Page 14 of Blood Lovers

She sputters a little bit. “Well, I… I guess I never thought—”

“From now on, if you want to be here with me, you will ignore Lucia. Do you understand me?”

Echo wilts a little. “Yes, my lord. I understand. But she’s so…”

“I know. She’s old, and powerful, and can make your life a living hell. So this is a challenge for you, Echo. A challenge you must decide to overcome. Choose. Her or me.”

“You, of course, my lord!”

“Of course.”

“I will.” She promises this as we climb the stairs. “If she ever wants to do something like this again, I will come find you and tattle immediately.”

I laugh out loud at her honesty and admission of cowardice. “That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard all night. She’s dangerous, Echo. Far more dangerous than you can even imagine. Do not cross her to her face. Do you understand?”

Echo nods enthusiastically, making her pink bob hair actually bob. “Yes.”

Then we’re at my double doors. I punch a code into my digital lock and pan my hand to the door handle.

I can tell Echo is nervous about opening the doors for me. Which means… there might actually be a couple of humans fucking on my bed right now. But she puts on a confident face and swings them open.

We both stare at the empty bed, and she actually giggles out a sigh of relief. “Told ya so.”

I tap a finger on her cute nose and smile. “You did, didn’t you. Stay right here. I will be right out and then we will check on the feeder.”

She melts a little at my attention and I immediately decide I love her.

Then I close the door on her face, just like Hutch did to that sexy thing who I will find and fuck one day soon.

I walk over to the bedside table, take out a satellite phone, and call up from memory the numbers that will lead me to Ryet.

He answers on the ninth ring. “What?”

“Are you so busy partying that you can’t pick up the phone?”

“I’m hunting, you asshole. I’ve caught a scent.”

This is a good development. “I had hoped, but—”

“It’s happening, isn’t it?”

He’s talking about the dying witch. “Yes, Ryet. It’s happening.”

“I can feel it. It’s… weird.”

Ryet is not one who typically talks about his feelings to me. So I encourage this. “Feels weird how?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try.”

“It’s a sick feeling. I know I don’t even drink that old skag, but I can feel her dying.”

What he means is, he only drinks blood from me. He has never tasted anyone else. But this feeling of sickness might be a problem. “Do you require assistance?”

“For what?”

I roll my eyes at his contemptuous tone. “You’re feeling ill. Do you require a drink, Ryet?”