Page 2 of It's in His Bite

“Damn it, Harlowe,” I muttered. The ointment stung where I applied it, and I hissed through my teeth. “Next time, just let the poor fool get in trouble. The orgasm wasn’t even worth it.”

Not anywhere near worth it, if I was being completely honest with myself. The last time I’d been with a man that clueless about my clit, I’d been a teen, and we’d both been virgins.

A drop of blood slowly trailed down my neck. I heaved a sigh and got out of the car, grabbing my bag with an aggravation I rarely felt. Hopefully Mom’s ready-for-anything first aid kit was still prepped up here because these were going to need more than a careless swipe of the vampire’s tongue and the anti-itch cream I always kept on me.

The walkway was already covered in a fresh layer of powder, the snow falling heavier than even an hour before. That snowstorm had settled over the immediate mountain range just like the meteorologists suggested it might. A flicker of unease twisted my stomach. Hopefully Tessa and Rhiannon had managed to start their way over the pass earlier than they’d originally planned. Driving the pass at night was already not all that great, and add in the heavy snow? Absolutely not something I wanted either of them trying.

I stomped off my shoes and then hurried to the kitchen, dumping my bag and jacket on the counter without any kind of decorum. The itching was getting even worse, burrowing so deep it felt like it might become permanent. I couldn’t help but scratch at it. One of the scabs ripped open, and I hissed, grabbing the hand towel and pressing it to the punctures. Getting blood on this sweater would just be the icing on the metaphorical cake that was this morning.

Damn it, this was why I didn’t offer my vein to vampires. For humans, their bite was innocuous. As long as the vampire took the time to close the wounds with their saliva, not even a pinprick of a scab was left behind. They didn’t itch, didn’t bruise. But for all of us supernaturals? Even the most gentle bite left behind wounds that scabbed and bruised and itched like the world’s worst mosquito bite on steroids.

The door to the deck opened and then closed, letting in a sudden gust of cold air that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Harlowe?” The rich caramel voice held an unwavering authority, but it wasn’t the thread of dominance that had my heart racing between one moment and the next. No, it was the distinct, posh British accent that curled around the vowels of my name like a damn drug. “Why do I smell blood?”

My breathing froze as my body locked down.

Fuck my life.

Turned out, there was actually no mercy from the universe today. My parents might not be here yet, but Landon Rhodes was nearly as bad. Of all of my parents’ friends that would be here in the next few days to celebrate Christmas,thisone was the worst possible options. It wasn’t just that he’d been best friends with my dad for years, though he’d only moved from London and joined our clan a little over a year ago. Not even the fact he was stoic and acerbic in every group interaction I’d ever witnessed, and all of my brother’s friends had multiple stories of his ruthless adherence to not only the secrecy law but the clan-specific code of ethics around finding blood hosts. Or that he’d been responsible for more than one idiotic teenager getting in a world of trouble with the clan leadership.

No, the worst part was that despite understanding exactly how asinine it was, my heart raced any time I was near him. My stomach twisted with butterflies and my cheeks flushed a bright red every time his eyes locked with mine. The worst part was that I had an impossible crush on my father’s best friend.

The universe truly hated me. Why else would he be the one to find me with a vampire’s poorly tended bite in the side of my throat and the scent of sex clinging to my clothes? This was worse than any walk of shame I’d done in college.

I tried to ignore his steps as they echoed through the large great room, opening the cabinet above the sink and pulling thesunflower-decorated bin that held enough wound care products to practically qualify as an urgent care. Blood seeped through the hand towel, so I twisted the fabric and used more pressure.

“Did you cut yourself?” Landon asked, true worry now laced through his voice.

I didn’t answer, ignoring the flush of my cheeks as I pulled one of the large pieces of gauze from the bin and tried to rip it open. The footfalls came faster, and then a gentle, warm hand was pulling the towel away from my neck, his hold featherlight where his fingers brushed my palm. Just the slight touch had his voice suddenly filling my mind.

Who in the hell did she let bite her? Joshua’s going to be?—

I sucked in a gasp and quickly twisted my hand out of his hold, cutting off the flow of his thoughts. It was my unique ability, the odd manifestation of my hybrid genetics. I could hear the thoughts of anyone I touched, my palm to their skin. It was invasive and jarring, something I’d never gotten used to. It was also a secret. Only a handful of people knew, and Landon wasn’t one of them.

Landon frowned but said nothing, all of his attention returning to my neck. He moved the towel fully away from my skin.

“Bloody hell.” His curse was vehement for all that it was a whisper. “What idiotic fool doesn’t make sure his bite is closed before leaving?”

He dropped the towel as if it burned him and then grabbed the thicker gauze from the bin, dabbing it against the bite before cursing again. A muscle feathered in his jaw while he pulled supplies from the bin, everything I’d meant to grab before he barged in. Gauze and bandages. Mom’s clotting tonic. The larger of two jars of her anti-itch cream, too.

“It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been a blood host.” My cheeks flushed darker. I pulled the clotting tonic from his grasp and unscrewed the lid. “I can take care of it.”

“The bastard bit too deep.” He scowled, his eyes flashing red, and ripped open a new bandage. “You’ve bled through a towel and an entire packet of gauze. Like hell can you take care of it.”

I rolled my eyes.

Was this bite bad? Yes. Had I had others similar? Unfortunately, also yes. Aftercare sucked when they were this messy, but I wasn’t a bumbling idiot about it all.

I carefully tipped the tonic’s bottle, letting five drops fall into my palm, quietly praying it was the fast-acting version of Mom’s recipe. Each dot stilled against my skin and then slowly expanded into the white foam I needed.

Landon stood close enough I could feel the heat of his body, could smell the snow and pine forest on the gray sweater he wore, could see the small gray hairs at his temple and peppered through his close-trim beard. Those butterflies I always had around him swarmed in my stomach and made it hard to breathe. I needed to get him away from me before I said something truly stupid.

“You don’t need to stand here and snarl at me like you’re my dad,” I groused as I pulled the gauze away and pressed my palm of tonic to the bites.

His green eyes narrowed and then flashed red a second time.

“If you don’t want me to tell your father, you will stop talking while I bandage it,” he muttered.