Suzanne McLeod - The Sweet Scent of Blood

I hoped the girl understood what she’d got into, but I was willing to bet she hadn’t. Vampires could be as tricky as the fae to bargain with when it suited them.

Red Poet stalked through the mock-graveyard, peering over every headstone, hamming it up big-time. The music crescendoed as his intended victim huddled in full view, tremors racking her plump body.

‘Audience participation is such a wonderful thing, don’t you think?’ Rio’s eyes never left the stage. ‘What could be more exciting, more thrilling, than to watch, and to feel, real fear?’ Excitement laced her voice. ‘To actually feel the heart beating faster and faster, the blood rushing through your body in a pounding torrent...’ She took a deep breath. ‘What better way is there, when you feel so alive in those moments just before you die?’ She let out a gusty sigh. ‘True terror is such a rare and precious commodity in these over-enlightened days.’ She sent me a sly smile. ‘And like any commodity’—she spread her arms wide, encompassing the whole room—‘it can be bought and sold.’

I threw Rio a disgusted look. ‘You’re all going along for the ride, aren’t you?’

She held out her hand again. ‘Would you like to join us?’

‘Thanks, I’ll pass.’ I backed off; this wasn’t getting me anywhere and I had better places to be. I went to push against the door, but instead of wood, found my hand meeting cool flesh. Rio had moved too fast for me to see and now she stood between me and the exit, arms braced to either side of the door, blocking my way.

‘Stay with me, little sidhe,’ she murmured.

I stared at my hand flat against her chest, the deep V of her sheer blouse brushing against my wrist, my own honey-coloured hand looking pale against her darker skin. Her heart thumped under my palm sending little shockwaves along my arm. Mesma. I wanted to take my hand away, but I couldn’t. The little shocks felt too irresistible.

My throat tightened with fear: she was way more powerful than I’d thought.

Rio pushed closer. Instinct screamed at me to step back. Instead I let my body do what she wanted. I bent my elbow, bringing us nearer, and looked up into her eyes. The whites were as blue as her hair. Her scent, musk, mint and liquorice, clouded my mind and I leaned into her, wrapping my other hand around the back of her neck.

‘Well, this is a surprise, little sidhe.’ She lowered her head, her mouth parted in anticipation. ‘Who’d have thought?’

Our lips met, soft at first, then I pressed mine hard against hers, taking the kiss even deeper. I could feel her heart fluttering fast and frantic under the palm of my hand. I slid my tongue across her cool lips. Hers darted out, eager. The tang of copper mixed with the bitter mint caught in my throat. I dragged my mouth from hers, my hand still against her flesh.

‘Is this what you want, Rio?’ I breathed the words into her face.

She swayed towards me, arms still outstretched, her hands on the door frame holding her upright.

I trailed my hand lower, touching the trembling skin of her stomach. ‘Is this why you rushed out to greet me?’

A small, inarticulate sound issued from her parted lips.

I slid my fingers into the top of her leather hotpants. ‘Why you’ve been so eager for me to join you?’

She shuddered, her breath coming in excited little huffs.

I stepped sharply to the side, stuck my leg out and jerked hard on her shorts. Off-balance, she stumbled forward, her eyes flashing open, her arms windmilling. I thumped my hand between her shoulders and pushed her down. She landed on her front, her chin cracking hard against the wooden floor. Her breath gasped out as I dropped down to sit astride her and I slapped my hands on her arms and leaned my weight on her, pinning her to the floor.

‘Or was there something you wanted to tell me?’ I leaned down and whispered into her ear.

Then the screaming started.

Onstage, Red Poet had caught the girl and was holding her from behind, trapping her body tightly against his. The audience were transfixed, revelling in her terror. Tears coursed down her face as her struggles grew weaker. He gently wiped the tears away, then lifted her chin, stretching her neck so the large pulse jumped under the skin.

Beneath me, Rio laughed.

He reared back his head.

Shit! Rio was controlling him—

‘Make him stop,’ I shouted in her ear.

Red Poet froze, fangs poised to strike.

Rio turned so our faces were almost touching. ‘Shh, little sidhe,’ she purred, ‘you wouldn’t want him to hurt her now, would you? Just a slight miscalculation on his part, and there would be a tragic accident. And of course, she signed the disclaimer of her own free will, all our special guests do ... the Monitor goblin will vouch for that.’

Was she bluffing?

As if she’d read my mind, she whispered, ‘Unlike some, our plump little starlet doesn’t have the protection of the Earl, or a religious mother, or a celebrity boyfriend—no one would even remember her, if her performance tonight should be her swan song.’

Not bluffing then.

The girl could disappear tonight, and unless the contract called for the Monitor to register her death, no one would ever know. Humans really didn’t understand just how literal goblins were sometimes.

‘I suppose you want me to move, then?’ I muttered.

She gave another skin-crawling chuckle. ‘Please don’t. This is a delectable situation.’

Okaaay, so she liked being pinned to the floor ... ‘Fine,’ I snapped.

‘Oh, wonderful: now you can enjoy the show, and I can murmur sweet nothings in your tempting ear. Come closer, little sidhe,’

I sighed and bent nearer until my face was next to hers. Vampires do so love their games.

Back onstage, Red Poet had let the girl go and now she was crawling desperately away from him, half strangling herself with her nightgown as she did so. He tiptoed after her, exaggerating every move: a true pantomime villain.

Rio shifted beneath me. ‘You’ve been asking about poor Melissa. A great shame, her death, she was such a delightful pet.’

‘I’m not here for the eulogy, so just get on with it, Rio.’

‘Very well. Melissa came to me the night before she died and told me she had some information she wanted to sell to me.’

‘She was blackmailing you.’

She laughed softly, the sound vibrating through me. ‘Melissa was much like me; she had ambitions. She understood that the right word or deed could be used as leverage, or be a very effective weapon.’

Touché. ‘So Melissa was blackmailing you.’

‘She was smart, and she had her eye on a bright and shiny future.’ Rio arched one black brow. ‘It’s always possible she was blackmailing someone, don’t you think? I liked her. She was a girl after my own heart.’ She winked. ‘That’s why I agreed to be her sponsor.’

I frowned. Melissa already had a sponsor: Declan at the Bloody Shamrock.

‘I see no one’s shared that information with you, have they?’ Rio tutted. ‘But don’t you find it interesting that she had not one, not two, but three sponsors? Me, of course, the Earl, and Declan. And there was to be another, but he had still to declare.’

My back was starting to ache. ‘Let me guess: that’d be Malik al-Khan.’

‘You have been busy.’ She sniffed the air. ‘But I was meaning our other visitor, the Frenchman.’

I needed to clear something up. ‘So did you agree to be her sponsor before or after she decided to sell you information?’

‘Before, of course.’ She licked her lips. ‘I declared my intentions some time ago.’

For a moment I’d almost forgotten what was happening a few feet in front of me, but a low moan dragged my attention back to the stage where Red Poet was enjoying himself draping the terrified girl on top of the stone coffin. He flashed a fang-filled grin and tipped her head back, exposing her throat, and started carefully arranging her hair so it wouldn’t obstruct the audience’s view.