“How did you do it?” asked Denny, fascinated. “How did you call the blood?”
“I didn’t mean to. When Sam started to bleed, I recognised the scent, and suddenly the taste was in my mouth…like a sensory memory.”
Butch curled my hair around his fist. “You fed from her during the transition.”
Well that explained it. “I couldn’t stop looking at the blood. But I didn’t have an urge to leap on her.”
Reuben bit into his pizza. “Why do you think you can suddenly do it?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Butch gave my hair a playful tug. “Lena said the serum could cause side effects. Maybe this is a side effect.”
Chico put down his beer-flavoured NST. “See if you can do it now.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I’ll cut my arm. You call the blood.”
I jerked back. “Hell, no! I don’t want to call people’s blood to me.”
“But you will, Imani; you might not mean to do it, but you will.” Butch’s voice was gentle. “And you’ll keep doing it unless you learn to control it. So start learning.”
It was hard not to growl. “This is so not the definition of winding down.”
Butch kissed my temple. “You need to learn how to control this, baby. You know it’s important.”
I sighed. “Tomorrow, okay. We’ll go to the arena tomorrow and I’ll practice. Let me have the rest of tonight to relax.” That wasn’t too much to ask.
“Tomorrow,” he agreed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
(Imani)
I’d kind of hoped Butch would forget about my agreement to practice calling blood, since the idea of watching Chico cut himself seriously didn’t appeal to me. But when we woke at dusk, Butch was quick to remind me of our little agreement. And since Sam and Jared thought the whole thing was a good idea, I had no support from their corner.
As such, no sooner was I dressed and well fed than Butch was ushering me to the arena. I ensured he knew I was there under sufferance, but that didn’t appear to bother him. Apparently his squad hadn’t forgotten about the agreement either, because they were already waiting at the arena with Sam, Jared, and my squad.
I walked to Jude. “I’m surprised you’re okay with this.” She didn’t look at all reluctant to stand there while her mate wounded himself repeatedly. But then, Jude did have a fondness for knives.
“You won’t be training with Chico. You’ll be training with me.”
I stiffened. He did not just say that. Slowly, I turned to face Butch. “You’re not serious.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Call me weird, but I don’t want to watch you hurt yourself.”
“This is necessary. You know it.”
Paige put a supportive hand on my shoulder. “You can do this, sweetie. He’s right; it’s necessary that you get a grip on this.”
I rounded on her. “You’re siding with him? Well, thanks, Judas.”
“Stop talking to Paige so we can get started,” interjected Butch. “Now, Imani.”
Rubbed the wrong way by that order, I gritted out with a false smile, “Sense the danger of continuing with that tone.”
“You’re just trying to start an argument so you can stalk out of here in a huff. Did you think I wouldn’t see right through it? Do I look stupid to you?”
“Do I have to answer that?”
Growling low in his throat, he turned to the others. “Everyone move.”
They all backed away, giving us plenty of space as we faced each other like two cowboys having a showdown.
“Concentrate,” said Butch. “Sense what triggers the call. Then you’ll know how to block it.” In a blink, he whipped off his shirt, snatched a knife from his waistband, and then sliced his chest.
Taken off-guard by the speed in which he’d acted, I did nothing more than wince at the sight of his injury. I had a strong stomach, but one thing made me cringe—the sound of a knife cutting into flesh. It was like nails on a chalkboard for me.
“You’re not concentrating,” growled Butch.
Yeah, well, the wound had closed before I had the chance to act anyway. In any case… “I didn’t feel a pull toward the blood.”
“I’ll make the cut deeper this time.” He sliced his chest again.
Cringing, I balled my hands up into fists. “You need to use a different weapon. I hate knives.”
“Hey,” whined Jude, offended on behalf of sharp implements everywhere.
When the wound healed, Butch took a tissue from Reuben and wiped away the excess blood—the scent of it was in the air, teasing every single vampire in the arena. “Again.”
“There’s no point; nothing’s happening.”
“Because you’re not concentrating. You’re overthinking it—obsessing about the wound.”