Blood Apprentice: An Elemental Legacy Novel

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “I’m fine.”

  He didn’t want to argue with her. “How was your trip?”

  “Uneventful. I’m just stopping by here for a few days, then I’m going to Tibet.”

  Cheng frowned. “I thought you were here about the job Jonathan emailed to Chloe.”

  “To be completely honest, I forgot about that.” She was silent for a long time. “What’s the job?”

  “A sword. A very old sword. And I wouldn’t be the one hiring you. That’s why I told Jonathan I wanted a phone call. I wasn’t expecting you to fly all the way out here to—”

  “Who’s the client?”

  Cheng paused. He wasn’t sure how she was going to take this part. Of course, he didn’t know why the old man had asked him in the first place.

  Tenzin looked up. “Who’s the client, Cheng?”

  “Your father.”

  She looked as confused as he was.

  “I know,” he said. “For the life of me, I don’t know why he wouldn’t ask you directly. But he sent a messenger with the request, and after I read it my only thought was—”

  “Whatever he wants to find is at the bottom of the ocean and in your territory,” she said. “That’s why he asked you.”

  “Yes.”

  Tenzin no longer looked fragile. She lifted her head, and instead of anger or blind aggression, he saw cunning.

  “Send a messenger to my father,” she said. “Tell him we’re coming to Penglai.”

  “You are certainly welcome to visit that island of vipers, but I don’t want to go to Penglai.”

  Tenzin ignored him. “And get Jonathan. I need a tablet equipped with Nocht.” She put her head in her hands. “I’m going to have to call Ben… eventually.”

  The End

  Continue reading for a preview of

  The Devil and the Dancer: A Gavin and Chloe Novella

  Available for preorder today.

  For release March 12, 2019

  Preview: The Devil and the Dancer

  The letter was like a dozen others on the surface. It committed to nothing. It was a test.

  Of what, Gavin Wallace wasn’t certain.

  The writer of the letter corresponded with him regularly. They weren’t friends. They never would be. But their connection couldn’t be denied. It definitely could not be ignored.

  I am thinking about coming to New York City. Your introduction to the O’Brien would be most welcome. This is regarding a business matter, not a personal one.

  Vivian

  Gavin didn’t need to breathe. No physical compulsion demanded it. He was a wind vampire who didn’t need to breathe except to smell the air and to speak. He could hold his breath for as long as necessary and not feel the effects.

  So the sigh that left his lungs was entirely one of habit.

  Vivian.

  Was it truly a business matter or did she have an ulterior motive? It would be impossible to tell until he talked to her, but he suspected the latter, simply because Vivian always had an ulterior motive.

  A laugh made him look up and across the bar. The smile that touched his lips was as much a habit as the sigh that had come before. The smile, however, was far more recent.

  Watching Chloe Reardon talk to the bar patrons was one of his favorite pastimes. He pretended to do paperwork, sort through letters, or read a magazine while he surreptitiously observed her chatting with a regular, polishing glasses, or advising one of the younger servers.

  She was a woman who could enjoy talking to anyone. It was a skill Gavin had never developed, even at over a century of life. He was more likely to sit in a corner and look aloof, hoping his demeanor would frighten off anyone who didn’t already know him.

  It wasn’t the most advantageous attitude for a publican. And even after many years, dozens of properties, and millions in hidden accounts, it was still what Gavin considered himself. He was a barman, and he was a good one. Of course, part of the reason he was good was that he excelled at the one skill every publican needed.

  Gavin Wallace was a genius at reading people. He understood what they wanted, and he knew what to give them to get what he desired.

  Sometimes, all a human or an immortal needed was the right drink and the right ear. Blood or wine or whiskey. Gavin didn’t need to be Captain Sunshine to supply those. Other times, it was an introduction or an invitation. For vampires, it was often a safe place to meet a dangerous person.

  Gavin provided any or all of those things, and in exchange he received wealth, safety, and influence he wielded very, very judiciously.

  “Boss, you want another?” A server was standing at the edge of the table with a golden glass of whiskey on a tray.

  Gavin glanced up. “Thank you, Priscilla.”

  “No problem.” She set down the drink. “Let me know if you want something to eat. Raf is just about to shut down the kitchen.” Gavin looked over to the bar as he raised his glass and sipped the unlabeled scotch he kept in a small cupboard. It was from his own distillery, but it wasn’t in his nature to advertise he owned it.

  Chloe caught his gaze and offered him a quick wink before she returned her attention to the human across the counter.

  And what do you need, Chloe Reardon?

  Space.

  And time.

  Damn my luck.

  She laughed at something the customer said. It was an older man, a stage manager for one of the larger off-Broadway theaters, if Gavin’s memory served him correctly. Gavin didn’t know how the man knew Chloe, but familiarly radiated between the two. She reached for the bottle of Jim Beam without the customer asking, filled his glass before she read another order and shook two gin cocktails, all the while nodding while the older man told a story.

  She’d been working for him over a year. She was a gold star employee, the kind immortals valued above the common swarm of humanity. She was trustworthy and discreet. She was independent and considerate. Smart, quick, and flexible. Aware of the dangers of the vampire world without being paralyzed by fear.

  Chloe was also a brilliant and bright young woman. A gifted artist and a good friend. She was wise and funny, empathetic and loyal.

  Chloe Reardon was everything that made Gavin feel like living again, but for the first time in one hundred twenty years, he found something he couldn’t win in trade.

  He couldn’t buy her.

  He couldn’t trade for her.

  He wanted to seduce her—fucking hell, he wanted to seduce her.

  But more, he wanted her to be his. Of her own choice. He wanted her to come to him, surrender, and throw her lot into the darkness with Gavin.

  In the year since they’d met, her surrender had become his singular desire.

  But it had to be her own.

  So he played the patient suitor. He took her to shows and dinners and parties. He gave her a safe room in his home. Ever the gentleman, he demanded nothing, but made it clear she could take anything she wanted.

  Gavin was starting to believe they would never move past the strange neutral zone they existed in. The thought made him edgy. He was a patient predator, but he needed an end in sight. He needed to make her… just a little uncomfortable.

  It was a risk, but one that he was comfortable taking. After all, Gavin Wallace was a genius at knowing what people needed. And though he knew Chloe needed time and space, he fervently believed she also needed something else.

  She needed him.

  She felt Gavin’s eyes on her back as they walked from the pub to the corner where Gavin had a car waiting, and Chloe would be lying if the idea didn’t put just a little more sway in her hips. In the year since they’d met, the idea of his eyes on her had become welcome. Enticing instead of intimidating.

  “Your rehearsal is at what time tomorrow?” Gavin’s right hand came to the small of her back. His left reached for the messenger bag she carried, which he slipped off her shoulder and slung over his.

  “Eleven. I can carry that, you know.”

  “But why no
t let me?” He brushed a kiss across her temple as he walked beside her. “Good. You can get six hours in tonight and take a nap in the afternoon.”

  “Is Veronica working tomorrow?”

  “I believe so, but you know she won’t bother you unless you need something.”

  Veronica was Gavin’s house manager, his day person, and an utter and complete professional. Chloe found her competence a tad intimidating, even if Veronica was polite at all times.

  All of Gavin’s people were professionals, from Veronica to the security crew she’d met, his business manager to his sommelier. They were all professionals. Gavin surrounded himself with professionals.

  If it wasn’t for her, Ben, and Tenzin, Chloe wondered if he’d interact with anyone he didn’t employ.

  “Did you see the invitation from Cormac?” Chloe asked.

  “I did.”

  She watched him from the corner of her eye. “Did anything seem strange about it to you?”

  The corner of his mouth turned up. “No.”

  “It was addressed to both of us.”

  His fingers curled into her back. “Because I believe he wants both of us to attend the reception.”

  “It was addressed to both of us at your address.”

  He paused and nudged her to stand in front of him, pressing her closer. “Is that a problem?”

  “I…” Was it? It seemed like everyone knew she stayed with Gavin regularly, and as far as Chloe knew, she was his only regular social companion. She was his plus one. And if she couldn’t attend something with him, he went alone. “It’s fine,” she whispered.

  He angled his head and bent down. “Good.” His lips moved softly over the arch of her cheek. “You smell lovely tonight.”

  “I spilled Knob Creek on my shirt.”

  “Aye, I know.” His mouth moved to the side and she felt his breath tickle the sensitive skin under her ear. “I don’t mind a little southern flavor, Miss Reardon.”

  Chloe had learned that Gavin’s Scottish came out when he was angry—which happened rarely—or turned on, which happened regularly. Much of the time, Americans mistook him for British.

  He wasn’t. He’d made that very clear.

  “Shall I see if you’ve spilled any other spirits, lass?” His mouth moved to the other side of her neck. “Do I detect a bit of Cointreau here?” His tongue licked her skin and she gripped his shoulders. “So sweet.”

  She was going to melt into a puddle. “The car is waiting.”

  “Aye, I pay it to do that.”

  Her head spun at the low timbre of his voice.

  One day soon, Chloe Reardon.

  The memory of his furious kiss a year ago hadn’t become any less potent with time.

  Gavin took one more long breath at her neck before he pulled away, put his arm around her, and kept walking. “The reception on Friday sounds like a complete bore. If you don’t want to go, I’ll make our excuses to Cormac.”

  “It’s fine.” She cleared her throat and tried to focus on walking toward the waiting car without her knees buckling. “The artist sounds interesting.”

  “If you want to go, we’ll go. You won’t be the only human there.” He opened the door and ushered her inside.

  “Oh. That’ll be nice.” She settled in and buckled her car seat just as the driver pulled into the sparse middle of the night traffic. Chloe felt the day catch up with her. She leaned into the plush sedan seat and closed her eyes. She felt Gavin shift beside her, his electric presence filling her senses, even as she drifted with exhaustion.

  When she’d first left her abusive ex and moved in with her friend Ben and his vampire partner, Tenzin, she’d had no idea that vampires existed. She’d always known Ben’s family was a little strange, but in the past year, she’d become ever more immersed in the immortal world. She knew Ben had mixed feelings about it, but Chloe walked in with her eyes open.

  After all, while vampires could be horrible, so could human beings. She knew that first hand. On balance, she’d had more compassion and patience from the vampires in her life than most of the humans. Ben’s aunt and uncle made her feel like part of their family. Tenzin was one of the oddest friends she’d ever made. She was also one of the most loyal.

  And Gavin?

  She didn’t know what she was to Gavin, but it was something. She’d worked for him over a year, following him from his first New York pub, The Bat and Barrel, to his newest venture in Hell’s Kitchen, the Dancing Bear. It was an easy job made easier by the fact that everyone at the bar assumed that she was in a relationship with the boss, so no one messed with her.

  Which she was. They had a relationship. She wasn’t sure exactly what that relationship was, but it was a relationship.

  Chloe didn’t care that everyone assumed she was sleeping with Gavin. They had every reason to assume it, even though she had her own room at his house. She stayed at his place on nights when she had early rehearsal the next day or just needed a break from the blistering chemistry growing between Ben and Tenzin at their loft.

  He was a picture of patience, but he had his limits. She didn’t push him and he didn’t push her.

  Someone needs to push someone soon, her libido shouted. This is getting ridiculous.

  Ridiculous maybe. But also safe.

  Chloe liked safety. She liked knowing what to expect. She’d spent years with Tom never knowing when the next blow would come or what could precipitate the next argument. She’d fallen in love with Tom partly because he was “edgy,” which to an overprotected girl from Southern California felt exciting and forbidden.

  She’d learned her lesson. Edgy wasn’t exciting. Edgy was painful. Edgy was dangerous. Edgy could get your bones broken, your body bruised, and your dreams crushed.

  What boggled her mind—what she still couldn’t make sense of—was why Gavin, who was exponentially more dangerous than her human ex could ever dream of being, had become her anchor of safety in the strange new immortal world she’d entered.

  She knew Gavin wasn’t safe, and there was no way he wasn’t dangerous.

  “A good man would stop pursuing you. A deserving one would wait. He’d be patient. I’m not a good man.”

  His words said one thing. His actions another.

  Which one was she supposed to believe when her heart was pulling her in one direction, and her head was pulling in the other?

  She was nearly sleeping when they reached his apartment. Gavin was tempted to lift her in his arms, but he knew she didn’t like it. She didn’t like being carted around, unless it was with a dance partner.

  You should learn to dance with her.

  He should do lots of things. He should be more empathetic to homeless people. He should donate more to the environment. And he should take the dance classes Chloe teased him about. But what vampire took ballroom dance classes? Gavin wasn’t the dancing type, even if he had a keen appreciation for the art form. He always went to Chloe’s shows and he’d bought season tickets to the ballet. He even watched the horrid reality show dancing she was addicted to on the television. Mostly, he appreciated watching Chloe dance around the room he’d had quietly retrofitted for her.

  “Wow! I can’t believe your apartment came with a gym like this.”

  “I know. I was shocked myself. Not sure what I’ll do with the space, but you’re welcome to use it while you’re here.”

  He’d had the gym renovated with mirrors, a wooden floor, and a practice barre two months after they’d met. It had taken less than a week when the right money was thrown at the project.

  It had been an impulse decision. Gavin didn’t usually get impulsive about humans. So when he felt the urge, he indulged it. Luckily, it had garnered many hours of pleasure for both Chloe and himself. Chloe because she liked to dance. Gavin because he liked to watch her.

  He leaned across the back seat and touched her cheek. “Home, dove.”

  She sighed and leaned toward him. “Huh?”

  “We’re home.” He ran a fing
er down her cheek and slung her messenger bag over his shoulder. “Good lord, woman, what do you keep in this thing?”

  Her eyes were still closed. “Contact lens stuff. Glasses. Change of clothes. Leggings. Shoes.”

  “When are you going to start leaving things here? You have a closet bigger than most East Village apartments.”

  She sighed and opened her eyes. “Pushy.”

  Gavin shook his head and opened his car door, waiting outside for her to wake up and join him. The driver sat idling and silent while Gavin waited with a clenched jaw.

  Pushy? For fuck’s sake, he was anything but pushy. If he was pushy, she’d have been in his bed months ago. If he was pushy, Chloe Reardon would be in his thrall.

  You don’t want that.

  Chloe got out of the car and walked around to him. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “So you’re saying that”—she stood in front of him as the car pulled away—“but your tone says you’re pissed off at me.”

  Gavin walked toward the elevator. “You’re tired. I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

  Chloe followed him. “I shouldn’t have called you pushy. You’re not pushy. You’re like… the opposite of pushy.”

  He pressed the button to call the elevator and felt the air stir across his skin. He needed a nice long flight tonight. Needed the wind across his skin. Needed—

  Chloe nudged his arm out of the way, slid her hand across his back and into the rear pocket of his trousers.

  Gavin looked down in surprise. “Miss Reardon, you have your hand on my arse.”

  The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Are you complaining?”

  “I don’t know,” he muttered. “You’re being a bit pushy.”

  Her laugh was punctuated by a small snort and Gavin broke into a smile. She started to slide her hand out of his pocket, but he grabbed it and kept it exactly where she’d put it.

  “Are you planning to keep that there all the way up to the penthouse?”

  “Are you worried someone has seen you stake your claim? It’s three in the morning; I think we have the elevator to ourselves.”