"I'll expect you to report for weekly feedings from now on. You're weaker than you should be," Thomas said.
I stopped with one hand on the door, turning back to him with a scathing glance. "The deal was one feeding for one interview with one of Brax's wolves. This experience will not be repeated."
His words pelted my back as I stepped out. "I believe you have said that you would never take my blood before tonight. Keep telling yourself those lies if it makes you feel better."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I MADE IT as far as one of the sitting rooms before I collapsed into a chair, my legs unable to carry me any further. Without Thomas watching me, I gave up on trying to present a strong front, content to just rest for now. His blood was still playing havoc with my system.
If it didn't settle down, this would have been for nothing. There was no way I'd be able to talk to the wolf in this condition. I refused to let that happen, not after what I risked.
My eyes closed, and I slowed my breathing, in and out. In and out. Forcing my heartbeat to slow with it.
Silver lining in all this—I got the sense that the connection with Thomas didn't allow him to compel me, or at least not to the extent that I feared. I'm sure if he exerted enough raw power into the compulsion I wouldn't stand a chance, but that had been the case before as well. I'd learn eventually how far this connection extended, whether he'd have access to my thoughts and innermost self. I'd have to deal with that when the time came. Not now. I had more important things to worry about.
Liam walked around the corner, his focus on where I was sprawled in an armchair. His lips quirked with a trace of amusement, and I fixed him with a hard stare. Nothing about this matter was funny.
"I'm surprised you made it this far," he said.
I grunted. "Me too. I feel like half my bones went on sabbatical."
"Only half?" he asked, arching one eyebrow.
"The other half is too stoned to move."
"Ah." His chuckle wrapped around me in a warm embrace. He moved to the armchair across from me and sat down, his body as lithe and sinuous as a cat's. His sprawl was nothing like mine—which was more of a boneless flop. His was a thing of beauty. One that seduced and spoke of dark pleasures.
"Thanks for the advice," I said in a stilted voice.
He inclined his head.
"Why'd you help me?" I asked, unable to resist. His warning about staying separate made a difference. I just couldn’t tell how much of one yet. "I doubt Thomas would appreciate your interference."
The look on Liam's face was thoughtful. "Perhaps not immediately, but I have faith he'll see the wisdom in my actions eventually."
He was either naive or just stupid. I couldn't tell which. Thomas, in my eyes, was a power-hungry asshole who wanted things his way now. I doubted he would ever appreciate the fact that Liam had helped me maintain some distance in the connection.
"I don't know what you see in him," I said.
Liam rubbed his finger against the arm of the chair as he tilted his head. "You see him through the lens of a few interactions. Perception is rarely reality. I have the benefit of centuries of exchanges to pull from."
I made a sound of disgruntlement. If he said so. I didn't plan to take his word on it, though. What I'd told Thomas was the truth, this had been a one-time thing. I didn't plan on giving him any further opportunities to sink his hooks into me. Not unless it was absolutely necessary.
"Do you know when Brax's wolf will get here?" I asked. Sunrise was less than two hours away, and my experience last night had made me wary of cutting it too close.
"She's already here. That's why I tracked you down."
I struggled to sit up. "Why didn't you say so?"
"You looked so content sitting there, I didn't have the heart to disturb you," he teased. His expression turned serious. "You need to remain still for a while longer to let your body acclimate to the blood. Thomas has a lot of power and his blood packs quite a punch."
"I don't have time for this," I said, finally fully upright.
Liam was next to me in the next moment, pressing me back into the soft cushions, his face close to mine. His eyes flicked to my lips before he gave me a wicked smile. "You have more time than you think. Consuming Thomas’s blood has the nice benefit of enabling you to resist the sun once it rises."
I paused and gave him an intrigued look. "You mean I won't be tied to its coming and going?"
What would it be like to have so much more time in my life? I could finally take on more runs, which would mean I could stop living hand to mouth and finally make some decent money. It wasn't too bad with the long nights of winter, but during summer my hours were seriously curtailed. Shortened hours meant less runs, which meant less money.
"For a short time." He gave me a meaningful look. "Unless you make it a regular habit."
I grimaced at that statement. Tempting though it was to be free from the prison of the sun, I didn't think it was enough to make me come over to the dark side.
"What's with your sudden insistence that I tap his vein regularly?" I asked. My bones felt like they had a bit more substance. Liam was right, much as I hated to admit it. The few minutes we'd been talking had gone a long way to restoring my strength.
He studied me with a thoughtful expression as if he was trying to decide how much to tell me. "I've said before that you're not a typical vampire, even for a yearling. One of the ways your making is different than others is the fact you were not given regular access to your sire's blood, or any other master's blood, for the first year of your making."
"And you're trying to make up for that now," I said.
He inclined his head.
"Why?"
There was a pause. "There are certain benefits that come with drinking from your master for the first few years after the turn."
I nodded, pretending to understand even though his answer left as many questions as it answered.
I rested my head against the back of the armchair and watched him from under veiled eyes. His was the sort of face I could watch for hours. That is, until he opened his mouth. Then, I just wanted to punch him, more often than not.
"You two were made by the same sire," I said, tired of my own drama. They'd called each other brother once, which I'd learned didn't mean they were actually related but had shared the same sire.
"Yes, our sire was very old at the time of our making." His expression turned distant.
"Were you made at the same time?" I asked, curious in spite of myself.
"Near enough by vampire standards. In reality, we were turned thirty years apart." His eyes came back to me with an odd light in them.
"Which of you is the oldest?" I asked, my lips stretching in a playful smile.
His eyes glinted in the light, his expression turning seductive. "Which one do you think?"