“You can blame it on me. Less blood means slower flow,” Rhys said amiably. “What’s she going to do about it? Stake me?”
The laugh escaped her before she could stop herself. Rhys chuckled, and she realized she’d nearly filled her flask. She carefully corked it, then pocketed the knife. As she backed away, she realized the man was pale as paper.
“I’m supposed to give you blood,” she blurted.
His head tilted. “You don’t look like you want to, but I wouldn’t say no. It’s been a few days since I’ve eaten, I think.”
“Why are you so nice?” she asked.
“I’ve always prided myself on having a good bedside manner,” he said wryly. “Being a prisoner hasn’t changed that.”
Despite his genial attitude, his pretty eyes went ruby red as she used the knife to cut into the fleshy heel of her left hand. Glinting white fangs descended over his chapped lips, and he leaned closer. His jaw ticked, and his tongue skimmed his teeth, and to her surprise, he carefully covered his teeth, placing his lips over the oozing cut on her palm instead of tearing into her.
Her instincts flared to life, magic crackling across her skin as her mind told her, Danger! You’re bleeding!
But he let out a soft sigh—was it relief? pleasure?—that filled her with a strange, buzzing warmth. The pulling sensation ceased, and he turned away. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and his eyes shone brilliant red when he looked up. High, feverish color bloomed on his pale cheeks.
“Back off,” he said, still calm, but in a low, brusque tone. He leaned forward, teeth glinting. She yanked her hand back, and he shook himself. “I’m sorry. I’m very hungry, and it’s hard to control.”
She swiped her hand with the dishtowel, standing back from him.
He licked his lips, holding her gaze. “You’re quite strong, aren’t you?”
“No. I’m just an apprentice,” she lied.
“A mask of modesty. Very clever.” His smile faded. “Stella, I don’t know the first thing about you, but I know what Armina Voss is capable of. She is going to kill Scarlett Ward. Do you know who that is?”
She nodded, but that made no sense. “Scarlett’s like her daughter.”
Rhys shrugged. “Do you think she’s capable of it? And maybe a more pertinent question is…do you want to be a part of it?”
Stella froze. “You’re right. You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know that you could have been cruel, but you weren’t,” he said.
“That’s a pretty low bar.”
He shrugged. “You’re not wrong. What does that say about the company you keep if you’re the first to meet it?’ His brow furrowed. “Please let me go back to my family.”
“I can’t,” she murmured.
She spun on her heel and raced for the stairs, heart pounding as she went up. After setting the flask on the counter, she carefully washed her hands, trying to push that soft-spoken, polite vampire out of her head.
Lux peered at the flask, then set it aside.
“Are you making stakes for Julian’s followers? Like Paige and Adrian?” Stella asked.
The other witch looked up. “I need you to go get supplies.” She turned back to her basin, stirring slowly. The air around her smelled of magic. And for some strange reason, she hated the idea of Lux pouring Rhys’s blood into that mixture.
He was too nice for that.
“Did you hear my question?” she said. “What are you doing?”
“I gave you the answer you deserve,” Lux said.
“You don’t have to be so rude to me,” Stella said hotly.
The other witch laughed, still staring down at her basin. “Are you under the impression that we’re equals?” Her head jerked toward the door. “Supplies.”
