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Authors: Meljean Brook
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left in his blood had generated the other differences.
The bouncer’s eyes widened—Colin usually didn’t use the front entrance—and he quickly unhooked the velvet rope. “Mr. Ames-Beaumont.”
The urge to dash inside, to find the nearest willing body and glut was almost overwhelming. “Mr. Varney, this is Miss Savitri Murray. She should be on the short list.”
Her chin tilted up, her gaze leveled on Varney’s features. It was difficult to tell human from vampire, but Castleford would have taught her to recognize the signs: the careful placement of the lips during speech, the slight perspiration in heated rooms or on warm nights, abnormal respiration and reflexes. “What’s the short list?”
“Full access, miss, including Mr. Ames-Beaumont’s personal suite. No charge.” There was more, but Varney didn’t mention that any vampire who tried to drink from someone on that list would receive a visit from Colin. It hadn’t happened yet; there were very few people this side of the Atlantic to whom he’d give anything for free, and Lilith and Castleford were the only other names listed.
A vampire would have to be a blithering idiot to attack them .
“Except for tonight.” Colin led her forward and descended the stairs. “You’ll pay the cover and for your drinks.” An auburn-haired beauty was going up; she glanced at him, then froze with her foot in the air and watched as he passed. “Do you know the Guardians’ sign language?”
“No,” Savi said, and looked back over her shoulder. “I hope she doesn’t fall.”
He suppressed his laughter with difficulty, and said in Hindi, “I’ll walk with you to the bar; then I must leave you alone for a few minutes. Because you came in with me, you’ll be a curiosity to the vampires inside. They may approach you. Don’t ask them questions, don’t talk to them.”
“Why? Isn’t the point of all this that I’m seen?”
“You’ll be seen, sweet Savitri.” But he didn’t want them to have any more of her than that.
And hopefully, once he’d fed, his need for more would also fade.
It was inelegant, perhaps even ill-mannered, but Savi eschewed the straw and gulped straight from the glass. Lime and salt, sour and sweet. And cold—she couldn’t get enough of it.
Delayed reaction from the flight? Her breath fogged the inside of the tumbler. Heat from the mass of bodies?
Perhaps he’d been too stingy to pay for air conditioners.
She fished out a cube of ice, sucked it into her mouth. The bartender glanced at her. Another vampire. Colin had been right; they’d all watched as he’d taken her hand and led her through the club. As he’d dropped a quick kiss onto her forehead.
Like a little girl. A little sister. She’d known what it was: a display of protection. Because Hugh had saved Colin’s sister, the vampire felt obligated to guard Hugh’s adopted sister in return. She should have been grateful. Perhaps she would have, if she didn’t feel so restless, as if she’d suddenly been caged.
It was a familiar feeling, but it usually didn’t make her angry.
She crushed the ice between her teeth. Why was it so fucking hot in here?
She lifted her hand and gestured for another, asked for a water to accompany it. The wounds on her palm had almost completely healed; only a lingering stiffness remained. She examined the thin pink lines on her fingers. The blood sped healing—is that what allowed them immortality? Accelerated regeneration or cell replication, with no degradation over time?
But wouldn’t their hair grow more quickly if it was replication? Did it simply keep existing cells in perfect repair, not speed the manufacture of new ones?
Why did it only heal humans when applied topically, or through a transfusion? And why was it safe? A transfusion would temporarily give a human some strength and healing ability, but it didn’t last. Only through ingestion was there a danger—blessing?—of transformation.
Was it the choice to
The bouncer’s eyes widened—Colin usually didn’t use the front entrance—and he quickly unhooked the velvet rope. “Mr. Ames-Beaumont.”
The urge to dash inside, to find the nearest willing body and glut was almost overwhelming. “Mr. Varney, this is Miss Savitri Murray. She should be on the short list.”
Her chin tilted up, her gaze leveled on Varney’s features. It was difficult to tell human from vampire, but Castleford would have taught her to recognize the signs: the careful placement of the lips during speech, the slight perspiration in heated rooms or on warm nights, abnormal respiration and reflexes. “What’s the short list?”
“Full access, miss, including Mr. Ames-Beaumont’s personal suite. No charge.” There was more, but Varney didn’t mention that any vampire who tried to drink from someone on that list would receive a visit from Colin. It hadn’t happened yet; there were very few people this side of the Atlantic to whom he’d give anything for free, and Lilith and Castleford were the only other names listed.
A vampire would have to be a blithering idiot to attack them .
“Except for tonight.” Colin led her forward and descended the stairs. “You’ll pay the cover and for your drinks.” An auburn-haired beauty was going up; she glanced at him, then froze with her foot in the air and watched as he passed. “Do you know the Guardians’ sign language?”
“No,” Savi said, and looked back over her shoulder. “I hope she doesn’t fall.”
He suppressed his laughter with difficulty, and said in Hindi, “I’ll walk with you to the bar; then I must leave you alone for a few minutes. Because you came in with me, you’ll be a curiosity to the vampires inside. They may approach you. Don’t ask them questions, don’t talk to them.”
“Why? Isn’t the point of all this that I’m seen?”
“You’ll be seen, sweet Savitri.” But he didn’t want them to have any more of her than that.
And hopefully, once he’d fed, his need for more would also fade.
It was inelegant, perhaps even ill-mannered, but Savi eschewed the straw and gulped straight from the glass. Lime and salt, sour and sweet. And cold—she couldn’t get enough of it.
Delayed reaction from the flight? Her breath fogged the inside of the tumbler. Heat from the mass of bodies?
Perhaps he’d been too stingy to pay for air conditioners.
She fished out a cube of ice, sucked it into her mouth. The bartender glanced at her. Another vampire. Colin had been right; they’d all watched as he’d taken her hand and led her through the club. As he’d dropped a quick kiss onto her forehead.
Like a little girl. A little sister. She’d known what it was: a display of protection. Because Hugh had saved Colin’s sister, the vampire felt obligated to guard Hugh’s adopted sister in return. She should have been grateful. Perhaps she would have, if she didn’t feel so restless, as if she’d suddenly been caged.
It was a familiar feeling, but it usually didn’t make her angry.
She crushed the ice between her teeth. Why was it so fucking hot in here?
She lifted her hand and gestured for another, asked for a water to accompany it. The wounds on her palm had almost completely healed; only a lingering stiffness remained. She examined the thin pink lines on her fingers. The blood sped healing—is that what allowed them immortality? Accelerated regeneration or cell replication, with no degradation over time?
But wouldn’t their hair grow more quickly if it was replication? Did it simply keep existing cells in perfect repair, not speed the manufacture of new ones?
Why did it only heal humans when applied topically, or through a transfusion? And why was it safe? A transfusion would temporarily give a human some strength and healing ability, but it didn’t last. Only through ingestion was there a danger—blessing?—of transformation.
Was it the choice to
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