Promises to Keep - By Amelia Atwater-Rhodes Page 0,7

can’t ask a cat to shed its claws.”

“Are you a pet?” Xeke asked, his mood lightening in the face of Jay’s honesty. “Or more of a wild animal?”

“Depends on how I’m feeling,” Jay replied. Sometimes he was a lizard, or a fox. Sometimes he wanted to be a kitten. “What are you looking for?”

He hadn’t intended the words to be flirtatious, but as Xeke quirked one brow and the images in his mind answered for him, Jay knew the vampire had taken them as such. It was hard not to flirt with someone whose mind exuded confidence and frank interest.

Aloud Xeke said, “Your knife makes me nervous.”

Jay took a step away, and then turned his back on the vampire so it wouldn’t be taken as a threat when he drew his knife.

This blade wasn’t just a weapon; it was an anchor. Generations of magic imbued in the silver helped Jay ground himself and focus, despite his limited ability to filter what his empathy picked up. Without it, he might still be staring, slack-jawed, at Kendra, lost in her mind.

He could probably live without it for a few minutes.

He flipped the knife around so he was holding it by the blade, and offered it to the vampire.

“Put it somewhere safe, or give it to someone you trust to get it back to me after.”

The offer shocked Xeke. Voice laconic but mind nervous, he asked, “Isn’t this violating some kind of ancient law?”

Jay laughed, shaking his head. “You’re thinking of Vida’s line. Mine trusts us to make up our own minds. I know you’ll get it back to me.”

“How?” the vampire asked.

“I just know.”

And he did. There were mysteries in Xeke’s mind, but he would honor any deal he made, and any power relinquished to him willingly would never be abused.

“Telepath?” Xeke asked.

Jay nodded.

Empath, actually, but most people didn’t know the difference and didn’t care. The crucial distinction at the moment was that, while Jay could shield his mind to keep telepathic creatures from reading his thoughts, and could protect himself from most magical intrusions, he wasn’t very good at shielding against the empathic impressions he always picked up from those around him. Xeke needed to make his mind up, because Jay needed to get out before he completely burned out.

The clock began to toll midnight.

“Well?” Jay prompted.

“Keep the knife,” Xeke said. “I don’t know you well enough to accept it.”

“Want to get to know me a little better?” Jay asked as he returned the knife to its place. He had been on his way out, anyway. He might as well round out the evening with another new experience.

Xeke was said to be of Kendra’s line, and though he was nominally allied with Midnight, he was outspoken against the slave trade. He was also politically savvy enough that he wouldn’t want to cross SingleEarth and the witches, which meant Jay was probably safe with him.

Probably. Xeke was also known for breaking rules and crossing people who shouldn’t be crossed.

“I think it would be best if I ask you to make very clear what you are offering,” Xeke said.

Jay tilted his head—a very feline expression of impatient curiosity—as he met the vampire’s eyes directly. “I’m offering blood. I’m offering to let you into my mind. Is that clear enough?” Sometimes he forgot that others needed words to make these things obvious to them.

“Clear enough to be irresistible,” Xeke replied as he stepped forward and gently grasped Jay’s wrist. He wanted to control Jay’s dominant hand, the one best angled to draw his knife.

Jay closed his eyes and let the vampire maneuver him into the position he wanted. Unsurprisingly, he had never done this before.

Xeke was firm but not rough, making it clear in the pressure of his grip that it would be best if Jay didn’t struggle. Jay relaxed into the restraint.

At the moment when fangs punctured skin and the blood began to flow, he felt Xeke’s mind nudge his. Jay’s shields were too good to be penetrated without permission, but he gave that consent, dropping his mental walls so he was as defenseless as a human.

Suddenly—screaming.

Jay shoved away from Xeke and ran toward the shrieks of pain, agony, anguish. He raced through the crowd, dodging couples in bloody embraces, until he was once more at the paintings of Freyja.

No one in the crowd approached the artist while she shredded her own work with her nails, leaving bloody trails behind.

The wild madness rising from her made Jay’s head spin. Why had he left