“They switch partners every six months to a year.” He lowered his gaze. “Older vampires are more prone to be connoisseurs. They alternate donors every thirty days.”
“I don’t understand.” I recoiled from the frosty glass and its contents. “Why would I still give preference to you after a five-year hiatus?” I massaged my forehead. “Atramentous should have broken the addiction.”
“You’ve been losing weight since your release.” He kept studying the floor, his shoes. “I’m not sure you could have survived five years without proper nutrition.”
The laugh that burst from my chest was cruel and ugly, sharp and hateful. “They starved me and drugged me and beat me. There was nothing proper about Atramentous.”
Dragging his gaze up to me, he gave himself a moment to compose his features. Another mask clicked in place, shielding me from the worst of his reaction. The cold rage boiling in his eyes, though. That he failed to warm in time. The endless black spilling from corner to corner identified this mask as belonging to the potentate. This mask I sometimes thought of as vengeance.
“I can’t imagine what you endured.” Frost limned his crisp words. “I can promise those responsible will wish their fate was as merciful as the one they granted you.”
“Linus.” I extended my arm toward him, and he came to me, sliding his chilly hand in mine. “Thank you.”
“It’s not enough.” He gestured toward the drink, but his meaning encompassed so much more. “None of it will ever be enough.”
“I survived.” I squeezed his fingers, amazed to find them pliant and not molded from ice. “I made it out.”
Eternity stared back at me, bleak and endless. Unforgiving. There was no reasoning with this version of him.
Though I knew the answer, I had to ask him. “Who had access to your blood and to me?”
Whatever stores were kept in the basement were lost when Maud died. Assuming he was right, and he usually was, a fresh source would have been required to meet my dietary needs. The number of people who could claim such privilege might number the fingers on one hand.
“Mother,” he admitted, the bite in his tone aimed at her. “Strophalos.” He noted my shock, and the frost melted from his words. “They require faculty to donate blood for the students’ use. The samples aren’t labeled, and they’re kept in unmarked refrigerators.” His sigh warmed him even further. “That makes it impossible to track a teacher’s individual contribution. There’s no guarantee, since the program is anonymous, that the phlebotomist checked in what I gave. They could have kept it, and no one would be the wiser.”
As much as I wanted to point the finger at the Grande Dame, I had to admit this made it more likely that a staff member at the college where he taught was to blame. “Those are our only two suspects?”
Allowing my bias to blind me was a rookie mistake that let me forget the Society was founded on two principles: lineage and wealth. Blood spent the same as currency in our circles when it came to potent magic like his.
“The Elite,” he gritted out. “I’m required to give a blood sample each time I visit a secured facility. The amount is small, only large enough to test against previous samples, but it accumulates over time.”
Just how often was he visiting Volkov? And to what end? That’s what I wanted to ask, but I worried he might protect me from the truth. Goddess knows Boaz and Amelie had adopted that philosophy. Any curiosity I harbored on that front could wait until I was ready to risk the fallout, and I wasn’t there yet. I couldn’t stomach losing another person to lies this soon.
“We don’t know how much blood you require. The amount will be trial and error after you settle on a donor.” A shrug rolled through his shoulders. “A vial stolen here and there might be enough.”
Hating to expose any vulnerability, I admitted, “I don’t think I can do this without you.”
And by you, I meant his blood.
The previous concoctions made me gag after one sip. I couldn’t imagine choking down enough to figure out how much juice was required to keep a goddess-touched necromancer running in optimal condition.
Black wisps swirled through his eyes, and he wet his lips. “I’m happy to provide for you.”
A shiver traipsed down the length of my spine that might as well have been his cool fingertip.
“Thank you.” I wrapped my hand around the glass and pulled it back to me. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
Linus watched my lips part around the straw before sliding his focus to my throat as it worked over the frosty mix. “Yes,” he rasped. “I don’t mind.”
Unable to drink while watching him, I dropped my gaze to the countertop and pretended interest in the lightning strike of veins forking through the marble. A flush heated my cheeks and left my lips buzzing, or maybe that was the effect his blood had on me.
Finished with my appetizer, I exchanged the glass for a plate of the crepes he promised me.
The can of whipped cream he set on the table with a grimace. He preferred to make his own fresh.
How a man who barely ate or drank became an epicurean boggled the mind.
“Join me?” I patted the seat Amelie used to occupy, the one beside me. “Are you sure you don’t want to share?”
“I grazed while I was taste-testing,” he assured me. “I couldn’t hold another bite.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I tucked into my meal while he pulled out his stool. “What’s on the agenda for tonight?”
“A field trip.” He wrapped his hand around mine and aimed my fork at his mouth, stealing my next bite. Expression thoughtful, he chewed then swallowed. “Needs more nutmeg.”
Shocked down to my toes, I gaped at him until he cut another bite and forked it into my mouth.
Smart move on his part. Stuffing my face might have been the only move guaranteed to shut me up.
Four
Pining for a taste of freedom, I ran my fingers across the closed garage door on our way past. “I miss riding Jolene.” I fluttered my lashes at Linus. “I have a pristine driving record, and Boaz left his riding leathers in my garage.”
His pace slowed as he wavered, but his resolve firmed up again. “I’m not comfortable with motorcycles.”
“You’ll never know until you try.” I walked on with a sigh. “You might love the wind in your hair.”
With a deft twist, he drew the auburn length into a tail at his nape. “What about the bugs in my teeth?”
“Hey, if you’re smiling big enough for your mouth to double as a grille, you’re doing something right.”
“Maybe one day.”
“Maud fed me the same line with the exact inflection a million times. Your one day means never.”
He ducked his head to hide his grin at being caught. “I was being polite.”
“Who’s our ride?” I scanned his hands for his cell. “You don’t have the ride-share app up yet?”
“We don’t need it.” Hood strolled past us. “I’m playing chauffeur tonight.”
I did a double-take. “I thought your mate left you passed out in bed.”
“I don’t kiss and tell.” He clicked his tongue. “I also don’t drink or eat food that makes my nose burn.”
Lethe was not going to be happy when she realized Hood had pulled the wool over her eyes.
“Stay put.” He opened the gates then checked both ways. “I’ll be right back.”
Minutes later, a black van pulled up to the curb and parked.
Linus glided the side panel open, revealing its custom interior. The standard three rows of seats had been mounted in a nonstandard U configuration. The longest bench ran along the backside of the driver and front passenger seats. A shorter one sat before us, and an even stubbier one—basically one oversized seat—fit in the space not occupied by the rolling door. Built-in cabinets filled the rear of the van, and I bet the obvious seam meant the doors were still functional. There were even refrigerated trays tucked under the seats.
“This is new.” I smoothed a hand over the buttery-soft leather seats, black with red piping. “How many cows sacrificed their lives so that we might lounge in comfort?”
“I didn’t ask.” Linus appraised the interior with a critical twist of his lips. “Leather is easier to clean.”
The man had a valid point. “You bought this?”
“I did.”
For me? Unable to ask the question, I let my eyes do the talking.
He read me like a familiar book highlighted with his favorite passages. Who else?
“He placed the order after Atlanta,” Hood explained. “I oversaw production myself.”
“Tony was past his expiration date even then.” I climbed in and sank onto the far bench. I liked the idea of having an exit right in front of me. I sat there, waiting to see if the new environment stirred any anxiety, but it was spacious, and Linus was with me. “I should have checked his throat for a barcode.”
Linus chuckled, and I flushed scarlet when I caught the drift of his thoughts. “It’s not that funny.”
Despite the fangy half of my parentage, I wasn’t a vampire. For one thing, I didn’t sport canines of unusual size. For another, I didn’t have a fridge stacked with blood bags or a snack lounging in the guest room.
But I did have one following me into the van.
Linus was my friend, not food.
Dang it.
He was kind of food.
Picturing Linus cling wrapped did it. I chuckled at the mental picture, and then I laughed out loud.
“The joke wasn’t that good.” Hood twisted around in his seat. “What am I missing?”
Linus left me to enlighten Hood or not. “Turns out the reason I’m so puny is I require blood in my diet.”
“Makes sense if you’re half vamp.” He slid his gaze to Linus. “That your chew toy?”