A Shade of Vampire 79 A Game of Death - Bella Forrest Page 0,63

Rimian girl—I assumed that was Leila. They spoke in hushed tones, but her expression told me everything I needed to know.

Leila was terrified but compliant. I worried about her, now more than ever.

Petra might’ve gotten me out of the infirmary, but I was already determined to go back there tonight, ideally under an invisibility spell, so I could see for myself exactly what Leila’s conditions would be.

Again, I found myself thinking that something didn’t feel right, but my instinct was not a precise tool, especially not without Amane by my side. I’d figure it out, sooner or later… this missing puzzle piece that made everything feel so disconnected and muted, yet dangerous.

Esme

When Kalon came to, he was partially submerged in the cold-water tub on the first floor of the Nalorean woman’s house. Her name, I’d learned, was Fifelle. The Rimian faction member was also awake but tied up and unable to move or speak—only groaning and moaning in protest, as he squirmed and repeatedly failed to free himself.

Kalon sucked in a loud breath, sitting up from the ice-water shock. Having been so deeply asleep until now, he hadn’t realized the sort of frozen hell he was coming back to. Fifteen minutes had passed since he’d fallen, and I needed us out of here as quickly as possible.

Fifelle had brought all the ice she’d been able to scrape off the box in her kitchen, and I’d used towels soaked in cold water to rub Kalon’s face, hoping to wake him up quickly.

“What in the ever-living—”

“You were out.” I cut him off, avoiding a string of profane words. I’d heard him curse before, during other violent encounters. Kalon could easily get a Potty Mouth Trophy without much effort.

He sprang to his feet, clothes soaked in cold water, his skin pale but his cheeks red, trying to make sense of everything. It was very hard not to laugh, but focusing on the urgency helped a lot. I handed him a dry towel.

“Come on, we need to get this guy out of here,” I said. He patted his face and rubbed his head with the towel, taking deep breaths in the process.

“What happened?” Kalon asked, looking at me, then at the Rimian, whom I’d dragged into the bathroom to keep an eye on while I’d waited for Sleeping Beauty over here to wake up.

“You got darted.” I snorted a chuckle, fiery blush spreading through my cheeks. I’d have hoped for more charming-sounding laughter, but it was hard, considering the unintended humor of this situation.

He stepped out of the tub, his legs still a little shaky. Water dripped from his clothes, the fabric molded onto every curve and line of his athletic body. My mouth became dry, yet another reaction I had no control over. Kalon was too busy feeling embarrassed to even notice my juvenile awkwardness or my hungry gawking—I could see the shape of his muscles through the shirt and even the velvety vest: his rock-hard abs and carved thighs, his sculpted shoulders and strong arms. My temperature, otherwise graveyard-cool, was rising.

“My head hurts,” Kalon muttered, scowling at the Rimian. “He’s the one who got me, isn’t he?” He looked at me, and I pressed my lips into a thin line in order to stop myself from grinning again. I shook my head, and he shifted his focus back to the Rimian. “Okay. Either way, we’re gonna talk, the three of us. I owe one of your colleagues for that dart, but since I can’t collect from them, well… I’ve got you.”

Fear twinkled in the Rimian’s brown eyes, but he didn’t exhibit any other reaction. At first glance, he seemed completely stoic, but I did wonder if he’d be the same once I was done with him—not to mention Kalon, who was already itching for revenge.

Fifelle showed up in the doorway, gasping with surprise. “Ah. He’s awake,” she said, then narrowed her eyes at me. “Now, get out of my house!”

“Do you know a safe place where we can go?” I asked Kalon while he was pulling the Rimian up to his feet with just one hand.

Kalon sighed and hurled him over his shoulder, ripping a shocked and muffled yelp from the guy as Kalon carried him out like a sack of potatoes. Fifelle got out of our way, eyeing us carefully.

“There’s an abandoned residence not far from here, as it happens,” Kalon grumbled, his boots thudding down the wooden steps. “Is there a back exit?”

“Around the stairs, blue door,” Fifelle replied from