Suzanne McLeod - The Sweet Scent of Blood

The Earl tilted his head as if listening.

Hugh’s massive hands clenched and his face filled the screen, deep fissures creasing in his red skin. He bared his polished granite teeth in a growl.

‘He refuses,’ the Earl said, his tone indifferent.

I bared my own teeth in a smile. I hadn’t expected Hugh to agree. But now I knew he was alive and we weren’t just watching a recording.

Now for the rest.

I walked over to Toni and took the knife from her unresisting hand and slashed it across the raised red scar running down my left arm. Blood welled as I dropped the blade. I took the cup in my right hand. It felt cool to my fingers, so not silver then. I turned towards the Earl. ‘Here’s the deal. I want Rio dead, and you give me your word that you will allow all my friends—and their friends—to leave and go home in safety. Do that, and I’ll agree your terms.’

Surprise flickered across his face. ‘I had thought you would object much more strenuously.’

I hoisted the cup and offered my bloody arm. ‘Do we have a deal or not?’

He inclined his head at Toni. ‘Is the witch included in your negotiations?’

‘No.’ She doesn’t need to be , I added silently.

He rubbed his hands. ‘In that case, it is agreed.’

A chime split the air.

Above me on the silent plasma screen, Rio staggered to her feet and stood there swaying. Hugh lowered his head and charged towards her, his feet thundering across the arena. She held out her arms, as though to catch him. He crashed into her, head-butting her in the chest, knocking her backwards, and she lay broken on the blue floor as Hugh moved to stand over her.

Looking up at him, she drew her lips back in a snarl. Rio wasn’t gone, not yet. Hugh turned away and I chewed my lip. I wanted him to kill her; I wanted her dead —it was the only way to break her Blood-Bond with Finn—but I knew Hugh would hurt inside if he did that, and I didn’t want that for him. But as I watched, Hugh hesitated, his head angling to one side, then he swung back and as though the camera was rolling in slow-motion, he raised his granite foot and stamped down, crushing Rio’s skull like a sledgehammer crushing an eggshell.

The screen went black.

The Earl bowed, though the action looked ungainly in his nakedness. ‘And now I believe it is your turn, my dear.’

I sniffed the cup. It was mostly blood, the Earl’s. The faint scent of liquorice caught my nose, and a sharp spike of bitterness that I recognised as the spell. I held my wrist over the cup and watched as my own blood joined with his. A ripple of power tightened within me, a small insignificant herald to the fact I was giving my life away. I put the cup to my lips, then, holding my breath, I tipped it up and drank. The liquid slid cold and sticky down my throat and settled queasily in my stomach. I drained all but the last few drops and held the cup out to him.

He took it from me and drank what was left. Power stained his skin blue and he flashed all four of his fangs in a wide grin. ‘Now for the finalé.’

He called me.

I felt the tug inside me and knew I couldn’t refuse him.

‘Feels like it’s my turn to provide the refreshments then.’ I walked into his arms and offered him my throat as he bade me.

He struck, needle-sharp teeth piercing my neck shooting venom into my blood. The pain shocked through me. Bastard. He could’ve shielded me, but he hadn’t even bothered. The venom hit my heart, making it thud fast and hard, speeding and pumping the blood through my veins and arteries.

He fed.

The Blood-Bond wouldn’t let me struggle, but it couldn’t stop the tears spilling down my face.

The Earl sucked on my blood until my heart was weak and my body cold and I sagged, almost lifeless, in his arms. This was what they wanted, what they all wanted: to feed until they killed. The power of life and death. Only with a human it was only ever a one-time thing. Not with a fae. Fae could be taken to the brink again and again. And the Blood-Bond would stop me from harming or killing either the Earl or myself. It would be centuries before he might finally let me fade into death.

I whimpered at the thought.

He gripped me tighter, thrusting himself against me, pushing himself into my belly. His hips jerked and his jaw worked hard and greedy at my throat.

I whimpered again, knowing it would excite him further.

Waiting ...

Then I released the magic.

Tiny black pearls sheathed in golden hope flowed through my blood, and into the Earl.

I fear you have misled yourself, my dear —in my mind the Earl sounded amused— if you feel your Glamour is a way to turn the tables. Your magic cannot harm me; why even before our Bond it would have been nothing more than a delicious appetiser.

His amusement faded as the tiny black pearls of compulsion—the compulsion spell I’d pulled from Constable Curly-Hair’s True Love bracelet—trapped him in my Glamour.

I held him there on the edge, making him feed until I felt my heart stutter and stop and my stomach clench with hunger, until I felt Rosa and her need rise inside me. I pushed him from me.

The Earl stood still, his face blank, pinpricks of gold in his pale blue eyes, staring at me with entranced adoration.

Would it work, or would the Blood-Bond still bind me in another’s body?

I shoved the doubts aside and coated my hand in the last drops of blood trickling from my throat. Praying to any god that would listen, I smeared the blood over the tattoo on my hip.

The red haze clouded my body.

The compulsion broke and dissipated.

I glanced down at my creamy-white skin, tossed my long black curls over my shoulder and ran my tongue over my fangs.

The Earl’s eyes opened wide—

I smiled at him.

—knowledge flooded back into his face.

I punched my fist into his chest.

And ripped out his heart.

Iclutched the Earl’s heart until I felt the life leave his body. I walked far enough from him that the blood spreading out from his corpse— my blood—wouldn’t be able to reach it, then carefully placed the heart on the blue-rubber floor. I shuddered as my Alter Vamp body healed itself. I glanced up at the screens. They were black and still, and the silence told me the magic dome still shimmered above, even though I could no longer feel it. I turned full circle and searched the empty arena.

Toni had gone.

The Earl might be dead, but the spell wasn’t, and Toni held its formula in her head. It wasn’t over yet.

Then I sensed it: an awareness, a hint of spice in the air, and fear, anticipation, and something more, fluttered in my belly.

Malik al-Khan.

He was watching, hidden in the shadows—only there were no shadows inside the dome; the stadium lights made it as bright as day.

My silent heart thudded once. ‘You can’t have the witch.’ My shout reverberated in the air.

A breeze teased around me, playing with the long black hair that curled over my shoulders.

‘I know you’re here,’ I shouted again. ‘You can have whatever you want, but not the witch.’

The sensation of silk slid soft over my naked skin.

‘Malik al-Khan.’ I held my arms out wide in offering. ‘This needs to be settled.’

‘ Rosa ... ’ His voice whispered behind me.

I crouched and swivelled to face him.

He wasn’t there.

‘Or is it Genevieve?’ Again the sound came from behind me.

I straightened and turned slowly, running my tongue over my fangs.

He stood perfectly still, his long black leather coat almost sweeping the ground. A pale length of flesh gleamed from his throat down to the leather trousers sitting low across his hips. The dark silk of his hair shone under the arc lights. He watched me, the obsidian-black of his eyes enigmatic.