Blood and Kisses - By Karin Shah Page 0,36

her things to leave. That heavenly voice begging her to release him, to let him feed. To give him her blood, no matter what the cost.

If she freed him in person, he would fall on her like a wild beast. But if she weren’t present, he might attack the first person he saw, perhaps even kill him.

She would have to be there. She prayed her powers were strong enough to control him until he was sated and his reason returned.

“The trail ends here.” Spirit placed a white paw on the first of the dusty gray boards that led up to a slumping front porch. Thalia glanced up at the house, which must have once been white. Now its siding sagged like the skin of an elephant, pulling away from the exterior walls and leaving its boarded-up upstairs windows looking like a pair of droopy eyes.

“We’ll have to come back.” She shivered, suddenly aware of the imminent approach of sunset. There was no time. They had to return to Gideon’s house immediately. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll meet you there later. I have something to do.” Spirit sped off, nails clicking on the concrete. She sent a puzzled look after him, then sighed. It looked like she’d have to go to Gideon’s alone.

The question was, did a greater danger await her there?

He watched from the shadows, a prisoner of the light that still illuminated the sky, as the Champion and the dog separated. The Champion looked up at the house. Come in. Come in, he urged. He shuddered with perverse excitement. Was it possible his time was now at hand?

She placed a foot on the porch.

Yes.

He could already see Gideon groveling before him. Already hear his pleas.

She bent over, tightened her shoelaces, then stood and, with a last look at his window, turned to go.

Noooooo.

He fought the impulse to slam his hands against the wall, to roar his rage to the malicious sky. His hands clenched reflexively. He needed something to throttle.

Perhaps, he shouldn’t have been so hasty in disposing of his little puppets when they’d failed to lure his enemy to him as he’d planned. Oh well, there was always more where they came from.

He smothered the last embers of his fury. As much as he thirsted to vent his ire, he couldn’t risk drawing attention to himself.

Not yet.

His anger awakened a different kind of thirst. He glanced out the window. Damn sun. He put a hand on his chest and realized his shirt was stiff with blood. Spray from the little witch. He raised the fabric to his nose. It didn’t smell like poison. He sucked the fabric into his mouth. His saliva released the dried blood into his mouth. He closed his eyes. It didn’t taste like poison. He swallowed. The mixture of blood and saliva hit his stomach like a bomb filled with shrapnel. He bent over in agony, his body wracked by cramps so forceful they made him wretch. Sweat beaded his forehead and rolled down his checks. His empty stomach heaved continuously until he thought he might come apart. Time lost all meaning. Finally, he lay spent on the floor. Panting, he wiped the sweat from his eyes with a shaking hand. If only a tiny amount of witch blood could do that to him, what might happen to a vampire who ingested more? He shook again, clutching his middle and the sounds of his laughter filled his ears.

Gideon was in a boat on a vast ocean. An ocean of blood. Ripe and sweet. He could hardly wait to take a gulp; he wanted to dive in and swim in the heady stuff. He stretched a cupped hand over the side and filled it with the precious liquid, gleaming ruby-red all around him. He lifted it to his parched lips.

Water.

“No!” His own voice woke him and he lay in the bed panting, still chained, the sheets sweat-damp beneath him. He licked his cracked lips. The thirst was so terrible he’d only been able to sleep for short stretches before nightmares pried him from that small comfort. In his waking moments, he strained against his restraints, exhausting himself in his efforts to break free.

“Thalia.” He shouted her name to the empty air, his voice husky from overuse, but he knew it was no use. She had left hours earlier. He had heard her go.

The house was devoid of life. Devoid of the only thing he needed. Blood.

His famished body told him that sunset was imminent, but what good would