Red shook her head. “I thought I had him with the stake. Missed by an inch.”
Kristoff put the car keys in his pocket before he pulled out his phone. “I need prisoners secured in the garage.” Hanging up, he opened the car door. He hung his shaking head as he tensed to stand. “You should have used your magic.”
“I don’t need it to be a hunter,” Red bit out, face flushing. Her ribs hurt too much to explain the twists and turns in her logic. Abstaining from magic felt logical in theory considering her mysterious past. But in practice, not using magic had gotten her staked in the middle of a case. She was already kicking herself for it.
“Tonight’s not the best example of that.” Kristoff sighed at his rough tone, one leg out of the car before he turned back to her. His brow tightened, eyes lowering. He spoke again softer. “You have an amazing gift. Why not use it? Who’s telling you not too?”
“No one.” Red sighed through her nose, lips pressing shut from a wave of pain. “It doesn’t work 95% of the time, so why bother?”
“It’s a part of you,” Kristoff insisted.
“So’s my appendix, but I don’t need that either.” Eyes closing, Red put her hands on her stomach, trying to breathe deep.
The back doors opened, and two minions pulled out Quinn and Sal. The third, a Hispanic female with green hair, wearing a white bow tie with the dark Club Vltava uniform, stared curiously at Red.
Squinting, Red tried to place the vampire. Had they met before? The minion didn’t look like one of Kristoff’s entourage from the Halloween Ball.
The female paled, looking away at Kristoff’s glare, then hurried to help lift Quinn.
“Stay still.” Kristoff got out of the car and started barking orders at his people.
Breathing hard, Red closed her eyes and felt her side for the damage, fingers delicate as if running over a bomb. Her whole torso ached, causing her mind to whiteout.
Kristoff opened her door. He knelt to meet her eyes. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
“I can walk it off. No hospitals,” Red murmured.
Kristoff brushed a stray lock behind her ear. “Let me take care of you.”
“I’ll take your drugs, Mr. Novak. That’s it,” Red said primly as she tried to stand. A wave of pain overcame her. She slumped half out the door.
Kristoff gently swept her into his arms before sprinting up the garage stairwell into the employee hallway of the club.
Red’s eyes rolled back at the speed before the pain overwhelmed her again, and she faded into unconsciousness.
Chapter Sixteen
January 26th, Evening, Club Vltava, Los Angeles, California
“I can’t go to a hospital until we learn what Souled Sal has to say.” Sprawled on the black leather couch in Kristoff’s office, Red sat up to prove her point. The hovering vampire looked ready to tuck her in under a quilt and give her chicken soup. She was ready to be put back in the game, coach. Her head swam and her ribs ached, but Red tried to keep the determined expression.
They had captured Sal. It was only a matter of time until they learned who his boss lady was. Red was ready to put twenty on Sancha. If you were going to experiment with unsouling notable vampires, why not start with the nearest pains in your ass? Sal had been there the night Cowboy Kurt had died. He knew Sancha had watched Red stake her husband and then let them go. If Red was a liability to Sancha’s new stranglehold on power, Souled Sal was the closest thorn in her side as the vampire protector of the Oklahoma hunters. He had been sent to make the next viral Dague video. It was the biggest lead they had.
“Take more than Tylenol.” Kristoff pushed himself away from his large dark metal desk with a heel. The red flannel shirt had disappeared, leaving him in a white tank top and dark jeans. Minimalist tattoos, multiple black and red lines ranging from tiny to pencil-thick, circled his biceps.
His arms unfolded as he stepped over to her. Blue eyes soft in concern under his downturned brows, he stood over the couch. He studied her injuries as if cataloging them as future debts to repay. “You have broken ribs and god knows what other damage. Why not a hospital?”
“It’s only been a month since I was in one of those.” Red leaned back on the leather. The pain kept her breathing harshly through her nose, but her legs were itching to find Sal. He was the key.
She didn’t know why they were fighting about the hospital. Was Kristoff trying to distract her? The jig was up on at least one mystery that had confounded her. Did he really think she hadn’t noticed her neck trauma had disappeared?
Kristoff sat at the foot of the couch. His woodsy masculine scent was stronger without his usual designer layers. “You’re bleeding through your bandage.”
Swallowing quickly, Red held her wounded hand closer to her belly and curled her knees up, drawing her feet from him. She was alone and bleeding, in biting range of a vampire who wanted nothing more than to hear her to beg for his fangs.
Blinking, she realized she had been completely vulnerable with him for the last hour. Lucas and Vic were out of town, Quinn was unconscious, and even Delilah was busy tonight. It would have been the perfect moment for Kristoff to have smuggled his claimed human out of LA on a private jet. The notorious Butcher of Cologne had merely ordered her to drink water and take a painkiller.
She glanced down at the bloody bandage wrapped around her palm. “Yeah, that looks pretty gross.”
“I thought you and Quinn had it, so I held back until you called. You were so pompous, telling me to stay in the car like a child.” Kristoff leaned back against the couch, knees facing her. He huffed, biting his cheek in amusement. “Didn’t even roll the windows down.”
“Pompous? What?” Red mock-gasped, leaning on sarcasm to get her through a wave of pain.
The twinkle in his gaze faded. He brushed falling dark blond hair out of his blue eyes. “I don’t understand how a witch got staked by a short order cook tonight. You could have blasted Sal with fire. Is it because he is your friend or because you’re scared of your own greatness?”
Her ears heated. He was hyping up her powers, but he wasn’t wrong that she’d held back. Looking away to his bookshelf of dark leather tomes, she licked her curiously healed lip. Maybe he didn’t understand her, but she had confirmed something about him tonight. He might have no trouble using his gifts, but she still wasn’t sure of her own. “I didn’t because my magic is unpredictable, and we needed him alive.”
“You don’t want to use it. At least be honest with yourself about why.” His piercing gaze pressed on her even as she avoided it.
Red made herself face him. She chuckled, attempting a mocking sneer. “Yeah, I don’t need my eyes to turn black. Not a great look.”
“You’re beautiful when you do magic.” Kristoff leaned closer, pale taut muscles shifting under the white tank top. His soft smile brought out the dimple in his chin and left cheek. “You don’t need to be afraid of that power.”
“Now is not the time for a heart to heart about me accepting myself.” Blood rushed to her chest, pinking her skin, Red crossed her arms. She bit back a wince as her wounded hand brushed her arm.
“No, it’s time go to a hospital.” Kristoff got up and went for his phone.
Taking a deep breath, Red said the words slowly. “Or you could heal me.” Each one echoed in her ear. She didn’t know if it was pain or morbid curiosity that pushed her. He had told her he would always be honest with her. Would he keep that promise?
Strong shoulders tensing, Kristoff dipped his head. He glanced back at her, jaw tight, before he turned. Remote composure pulled over his handsome features like a curtain closing. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Who’s playing coy now?” Red lifted her palm. Cringing, she peeled up the bandage to reveal clotted blood and torn skin. She wrinkled her mouth at the sight as she flipped her palm over to see the unblemished back of her hand. “This is grisly, but that stake went straight through. I get that you didn’t heal it all the way to be sneaky, but how could I n
ot notice, Kristoff? I had a hole in my palm. Not to mention that Sal choked me.” She tilted her head to show off her neck. “Looks pretty good. But then again, if you’re around, my injuries are never that bad.” She ran her unwounded hand over his fang marks. “Even this one healed fast.”
Kristoff wet his top lip before glancing back at his phone. Tense, his tone grew clipped. “You need to go to the hospital. You hit your head.”
“Yes, and then you gave me your blood. Works better than aspirin.” Red shook her head as she rewrapped the bandage. “Admit it.”
“You’re not threatening to stake me?” Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “Are you possessed?”
“I only make threats I can keep. My staking hand is out of commission.” Red brandished her palm, the cracked ribs urging on her boldness. She had been after this unconnected dot for months. Like a word on the tip of her tongue, she’d had questions, but she hadn’t known what to ask until after Christmas. Now she knew she was right.
They were wasting time playing dumb about it. Vampire politics were spilling out into the streets. Eight innocents had already lost their lives. Who would speak for them when Cora was drawing up her battle plans? Drinking Kristoff’s blood was nasty, but he could get her back in fighting shape.
Ribs throbbing from her deep breath, Red stated her case. “I know what your blood can do. I did my research. It’s just like your bite. I’m not going to be psychically connected to you, so you can’t track me. I won’t turn into your Renfield. You’re not going to be able to beam sex dreams into my head.”
“You’ve been watching too much HBO.” Kristoff grinned, setting his phone down. He put his thumb through his belt loop. “Dreaming about me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Furrowing her brow and shifting in her seat, she looked away from him so he didn’t know how right he was.
The flirty amusement drained from his voice. His braced himself against the table as if expecting a whip. “How long have you known?”
“A while.” Red thought of Basil’s healed jaw and hand when he left the hospital. The implication hadn’t dawned on her that day. “I healed too fast after the warlock. When I came back for a checkup from the hospital, even the mage doctors said I was a medical wonder.”
She had been too sad from their goodbyes to remember a fundamental rule of magic. There were limits to mystical medicine, even by experts, unless you were willing to pay a heavy cosmic price. Vic’s recovery had amazed his new friends on the wheelchair basketball team. He had been given every relic, potion, and ritual that didn’t verge on the dark side for his damaged spine. He was still in a chair.
Red’s forehead tightened as she tried to gather her thoughts away from Vic and the consequences that Kristoff’s blood had for him. “Studying for the hunter’s challenge, I read up on all the Dark Gifts. It clicked.”
Kristoff studied her, vulnerability flickering in his blue gaze. His blood didn’t just cure, it would add a punch to any alchemist’s brew. Healers like him hid their talents as much as soulmancers did.
“I’m sure you have more than that to say,” he said.
Maxwell had psychically burned her spirit at a stake hot enough her physical form had sizzled on a hospital bed. She didn’t have a single burn mark. That said enough to her. “You have one hell of a gift.”
Kristoff sat next to her on the couch. He wet his lips, a strange dark conflict on his features, before reserve came over his face. The quick mind that had navigated the August Harvest as a fledgling vampire must have switched his survival instinct on. “Who have you told?”
“No one.” Red tilted her head. When the doctors said her recovery was a miracle, the miracle was in Kristoff’s blood. Gifted vampires, like the ones who could walk on ceilings or turn into bats, usually bragged about it. Healers like Kristoff had more predators than prey. Humans looking for desperate cures, mages looking to enhance a spell, alchemists seeking the philosopher’s stone or even other vampires with an agenda. She hadn’t seriously considered revealing his secret. “I would never mention this lightly. I haven’t even told Vic.”
“You kept my secret.” Kristoff cocked his head. “You didn’t even tell your boyfriend?”
“If it was his business, you would have already told him. You’ve known him longer than I have.” Red shook her head, wincing less from pain than from thinking of Lucas. She still had no idea where he was, but it was easy to guess his knowledge level. If Lucas had known, he would have broken down in the hospital to have Kristoff do something when Maxwell had psychically attacked her. Red drew the conversation away from Lucas. “If my timeline is right, you fed me at least twice on the solstice, then you healed Basil.”
“He told you he was healed?” Kristoff lifted an eyebrow.
“No. He was too busy packing.” Red said the words as firmly as she could to not give him ideas. They were caring, sharing, and growing like a therapy session here, but she knew this was a secret that any vampire with the healing gift would kill to keep. The fewer vampires thinking about Basil, the more likely the soulmancer would get a peaceful vacation. “I saw his jaw before he fled.”
“I expected you to be angry.” Kristoff leaned back on the couch, his arm unfurling over the back as he twisted to face her. Nervous energy caused him to fidget like a human. He looked down. “I had good intentions.”
“I can believe you have a few.” Tone sharpening, doubts creeped over her like spider legs. She knew the theory behind his healing blood, felt the effects, but this was the true practical experiment. Lips twisting, Red thought ruefully about how she’d told Kristoff they couldn’t be friends. Now she was asking for his blood.
Avoiding his eyes, Red shrugged to hide her tense pause. The motion jostled her ribs, making her sniffle a gasp. The pain reminded her of the last time she had turned her nose up at a magical solution. She stiffened on the couch, knees bent to the side. Red caught her breath. “It’s weird to know that you slip people blood when they’re unconscious, but I get it. Especially why you hide it. I can’t throw a snit fit because you saved my life and healed my friend. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Kristoff inclined his head, a small genuine smile tugged at his lips. He met her downcast gaze.
“Seriously. I had a protection spell on myself, but when I was burning at the stake in the Dreamland, it was cracking. Your blood probably kept me alive.” She lifted her wounded hand, bloody bandage looked like an aberration of color in the cool minimal decor. “It’s certainly saved me some nerve damage tonight. I’d still be passed out from shock if it wasn’t for you.”
He waited with an air of expectancy for her to continue.
Pulsating like the cry of an urgent warning siren, her remaining injuries overwhelmed her nervous system. Impatience colored her words. “Do I need to say it?”
Kristoff’s expression clouded. “Be clear on exactly what you want from me. For both our sakes.”
Mouth drying and heart pounding in her ears, Red couldn’t look away from his intense scrutinizing stare. There was subtext to the subtext in his words. “I want to stay in the fight. Cards out. If I can help beat the Dague and get back Alzbeta, then that evens the score with you, Marek, and Cora. I get three vampires off my back, and LA can sleep easier. That is why I want your blood.”
“That and curiosity.” Kristoff rubbed his jaw, considering. “You love weighing the logic. I’m fascinated by how selective it is. It would have been equally logical to blackmail me.”
“Thought about it, but somehow I think you already know what to do with blackmailers,” she said dryly.
His chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Intentions change. How will you feel about keeping my secrets in the future?”
“Ask Selene about the future. It’s hard to promise forever, so I won’t. Here’s the honesty part—I can’t tell you I won’t hurt you, accidentally or because I finally do stab you with cutlery, but I’m pretty good at secrets.” Red felt the unspoken power shift. As much as Kristoff had dug
his fingers in Sal’s chest, she had Kristoff’s life in her hand. She didn’t have a better way to explain that if she decided he needed to be vanquished, she wouldn’t do it by revealing his secret. Red would do it herself first. She didn’t know if that would piss him off, comfort him, or turn him on. Instead she asked, “So, will you heal me all the way, so I can stay in the fight?”
“I’ll share my blood with you.” Kristoff nodded. He lifted his hand behind his head and started pulling off his top.
“Hey!” Red squeaked, covering her eyes as the white fabric slipped up his toned stomach. “This isn’t an excuse for you to rip off your shirt and have me lick your manly chest.”
“It’s better from the source.” Kristoff wiggled his eyebrows as he dropped his hand. “More potent.”
“Keep your potency to yourself.” Red looked away, telling herself it was the ache in her ribs making her sweat. “You put it in some wine before, in the VIP room.”
“You’re an observant thing, aren’t you?” Kristoff stood before ambling to an etched steel globe on a rolling stand. Lifting the top on a hinge, he revealed the small drink bar. He uncorked a carafe and poured some red wine in a glass before he bit his wrist. His blue gaze locked on her. Blood drizzled into the wine, thick like corn syrup.
Feeling hypnotized like a viper before a snake charmer’s flute, she blinked the daze away. Her pulse pounded in her neck. Red had started this. She wet her bottom lip before lifting her chin. “How do you know how much to put in?”
“Experience.” Kristoff reclined by her socked feet on the couch. He put the glass in her uninjured hand before reaching for the other. “Let me see it.”
Pulling off the bandage, Red held out her wounded hand. She steeled her muscles, trying to not betray a tremble. You’ve left Sanityville on the crazy train, Red. She pushed away the small nagging voice that sounded like Vic.
Kristoff dug his nails into his palm, then made a fist, sending the blood dripping onto her mangled hand. The dark red fluid absorbed into the wound. Skin stitched itself back together in a ghoulish creep before her eyes.
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