Suzanne McLeod - The Cold Kiss of Death

Rosa! Malik’s beloved , as Hannah had called her. Rosa was a touchy subject as Malik had been the one to give her the Gift, and at one point he’d been determined to rescind that same Gift rather than let another borrow her body—not one of my most cherished memories—until he’d discovered it was me doing the borrowing. Even so, I wasn’t entirely sure where he stood on the Rosa/me issue now.

‘Even if Rosa were in truth your master,’ he carried on, ‘instead of the puppet you have made of her body, she would not be strong enough to keep you from those that would seek to persuade you to their blood. It is a situation that must be dealt with before it escalates further.’

‘And what exactly do you mean by that?’ I said warily.

‘It is not a matter for discussion now, Genevieve.’ He brushed his hands together, then indicated the dead body. ‘This is a more immediate predicament. Someone has gone to great efforts to ensure you appear guilty. Have you any ideas who might have done so?’

‘Haven’t a clue,’ I said, but I intend to find out . ‘The only other time I’ve been framed for a murder I didn’t commit, it was your doing.’

Irritation flickered across his face. ‘Unfortunately for you, my plan then did not succeed. If it had, you would not have become involved in all that followed, and I would not have the need to watch over you now.’

‘Look, don’t bother with the watching thing, or whatever it is you’re doing. The last thing I need is a shadowy vampire stalker.’

Something dangerous surfaced in the dark pools of his eyes and I swallowed past the sudden fear constricting my throat. He reached out and grasped my left wrist again. My pulse beat fast and eager under his touch. ‘I have laid my claim on you,’ he said as he lifted my wrist until it was level with my face; the bruises there bloomed like red roses and blood trickled down from between his pale fingers. ‘I will not let another usurp that claim.’

‘I am not a thing to be claimed, Malik,’ I snapped, trembling with both rage and the need that rushed through my body. ‘And if you want my blood, then you’re going to have to start negotiating to get it.’

He stilled, staring at me, emotions I couldn’t read flickering across his face. Then he raised his other hand and cupped my cheek, brushing his thumb over my lips. They tingled with his touch and my anger washed away with the desire that leapt through my body—mine or his, or both, I couldn’t tell. He leaned closer, the scent of him invading my senses, holding me captive. Sliding his hand around the nape of my neck and threading his fingers into my hair he tugged and without conscious thought I tilted my chin, offering my throat. He kissed his lips to the soft, vulnerable skin under my jaw, a gentle, almost reverent kiss.

‘You think you will dictate terms to me? When and where and how much?’ The words whispered against my pulse. ‘But what if I do not wish to negotiate, Genevieve?’ Sharp fangs drew a line of heat down my flesh. ‘How will you stop me?’

My heart stuttered. The need to give him everything I was ached deep inside me. I placed my palm against his chest, spreading my fingers over the lean, hard muscle ... and I pushed him back, forced my mouth to say the words my body didn’t want to. ‘Negotiation is all I’m willing to offer; without that, then I will kill you.’

‘Then we will negotiate.’ He smiled, but the shape of his mouth was sad. He released my wrist and drew away, putting space between us. I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to go to him, resisting the call in my blood. Damn vamp! Negotiate meant talking, not messing with my mind, but of course, he knew that. I breathed, concentrating on the faint scent of honeysuckle in the air, the vague sourness of gas from the ovens, the earthy smell of fermenting yeast. Opening my eyes, I looked down at my wrist. There was no blood and the bruises were once again just warmer imprints on my honey-coloured skin. It was just him using my own susceptibility against me. I clenched my fists, angry with myself that I’d let him do that so easily, and looked back at him.

He was staring up at the small high window. ‘Dawn approaches.’

As soon as he spoke, it was all that I could feel, all that I could hear, almost like a shrill alarm getting louder and more insistent, driving all other thoughts from my consciousness. I shook physically with the feelings, then almost kicked him in annoyance. Mesma . Crap, he was still messing with my mind. Dawn wasn’t going to harm me, but it would him. Vamps don’t do sunlight, or even the gloomy October daylight that would be filtering through the small window in the next few minutes. But the particular vampire trapped in the kitchen with me didn’t look too worried, but then he was old enough that he wouldn’t have followed me into the trap if he’d thought he’d be in real danger, so he was still playing games. But why?

‘Does being out at dawn mean you’re going to burst into flames and collapse in a pile of ashes?’ I asked, instilling vague interest into my voice.

‘Your own father was a vampire.’ He frowned. ‘Yet you appear woefully ignorant of our species.’

I shrugged. ‘I know staking doesn’t always kill you, not without taking the head and the heart, but hey, seeing a vamp in daylight without some protection is a new one for me and I don’t want to take anything for granted. I mean, up until I met you I thought that revenants were just a scary old myth.’ He didn’t even flinch at the dig—revenants are the scary skeletons in the vampires’ closet, and he was the one who proved the myth was real. ‘And I’m sure that wasn’t the only part of my education my father neglected.’

‘No,’ he said, tucking his hands in his coat pockets. ‘I will not burst into flames, nor would any vampire who has reached their autonomy. Those who still bow to their master’s hand would be dependant on their master’s goodwill to keep them alive. But the touch of the sun can bring much pain and a lingering disability; many would wish to choose a quick, final death to end their suffering.’

‘So what’s going to happen to you?’

‘As I have told you before, Genevieve, I carry the true Gift.’ His lips thinned to a grim line. ‘So long as my remains are not scattered, I am able to heal any injury, even a day in direct sunlight ... eventually.’

‘What do you mean “eventually”?’ I frowned.

‘Some things take time.’

‘How much time? Days, weeks, months?’

‘The window faces north and the day is cloudy ... a few weeks, maybe.’

Damn, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. No way did I want him out of action for all that time. A day in jail I could cope with, but weeks ... I glanced at Tomas’ body. I had a murderer to look for.

‘If you get out now, can you get to somewhere safe in time?’

‘Yes.’ His expression turned thoughtful. ‘But why would you be concerned for me?’

‘Stop playing with me, Malik. When the police do finally turn up, I’m probably going to be arrested on suspicion of his death.’ I waved a hand at the body. ‘But you’ve been following me and I bet you know exactly where I’ve been every minute of last night.’ I smiled, knowing it didn’t reach my eyes. ‘You’re my Get Out Of Jail Free card.’

‘You want me as your alibi?’ he said, as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him.

‘I think you owe me one after the last time, don’t you.’ I made it a statement. ‘And of course, there’s the fact that you want something from me’—and I had a suspicion it wasn’t just my blood—‘otherwise why follow me in here to offer your help.’ I made that a statement too. ‘So me sitting in prison while you recover isn’t in either of our best interests, is it?’