘I’ll tell you why.’ He slings the drink back and empties the glass in one gulp. He barely winces when he swallows it. ‘Your sister didn’t turn Julian down. She agreed to be his blood mate if he promised that you would remain untouched until your Pledging.’
‘That’s ridiculous. And how would you even know that?’
‘I know a lot of things.’
I snatch the glass from him and hold it out for a pour. He furrows his brow at me but finally gives in and lets a splash of amber liquid fill the bottom. He watches me as I drink it back. The liquor is smokey but smooth, and it immediately makes everything feel better. I’m exhausted and keyed up and anxious and confused. I need something. Something to take the edge off.
‘Another,’ I say.
He frowns at me and doesn’t move to refill my glass.
I cock out my hip. ‘Really?’ I reach for the decanter, and in a blur, he moves it out of my reach. ‘I’m not a fucking child.’
‘Compared to me, you’re just a baby.’
‘So what does that make you? A cradle robber?’
He snorts. ‘I haven’t fucked you yet, mouse.’
Hearing him say that out loud makes my face immediately heat up. I definitely, definitely like it when he talks like that, but really, really wish I didn’t.
Setting the glass down with a thud, I take a step closer to him. My heart is beating harder, and my belly is soaring as I repeat, ‘Yet?’
His eyes glint again in the early morning light. The air grows charged between us. I’m daring him even though I’m not entirely sure I’m prepared to be fucked by Bran Duval. I’m not afraid of having sex. And I’m not really worried about my first time, considering I’ve got plenty of toys at home. But the thought of losing my virginity to someone like him makes everything clench up tight.
It’s like taking your driving test in a Lamborghini.
Nothing afterward will ever compare, and I’m not sure I want to be chasing that high for the rest of my life.
Oh yes you do. Chase that dragon, girl.
I swallow hard, feeling a flush of heat sinking lower in my belly.
Bran’s nostrils flare.
‘Mouse,’ he says in a purr.
‘Yes?’
His eyes burn brightly now, like two candle flames lighting up the dark.
‘You should take a shower,’ he says.
I blink. ‘What?’
‘You’re covered in blood, and my control is growing weak.’
‘I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt me.’
The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. ‘Oh, mouse, I promise it wouldn’t hurt.’
I huff and turn for the door again, but Bran snatches my arm in his grip and pulls me into him so close, I can feel the tickle of his breath on my neck.
There’s nothing quite like a vampire’s mouth being close to your throat. It’s like reaching your hand out to pet a feral dog. The thrill is exhilarating. The fear almost tangible.
‘Am I not free to go?’ I challenge.
The line of his Adam’s apple sinks low in his throat right before his tongue darts out and wets the swell of his lips. His glowing eyes are firmly locked on the beating pulse of my heart in my neck.
I suddenly don’t care what his answer is because the devil on my shoulder is saying, Feel those teeth sink into your throat and his cock inside of you. Why not take the risk now before you leave town? When you can do it and get away with it?
I was never one to sow my wild oats. I’m not a huge risk-taker. Leaving Midnight is the biggest leap I’ve ever thought about taking. And even then…a little part of me has been wondering if leaving town is a coward’s way out. That in reality, I’m afraid that if I stay, I might actually like being pulled deeper into the world of the supernatural. That I might like toeing that dark line.
Bran takes a step back and holds his arm out with a flourish. ‘If you want to leave…’
Fear is telling me to go, go.
But everything else is saying: stay, stay.
And not just in Midnight, but here, now, in Bran’s house.
I want to sink into his wickedness and let him do wicked things to me.
‘I don’t have clean clothes,’ I say because that’s the only logical thing that comes to mind.
‘Guess you’ll have to go without.’
With a smirk, he turns for the stairs.
I go to the staircase and peer up. He’s already out of sight, but I can hear him opening a door somewhere in the recess of the second floor. Do I dare go up? It’s suddenly dawning on me that I’m alone again in Bran Duval’s house. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve crossed over some threshold that I can’t return from.
Screw it.
Hand on the banister, I go up.
