Blood and Wine - Margot Scott Page 0,35

Only, next time, you won’t wake up.”

I hate myself for what I’m about to do to her but biting her now won’t kill her or even leave scars. Not physical ones, at least. I won’t blame her one bit if she never wants to see me again after this—

Pain shoots up my arms, sharp and debilitating. At first, I think it’s Katherine trying to stop me from biting Mariah. Then I realize the pain’s stemming from my physical body.

I’ve been so distracted that I didn’t even notice Edward’s approach.

Mariah calls my name and it sounds like she’s standing at the other end of a long tunnel.

I come back to myself, chained to the stone wall, two very thick needles shoved into my veins, and the rim of a metal cup jammed into my mouth.

“As I suspected,” Edward says, continuing a conversation I’m only now becoming a part of. “Milking venom from a vampire really isn’t all that different from milking it out of a snake.”

I bite down on the metal cup, puncturing it. Edward rips the cup away.

“That’s enough,” he says. “I only needed a few drops, anyway.” He pours my saliva into a small glass tube, then caps it. “So sorry for the delay in feeding. I won’t have a fresh one for you for a few days.”

I can smell the bags of donor blood he’s brought with him. They’re slightly past their prime, but even so, I salivate. I know exactly who he intends to drag in here in a few days, just in time for her eighteenth birthday.

“She won’t turn,” I croak. He shoots me one of his signature how-the-hell-did-you-guess looks. “I’ll drain her dry before I let you have her.”

“You think I’m just going to throw her in here with you and wait for nature to take its course?” Edward chuckles. “Turning is a science, William, much like winemaking. I wouldn’t toss a bunch of random grapes in a barrel and call it Merlot, and I’m not stupid enough to let you anywhere near my investment.”

He switches out a full jar of my blood for an empty one. I’m surprised I have enough in me to fill one jar, let alone multiples.

Maybe he’s finally decided to bleed me to death.

My gaze falls to the vial of my saliva on the table. If Edward can get my venom into Mariah’s system before he kills her, he could facilitate her turning without involving me at all.

It would be a far cleaner, and more efficient way to accomplish his goal.

And Edward is nothing if not efficient.

I close my eyes in defeat.

“All these years, I’ve wondered how long it would take for a vampire to starve to death,” he says. “Perhaps, one of these days, if my investment pays off, you and I will get to find out.”

Chapter Fifteen

Mariah

My grandmother places a plastic thimble at the center of the kitchen table.

“See if you can call it to you,” she says.

I focus my attention on the thimble. It trembles and tips over. I’m so startled by the movement that I lose my concentration. It rolls to the edge of the table and falls to the floor.

“That was good,” she says. My grandmother is very impressed by my ability to manipulate objects with my mind, both here in the spirit realm and in the real world.

“Try again,” my mom says. I sigh.

“I don’t understand how I managed to blow up an entire cellar full of wine, but I can’t even make a thimble roll my way.” Edward blamed the broken bottles and lost product on a small earthquake and shoddy construction.

I’m not sure if he knows what really happened, or who he was trying to cover for. He hasn’t said anything to me about it, though I haven’t exactly made myself available to the Radcliffs since the incident with the photo albums.

“Trauma and necessity are powerful triggers,” my grandmother says. “But smaller tasks require specific intent. Keep practicing.”

She places the thimble back on the table. I take a deep breath and try again.

Things haven’t been the same between Will and I since he bared his fangs to me. Instead of immediately running to meet him in the vines as soon as I arrive in the spirit realm, I head to the guesthouse to say hello to my family. After visiting with them for a while, my mom walks me out to the fields.

Will keeps his hands to himself for the most part or holds mine chastely as we walk about the vineyard.