Vampire Debt - Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers #2) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,77
feedback system, his reaction turned me on.
I threw open his office door and marched into the large, bland office space, beelining for the desk. I flung back the password panel for him, then continued to the far wall.
His amusement trickled through our bond as he punched in the long-ass code, and I sent him an extra-strong dose of ire, maintaining it as I climbed the stairs to his private rooms.
Ugh.
I hadn’t been here since finding a bag of blood with my name on it in his fridge.
He was behind me, so I hurried to the fridge and ripped it open.
One bag left.
“The shelf was nearly full,” I said, covering my discomfort. “How much blood do you need?”
Fisting my hands in my satin skirts, I whirled to stare at him. He closed the door to the lair. “The correct question would be how much blood do I need now that I’ve completed three exchanges with you. I’m happy to tell you if you let me know who the spy in the tower is.”
I… What? “I never found the spy.”
His eyes glinted. “I believe you wanted to ensure the spy was indeed the spy.”
“Yes. And I didn’t exactly get time after finding my blood in your fridge,” I replied sarcastically. “I’ll work on it when I next get time.”
Kyros didn’t accept that one bit. “I need to drink three times my usual at the moment.”
His subject changes would give me whiplash one day. And the fucker did it entirely on purpose.
“What happens when you run out of my blood?” I asked after closing the fridge.
He crossed to the kitchen, filling two glasses with water. “I’m fairly certain that drinking your blood is the only thing giving me some shred of control around you.”
Good. “My blood in particular?”
Kyros’s nostrils flared. “Yes.”
My hand crept to my throat. “Don’t look at me like I’m a strawberry mojito, Kyros. I’m not giving you more. You’ll need to sort out your control issues some other way. Your dad was crystal clear.”
I spotted my Elegance pack on the dresser and ignored the glass of water he held out. Crossing, I riffled through the pack. Razor, body wash, moisturiser, two sets of clothing, flats, sandals, bank cards, and cash. Everything was here.
As I hoisted the bag, my eyes fell on what lay next to it. The broken pieces of the pinecone I’d gifted Kyros.
After I’d hurled it against the wall, he’d picked up the pieces and put them up here? I forced my eyes away. “Okay, thanks. I’ll be going now.”
I trailed off as Kyros crossed and gently took my bag, setting it on the bed.
Hooking an arm around my waist, he drew me to the round sofa where we’d completed our second blood exchange. He kept a firm grip on my hand as he shuffled back on the couch.
Pain suffused my chest.
This sofa was the only homey thing in the minimalist apartment. Kyros relaxed here after a hard day. We’d had a real moment on this couch in the past. Or one I thought was real at the time.
Being back up here hurt. Sitting on this couch with him would hurt more.
“Please let me hold you for a moment, Basilia.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, a similar loneliness to what I’d felt the last several weeks hit me. A pain over our separation. Bitterness at how things had ended. Anger and hurt. Regret.
None of that stopped me crawling onto the massive chair—but my ball gown did. Kyros leaned forward and gripped my waist, lifting and depositing me on his lap in a puff of satin.
Heart in a vice, I slowly rested my cheek against his chest.
Our breathing synced, enough for the two chutes of champagne I’d consumed to lull me into calm. That’s the explanation I’d stick to anyway. I’d conveniently ignore that I hadn’t felt this tranquil and safe since Grandmother died.
Kyros dropped a kiss on the top of my head. “What if there wasn’t a game?”
I inhaled where I remained tucked against him.
He continued. “You told me that you felt unsafe because of Ingenium. What if there wasn’t a game? Where would you stand then?”
“Is that likely with the massive bluff you guys are playing?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Good to know. “I don’t really understand how that works. Are you guys waiting for Mr Ringly’s drug addiction to come to light or what?”
Kyros inhaled my scent, a dreamy feeling filling him. “For a decade, Mr Ringly has pushed for his land space to become residentially zoned, entering