The Blood She Betrayed. Cheryse Durrant
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attacks? The neighbouring buildings showed no battle scars. Perhaps predators did not roam this gateless city. `Does your father own the building?'
`No, it's Ethan's. Well, it was his before he died.' He opened the door and made a flamboyant gesture, as if begging her to enter first.
She hesitated. Although her senses were sharper than a human's, and her reflexes faster, Max did not know she was a half-blood so why would he want her to go ahead of him? In her world, the man would enter first, to stalk out demons or intruders, but he seemed to take pride in letting her go first.
Her hand lingered on her hilt as she stepped over the threshold. Her Taloner vision enabled her to see the symmetrical designs, eclectic artwork and odd but luxurious furniture inside the darkened house.
A hollow click behind Max was followed by a blinding light which had her scrambling for her sword. She blinked rapidly, weapon raised, and scouted for intruders.
None. Only Max, drenched in light as strong as day. Yet it was night. She frowned. The light shone from the rounded candelabras attached to the ceiling, though they had been unlit moments earlier.
`What is this?' Eartherns had supposedly turned their backs on the magical arts centuries ago. Had magic regained popularity since the Keeper last communicated with Earth? If so, her challenge would be greater.
`It's just the lights. See?' He pointed to the switch on the wall and flipped it off. Darkness. Another click. Light. `You're kidding me, right? You've seen electric lights before?'
`Of course.' She sheathed her sword. `I am in character.'
What a wondrous world this was, full of ideas and inventions that her kingdom had not yet discovered. Like magical lights. She wished she could take this magic back to her kingdom and use it to aid her people.
But she had to find the death lantern and destroy the Taloners. She fingered the rough edging of her corded pendant. This world must have changed greatly in three hundred years. She needed to converse with the boy-man and tap into his knowledge, but to do that she had to fight against the constant, mesmerising beat of his heart.
Cultivate the friendship, but distance your senses.
Beg Danu! His Earthern scent saturated the air, teasing and tempting her. Hunger tore at her insides and she trembled. She sucked in a breath and tried to banish the sweet smell of his musk.
`You said you have sustenance?' She should not have followed him here. She craved his heart like no other; it tempted her darkest desires.
`The kitchen's this way.' He cocked his head to the left and guided her through to a large room that was accentuated by black marble bench-tops and twin silver cupboards.
This could not be his kitchen! She saw neither stove nor fire — nor even food.
`What would you like?' He opened the first silver cupboard and she felt cold air sift out from its interior. `I could make a chicken sandwich.'
`That would be excellent.' Flesh sated the hunger better than fruit or cheese.
He scraped butter on some bread taken from a transparent bag. `Where are you from?'
`You do not need to know.' His scent was maddening. Adrenaline flashed through her but she steeled herself.
`Oh, come on. Tell me.'
The huskiness in his voice forced her gaze upwards and her mouth turned dry at the tawny darkness of his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. Though he was an arm's length away he felt uncomfortably close. She had sensed his attraction the moment she rescued him and encouraged it, so that he might give her food and rest. What surprised her was her awareness of him. She was practised in fending off noblemen's advances so why did he unsettle her? Why did she feel this way?
His heart. The vibrant thud spoke to her, seduced her. She shuddered and grappled to distance herself. `Do your servants and bodyguards live with you?'
He looked up. `You think I want to talk about bodyguards when we can talk about you?'
`I am uninteresting.' Indecision tore at her. She should leave and go somewhere else, but how difficult would it be to find another Earthern so generous with their food and dwelling?
`That's too funny!' He glanced at her. `Unlike my father, I don't have servants — except for a cleaning lady and, as you noticed, I gave my guards the night off. We are alone.'
`Why do you need protecting?'
`Why do you avoid talking about yourself?' He carved the chicken and layered it on to the bread.
`It is safer that way.'
`Safer? I fell two storeys and didn't break a bone. You're the safest thing that's been flung at me in a long time! How did you rescue me, by the way? It felt like magic.'
His gaze burnt her and she shuddered at the skittish beat of her heart. What was this? She had reached her seventeenth year. She was no longer some girl-child who gushed sentimental at a poetic ode. It had to be the hunger!
No. Her desire for food weakened her and enflamed her Taloner cravings, but that was not what fogged her mind. The rich, alluring scent of his heart was a constant temptation. Had rescuing him been foolhardy? `We must eat.'
`There you go: one McCalden chicken sandwich special.'
`Thank you.' The food-laden plate teased her appetite further. `I am grateful for your hospitality. I promise I will not burden you long.'
`It's no burden. You're gorgeous; I mean you are welcome.' A muscle flinched at his jaw. `Would you like to watch TV or a movie?'
TV? Movie? She would settle for a dictionary. `Please, you choose.'
`Let's check the telly. Grab the remote off the coffee table.'
Remote? The round, glass-topped stand in front of her was littered with objects — a stained mug, scrunched-up paper, ugly pottery and a collection of small, elongated boxes.
`It's okay, I'll get it.' He grabbed one of the smaller boxes from the table and prodded at its raised, square buttons.
The torrid rumble of a thunderstorm, followed by voices and music, caught her off-guard. Her hand whipped to her hilt as people, standing in a forest, appeared as a moving painting on the broad wall before them. They were talking, as if enacting a drama, but she could not determine how they — or the music — were conjured. Harps and flutes were absent. If this were a spell, Earthern magic surpassed anything in her world.
The boy-man did not share her enthusiasm.
`Repeats.' He clicked again at the box to reveal less formally dressed humans, conversing on a beach. `And reality shows!'
He clicked multiple times, but became less pleased with each outcome. `Don't wait for me. Eat.'
She perched on the nearest padded chair and bit into her sandwich, the interweaving flavours and pale, flimsy flesh curbing her hunger.
Max tossed his control box back on to the table. `Never anything on a Sunday. I've got some Blu-rays. What do you like?'
`I am interested in geography, artefacts and enchanted spells.'
`Are you a fantasy buff, too? I've just bought Wizard Storm. Did you see it at the cinema?'
`Does it contain magic?'
`Does it ever!'
He disappeared into the next room and returned clasping a flat, multi-coloured box with Earthern writing on its back and spine. There was a large silver disc inside, which he inserted into a box near the wall. `How was the sandwich?'
`Delicious.'
Prodding at another box, he smiled as images, music and Earthern words shimmered across the wall. `It has the best plot line and Macius is epic.'
He slouched into the other padded chair and bit into his sandwich.
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