Page 27

Njáll

I don’t look up as Maurice lets himself into my office. I am still working my way through the list Afsaneh gave me. I want to check all the records we have on these vampires myself because at least that way, I cannot be surprised if things go wrong.

Not that I think they will. Afsaneh gave me a good rundown of the entire list the other night, and I trust that her information is solid. I just need to do this for my own sake.

“Njáll,” Maurice says. His voice sounds strange, but I don’t look up. One of the vampires has done a stint as our treasurer before, and I am trying to work out why she left the job. The records she worked on all seem to be fine.

“Njáll,” Maurice says again, this time with some bite to it.

I look up, and I freeze because something is wrong . I cannot pinpoint how I know because I think if most people were to look at Maurice, they would notice nothing different, but whatever he has to tell me is not going to be pleasant.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, and his eyes immediately go soft, breath hitching in his chest.

“You—” He shakes his head. “I have to leave. Tomorrow. I have to leave tomorrow.”

I lean back in my seat, the candidates for our new chieftain forgotten. “You… what?”

“I have to go.” His voice is small this time, and he is standing a few feet away from my desk, looking untethered. “The Huntsman came to see me. There are other matters to deal with.”

“The fae?” I ask.

Maurice nods.

“And he didn’t make you go tonight?”

“No. I told him I needed to say goodbye.” He fidgets, wringing his hands together for a second before he straightens his back. “I suppose I have, so…”

He heads for the door. For one second, I am astonished and furious because that was not a goodbye at all, and the next I am out of my seat, my hand slamming the door back into its frame.

Maurice glares at me. “You can’t keep me here, crai.” His voice is even colder than it was when we first met.

I glare right back. “That is not the plan. That was not a goodbye.”

“Goodbye, then,” Maurice says with a shrug. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“What more do you want?”

“I—” I grab the front of his shirt and shove him back against the door, the entire time aware that he is letting me do this, that perhaps he doesn’t want to go at all.

We stay there for a moment, both silent. My head is bowed, my eyes trained on the floor. I don’t want to see Maurice’s expression. I’ve given too much away, perhaps, but I really thought…

I don’t know what I thought. I know we cannot be together. I am not even certain that would be a good idea.

But I thought we meant more to each other than this. Whatever this is.

Maurice’s hand covers my own, but he doesn’t push me away. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and I let out a shaky breath. “It’s all… I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Me neither.”

He huffs—it sounds amused—and I dare to look at him again. I don’t try to read his expression, but my cheeks heat from the way he looks back all the same.

“What about the fae?” I ask. “It’s worse than we thought, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Maurice says immediately, and my eyes widen at his lack of hesitation. “Promise me you won’t investigate anything. Don’t go chasing after them.”

“Why not?”

“He thinks they’re gearing up for war.” When I stiffen, my grip on Maurice’s shirt tightening, he shakes his head. “Over there. So they’re coming here.”

“So you have to stop them?”

“I’m part of the Hunt, Njáll.”

True.

“They set a trap for us,” I say, and I’m not saying what I truly mean. They set a trap for me . Maurice’s fingers dig into the back of my hand.

“You’re safe here,” Maurice says, even though I’ve heard him rant about the wards more than once. “I’ll find him.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better about it.”

“It’s my job.”

And he was terrified, last time, and I don’t think just because I was with him. I open my mouth to say—not that, not that directly—and Maurice drags me forward and kisses me with a passion bordering on desperation.

I let him, of course. I kiss him back. Whether a relationship would be a good idea or not means nothing in the face of this, the way I so suddenly need him.

“You need to feed,” Maurice says when we part. He tips his head back against the door and my gaze drops to his throat.

“The donors—”

“You need to feed the way you want to,” Maurice snaps, and when I look up at him again, he doesn’t meet my eyes. “Come on. I can keep us safe enough for the next hour. Let’s go.”

We don’t go to the same park as last time. I know what Maurice is doing by offering me this. Well, I know some of what he’s doing.

He doesn’t want me to ask more questions, that much is clear.

He wants to be close too, I think. It’s not an assumption I’d bet on, but it’s one I have all the same.

“Catch me,” he hisses once we’re through the gates, and then he’s gone.

A growl rumbles its way through my chest as I realise he’s out of sight. He’s mine , my prey, and I will have him.

I hear him in the distance, ears already attuned with as ready as I am to hunt, and I chase after him. Maurice looks surprised when I almost catch him the first time, but he slips out of my grasp with a smirk, and it takes everything in me not to roar with frustration.

There is more to this than simple hunger.

I do not want him to leave. I value his advice, and I wish to maintain his companionship.

And, perhaps, if he said the Huntsman had freed him of this task and he wanted to return to wherever he came from, then I would be less angry about it, but he did not, and so I am not.

Three more times he evades me, and I cannot feel his magic, but I wonder if he is using it to keep out of my grasp.

The exhilaration of the chase does not temper everything else I feel and so, when I finally do take hold of him, bringing him down with my arms around his waist, I push him against the ground too roughly, pressing our bodies together.

He pants against my throat, and his fingers dig into my biceps tight enough to bruise. One of his legs wraps around my hip, bringing us even closer, and I let out a surprised grunt at the feel of him.

“Maurice,” I say, but he growls, snapping his fangs together.

“Bite me.”

I bury one hand in his curls, marvelling at their softness, before I yank his head back and sink my fangs into his throat. I expect him to go boneless much like he did last time, but he still clings to me, panting and groaning as though he’s enjoying this as much as I am.

More, perhaps.

I don’t take much. Just enough that my head starts to swim; just enough that I will always remember the taste of him. Maurice’s breath stutters when I pull my fangs free. His hand is in my hair too, gently stroking the back of my skull.

I want… The world spins around me, but when I look down into his face, it all settles. Maurice stares back at me, and it doesn’t matter that I can’t tell what he wants me to do. I can feel what he wants, and not just in the way he’s pressed against me.

He groans when I kiss him, both legs wrapping around my hips with more intent.

I rest my weight on my elbows and kiss him deeper, marvelling at the taste of him here, too.

This feels right. Vampires don’t have mates like wolves—and I’ve never been one for the idea of a soulmate, not even when I was human—but Maurice fits in my life differently from anyone I’ve ever met.

He makes a muffled sound against my lips, and I lift my head long enough to frown at him. “What?”

“How much blood did you take?” he asks. He’s still breathing hard, and his pupils are so wide that I almost can’t see the grey of his iris at all. There are twigs in his hair, a smear of dirt on his cheek, and I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful in all my life.

“Not much.” It’s the truth. I’m not entirely… sober, I suppose, but what does that matter?

“What does that mean?”

I try to kiss him again, but he tugs on my hair just enough to make my scalp sting. I hiss through my teeth, and he grins up at me, entirely unrepentant.

“Answer the question, Njáll.”

Just because I have him beneath me, it doesn’t mean I have the upper hand. Lust shudders through me at the thought of that—he wants to be where he is; he just wants me to answer the question.

“Less than last time. Much less.”

“You know what you’re doing?”

I smile down at him, and his eyes soften. “Are you asking if I’ve done this before?”

“Fucking vampires,” Maurice says, rolling his eyes, and then he shifts his lower body and I’m the one on my back, with him straddling my hips. I reach for him, but I can’t move my wrists. They’re pinned on either side of my head, and not by his hands.

No. His clever, clever hands are busy unfastening my shirt, and only when I make a questioning sound does Maurice pause, gaze darting to my face.

“…Here?” I ask.

“Sorry, did you want me to stop so that we can traipse all the way back to the clan house?” Maurice says, one eyebrow raised.

He sits back on my hips, hands falling to his sides.

“Where, no doubt, you’ll be waylaid by one or more vampires, maybe even that fucking arse Augustine, and we’ll have no time at all to pick up where we left off. ”

He fixes me with a steady, almost condescending stare, and when I laugh, I am certain that I am as surprised as he is.

“You’re so clever,” I say, and Maurice blinks in surprise. “Show me what other smart ideas you have.”

Maurice smirks, the faint pink on his cheekbones showing me just how pleased he is. He unfastens the rest of my shirt quickly, then spreads it open, running big hands over my chest and stomach.

“If I had a week…” he murmurs, and I suspect those aren’t words for my ears, so instead I relax beneath him, panting as he maps out my torso by touch.

He teases my nipples, moving on when he realises that I’m not so sensitive there, and rocks his hips against mine as he squeezes my pecs and the flesh beneath my ribs.