Page 27 of Grim’s Delight (The New Protectorate Syndicate #1)

She took a deep breath. “That’s interesting. I wonder how you got my private medical records, Dr. Turner, since I don’t remember giving them to you.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or Mr. Amauri, for that matter.”

The doctor looked up from his task of meticulously organizing his instruments to give her a glib smile. “It was handled for you, of course.”

Before she could give the doctor the response that shit deserved, Felix stepped up behind the couch. “Dahlia, just do this for me.”

“What do I get in return?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”

Knowing it wouldn’t work but trying anyway, she demanded, “Take me home.”

“Try again.”

“Drop me off at a hotel.”

“Still not happening. Try again.”

Holding his amused stare, she bit out, “A car.”

Felix’s smile turned predatory. His low chuckle made her toes curl. “You want me to buy you a new car, pet?”

Hoping her cheeks weren’t as flushed as they felt, she shot back, “So I can drive as far from you as possible? Yes.”

He spread his hands on the back of the couch and dipped his chin in an exaggerated nod. “A new car it is. Now come sit so we can get this over with, hm?”

Once again, it somehow didn’t feel like she’d won anything when she walked stiffly over to the couch and perched on the edge of the cushion.

She stoically endured Alvin’s impersonal inspection of her, trying not to wrinkle her nose at his smell as he leaned over to check her pupil dilation or press her tongue down with a popsicle stick.

He didn’t smell… bad. But he didn’t smell mouthwatering, either. Alvin smelled like citrus and fresh water and a little bit of mint. Nice, clean. Not for her.

Dahlia’s eyes swung involuntarily back to Felix, who hovered over the couch with his arms crossed, his attention fixed on the doctor’s every action. The roof of her mouth gave an angry pulse.

Alvin, who was peering into her mouth with a pen light, made a thoughtful sound. “Gland looks good, but it’s pretty inflamed. Are you experiencing discomfort?”

He withdrew the tongue depressor, allowing her to speak. “A little,” she begrudgingly admitted.

The doctor nodded. He didn’t appear surprised as he reached for his bag again, withdrawing a small plastic cup and a strange little instrument with a rubber tip encased in sterile wrapping. After donning a pair of gloves, he instructed her to open her mouth again.

“I need to take a sample of your venom so we can test what type it is. I’m going to massage your gland a little and it should empty a sample into my vial. Hopefully it’ll help with a little of the pressure you’re feeling, too.”

Dahlia frowned. “The doctor at the hospital did that already. With a blood test, I think.”

Alvin nodded, his fingers working deftly to unwrap the strange little instrument with the rubber tip. “That’s the usual way of doing it, yes, but my test is both less invasive and a lot faster. And it’s always good to have a second opinion on these things, don’t you think?”

“Your test?”

“Alvin comes from a long line of doctors who specialize in vampires,” Felix cut in, laying a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Blood’s some sort of weird fetish for them. Good for us, though. Alvin has spent his career studying better ways to treat us. And stitching us up when someone gets stabbed.”

“Blood’s only a fetish for me, not my father. He’s more interested in the aphrodisiac effects of venom.” Alvin said it with perfect sincerity, his handsome, rich-boy-next-door face completely at odds with the admission. “Now open, please.”

Still trying to work out precisely what kind of freak Doctor Turner was, Dahlia opened her mouth again and tried not to grimace as he inserted the tool.

The rubber tip pressed against her soft palate.

She had no idea what magic trick he pulled, but with only a slight amount of pressure, there was a release.

It wasn’t quite pain and it wasn’t quite pleasure that blinded her as a spurt of her brand new venom splashed into the plastic cup. It fell somewhere in between.

Dahlia gasped, shocked by the burn in her gums. Felix cupped the side of her head, stroking her hair, and made a soft, soothing noise.

With him, it was impossible to say whether his comfort was one hundred percent sincere, since he always sounded a bit like he was laughing at her, but the way his grip tightened made her think it was real.

Alvin withdrew both the instrument and the cup. She stared at the clear, viscous fluid at the bottom with a grimace. It couldn’t have been more than a teaspoon, but it was more than a little disgusting to suddenly produce any amount of new bodily fluid.

Kissing the crown of her head, Felix whispered, “You did great, pet. Not so bad, right?”

She looked away as Alvin dipped a cotton swab and began to dab her venom onto what looked like some sort of disposable test. “That’s so gross.” Pointing a finger at Felix, she hissed, “I want a silver car. And it better be fast.”

He nodded. “I was thinking red, but my girl gets what she wants. Always.” It did funny things to her when she realized there was no ever-present undercurrent of laughter when he said that. The madman actually meant it.

Dahlia blinked. Huh.

Alvin cleared his throat. “I also wanted to ask you about something I saw in your records. It says that you are absolutely certain Alastair Bowan was the blood donor. Can I ask how you know that? It sounded like there was a lot of blood on the roof during the… incident.”

“Incident, huh? That’s a nice way of putting it.

” Dahlia didn’t look at Felix again as she flatly explained, “There’s no doubt in my mind that Mr. Bowan’s the one who turned me.

I was standing next to him when I saw the explosive land behind…

uh, the woman. Yvanna. I managed to warn him and we took cover together. ”

The air in the room thickened with tension, but she couldn’t tell if it was from her own lingering anger or whatever Felix felt hearing what happened that night.

She rubbed the spot on her upper chest where the metal pierced her.

There was nothing there, but sometimes she swore she could feel it.

“A piece of a metal table went through him and into me. I woke up with us pinned together. When his men pulled it out…” She spread her hands.

“A lot of blood fell on me — and the big fucking hole in my shoulder.”

Alvin listened attentively, his face impassive. A slow blink was the only sign that her story made any sort of impact before he inhaled sharply. “Yep, that’ll do it.”

Her gaze skated involuntarily toward Felix, trying to gauge his reaction. His expression was blank, his shoulders relaxed. It was like he had no feeling at all about what had happened to her.

Hurt punched through her all over again. Dahlia gritted her teeth to stop her chin from wobbling as she looked away.

Alvin checked his watch before he leaned over the coffee table, his attention on the odd-looking test. He made a thoughtful sound and scooped it up to examine more closely.

“What’s that do?” she asked, desperate for distraction. “You said something about a venom type, but no one’s explained what that is.”

“Venom comes in a set number of sub-types — a lot like blood types, which you’re probably familiar with.

It’s synthesized from blood, actually,” he explained, “so your blood type and a variety of other factors can change what category your venom falls into and what you can be given in terms of medication and blood transfusions in an emergency. The most common are C, L, and R. There are sub-types within the sub-types, of course, but for our purposes we only need to know if you fall into one of those categories or outside of them.”

Dahlia leaned over a little, suddenly interested in what the test had to say. “What happens if I don’t fit into any of those types?”

Alvin tilted the test her way. On several small depressions arrayed in a line, she could make out a shiny dot of her venom. “Then you’d be the rarest: N.”

“What’s N stand for?”

“Neutral,” he answered. “It’s equivalent to being a universal blood donor.

It means that your venom would be essentially non-functional.

The pleasurable effects still work, but it’s non-toxic to other vampires.

Not great for self-defense, but there are definitely benefits.

Someone with the N type can feed on another vampire and vice versa without any negative repercussions.

Vampires call them blood brides, since they typically tend to be women — though the connection there is unknown.

I suspect it’s more confirmation bias than anything, since men tend to be under-tested. ”

He offered her a sunny smile, like they were discussing his favorite thing in the world and not the various properties of a little gland nestled in the roof of her mouth.

“Anyway, female blood brides can carry another vampire’s offspring to term, which is pretty extraordinary.

Many vampires believe a venom neutral person is blessed by Grim.

But I’m sure Mr. Amauri will tell you all about the cultural stuff. That’s not my area of expertise.”

As he spoke, an alarm started ringing in her mind. Quietly at first, then louder, until she struggled to follow along, too distracted by the hideous racket.

Alvin checked his watch again. Making a satisfied sound, he held the test up for his inspection. The divot at the very end of the line had turned a livid, sour apple green.

Her gaze darted back and forth between the test and Alvin’s face. “What’s that mean? That color looks bad.”

He gave her a winning smile — all white teeth and sun-kissed skin and impersonal satisfaction. “Congrats, Miss McKnight. You won the lottery of venom types.” He showed her the test again, like she was supposed to know what that green dot meant. “You’re type N.”