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For a second I thought he smiled again, but it was gone before I could be sure.

“When I was young – human still – my grandmother told me to seek the flame-haired lassie, and she would be my world,” he breathed, his voice carrying the weight of the years that his face didn’t show. “She would tell stories o’ the fey born in the gloaming – as I’d been, and when she spoke o’ such things, even my pa would listen…” He paused. “I heard those same words again, later. Then once more, before the war, from another I would’ve trusted with my life.” Cool fingers laced through my hair, tilting my head back to meet his gaze, and this time I didn’t pull away from his touch. “Three times I was promised ye. Three times I feared I’d lost my chance.”

His eyes darkened. “Now that I’ve found you, nothing in heaven or hell will take ye from me.”

The words sent a thrill through me. There were questions I should ask, things I knew I needed to understand, but they dissolved beneath the intensity of his gaze.

He stepped closer, backing me gently against the doorframe. His lean body didn’t touch mine, but I could feel the coolnessradiating from him in the narrow space between us.

“I know you’re uncertain, love. That you hardly know me. That you’re grievin’ still… but I can feel the heat beneath your skin when I’m near. Hear how your heart beats faster for me,” he leaned in until his lips almost brushed my ear.

He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, challenge and desire mingling in his expression. For a moment, I thought he would close the distance between us. Instead, he pulled back, leaving me breathless, heat curling deep in my belly.

“I’ll see you verra soon,” he promised, his hand ghosting along my jaw to brush his thumb across my bottom lip. I closed my eyes momentarily against the feeling, nerve endings alive beneath his touch. The air between us seemed to thicken, the distance narrowing until I could feel the cool energy radiating from him. My lips parted slightly of their own accord, and his gaze dropped to them—

“Shall we get going?” Isabel’s voice shattered the moment, her silhouette appearing in the doorway. I stepped back quickly, reality crashing over me like a wave of cold water.

I nodded, shakily, and crossed to the car without a word.

15: When Did It Become Alright to Trust Them?

We were silent on the drive home. Isabel stared out of the window from the passenger seat, her scarce breath making a slight fog on the glass. Streetlights swept across her pale features in rhythmic patterns, making her seem more statue than person. Pulling up outside the house, I switched off the engine and was about to get out when Isabel caught my arm.

“I wanted to speak with you,” she murmured, her eyes guarded. I swallowed. This must be as awkward for her as it was for me.

I pursed my lips, reluctant. “Can it wait until we’ve seen Tom?” I asked. It wasn’t the real reason I was stalling, but I had an inkling about what she might have to say that couldn’t have been said at the manor, and I wasn’t particularly looking forward to explaining myself.

Isabel nodded curtly, and we went inside.

Tom was curled up on the sagging velvet sofa, asleep. Theliving room was dark except for his laptop’s ghostly glow, the screen’s white light throwing the lines of his face into sharp relief, making the bruising look even worse. Even from across the room, I caught his faint scent of soap and pencil shavings – clean and woody, like cedar – clinging to the blanket and cushions around him.

I switched on the brass lamp by the window, and its shade cast a warm circle on the bare floorboards as I drew the heavy curtains and Isabel knelt before him.

“He seems to be showing signs of improvement. His pulse is stronger, more regular than last night,” she murmured, her fingers pressed against his wrist. “And there’s no sign of a temperature, so likely no infection.”

Tom stirred as she gently pulled at the collar of his dressing gown to see his throat better.

“It is healing well already – a side effect of the bite presumably, but in this case that may be a good thing.” She seemed satisfied with his state, which was more than I’d hoped for.

“What do you mean, a side effect?” I asked, crossing the room to her side. She was right – Tom’s wound looked days old, though it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours.

Isabel considered me for a long moment, and I got the impression she was deciding whether she could trust me.

“Some vampires carry a substance in their saliva that can seal a wound, allowing for quicker healing by encouraging clotting,” she explained, finally. “Unfortunately, it is often abused by the more sadistic of my kind to keep a victim aliveover an extended period.” Her tone was disapproving, I was glad to hear.

I thought back to April and the girl in the warehouse near Solace’s. It seemed like months ago, but it had never occurred to me to check on her injuries… I’d just dropped her at the A&E, hoping no one would see me.

Isabel stood; her movement quicker than I could take in, sending me dizzy as my eyes tried to keep up with her. As she did so, Tom rolled onto his back, wide awake. He started when he saw us watching him.

Colour flooded his face as he saw who I was with. “What the hell is going on?” he struggled to get upright, his long arms and legs sluggish.

“Tom, this is Isabel—” I began.

“I can see who she damn well is! What’s she doingin the house?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Let me explain,” I gave Isabel a fleeting look for some support, but she just shrugged fluidly.

“Perhaps I should leave.” She shot a look at Tom, more curious than upset, and I nodded curtly in agreement. I walked her to the door, listening all the while as Tom muttered under his breath.