Saved by Blood (The Vampires' Fae Book 1)

by Sadie Moss

  What was it with these men? How did they manage to break down every defense, every barrier I had?

  Because as crazy as the idea was, I was seriously considering taking him up on his offer.

  But that’s not me.

  Is it?

  Jerrett must’ve read my expression again and seen the imminent existential breakdown as I grappled with this new, wilder side of myself. He tapped me gently under the chin before turning me back around to face the bowl of frosting I’d completely forgotten about.

  “Back to working your magic, sweetheart. I’m still hungry.”

  I gratefully took the escape he offered me, digging a butter knife into the frosting and slathering it on a cupcake with shaking hands. The brothers didn’t have any pastry piping equipment, but the simple act of spreading frosting into whorls and peaks calmed my frayed nerves. My hand was steadier when I turned back to Jerrett and offered it to him.

  He brushed his hair out of his eyes then took it, peeling the wrapper down on one side.

  I watched him anxiously, chewing on my lower lip. Kyle had always been really critical of my baking. He’d claimed his harsh critiques were all in the name of helping me improve, but after a while, I’d stopped offering him any of my creations because I didn’t want to be torn down every time I did. Since then, plenty of strangers had told me they loved my desserts, but worry still churned in my stomach as Jerrett took his first bite.

  His mouth closed, but he didn’t chew. His eyes widened.

  Worry turned to panic, and I ran through the recipe in my head. Had I left out some critical ingredient by mistake?

  “I’m sorry. You don’t have to finish it if it isn’t good. Maybe I—”

  “Holy shit! Fuck me! This is un-fucking-believable.”

  His words were muffled by the food in his mouth, but the awe in his voice was unmistakable. He took another big bite, his blue eyes gleaming. A tiny bit of frosting hung on his upper lip, and I was struck by the sudden urge to lick it off.

  I watched him devour the whole cupcake. It was probably incredibly rude to stare at someone while they ate, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of him enjoying my creation.

  I’d made that look appear on his face.

  When he finished, he set the empty wrapper on the counter and looked up at me, the lock of black hair falling over his eyes again. “Well, that settles it. You can’t ever leave us now. Fucking good goddamn, Will, that was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten!”

  I blushed, more thrilled by his exuberant compliment than I should’ve allowed myself to be.

  “Well, I don’t have plans to leave anytime soon. At least not until we figure out what those shades are after and how to stop them.”

  Jerrett’s expression darkened. He crossed the kitchen and sank onto a stool at the bar. “Yeah. About that. According to a werewolf friend of ours, there’ve been shade attacks in other cities on the east coast over the past several weeks. He didn’t have a ton of details, but this guy is well connected in the supernatural community. He’d know.”

  My brow furrowed. I spread frosting on two more cupcakes, then brought them over to the bar with me, settling onto a stool next to Jerrett and offering him one. “You think those attacks are related to the one on me?”

  “I’d bet anything they are. Shades aren’t all that common.”

  I took a small bite of my own cupcake, trying not to notice the way Jerrett’s piercing blue eyes tracked every movement of my lips. Hell, I’d ogled him while he ate, so I could hardly complain if he did the same to me. It did make keeping my mind on the current conversation a bit difficult though.

  Clearing my throat, I forced my thoughts back to the problem at hand. “Have the shades been attacking humans?”

  “Both. A mix of humans and supernaturals. He said at least one victim had runes carved into them like you, but I don’t know if they all did.”

  A chill worked its way down my spine. Jesus. That was horrific.

  “What exactly are these things?” I asked.

  Jerrett pushed his hair out of his eyes. “That’s the problem. We don’t really know. The word ‘shade’ is pretty much a blanket term for any resurrected creature that can take physical form. They’re undead. But what these shades were when they were alive? That, we don’t know.”

  “But that’s an important piece of the puzzle?”

  “Yeah, probably. Once we know what they were, we’ll have a better idea how to fight them. And maybe it’ll help us figure out what they’re after too. Then we’ll just need you to tell us where they are.”

  My stomach flipped. Right. No pressure.

  Jerrett leaned back, starting in on his second cupcake. After a few bites, he held the half-eaten confection out in front of him, looking at it almost wonderingly. “Good. Fucking. Lord. That might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  “Better than blood?” I asked teasingly.

  He raised a pierced brow, his expression wicked in the dim light. “Depends whose blood it is, sweetheart.”

  Warmth flooded my veins again. I was starting to feel like a hormonal teenager with a crush… or three.

  To distract him, and myself, I blurted, “Can I ask you a question?”

  He set the cupcake down and crossed his arms over his muscled chest. “Sure, Will. Shoot.”

  “Why do you guys only drink from blood bags? I mean, I’m sure they’re better than nothing, but… well, you know. They’re…”

  “They’re not the same,” he finished for me.

  “No. I mean, I’ve never had fresh blood. But even I can tell it’s not the same. Why is that all you drink? It’s not like you’d have to kill someone to drink their blood, right?” A flush crept up my cheeks. “According to Google, some people might be pretty into that. They said it feels really good.”

  Jerrett nodded. He took his time answering me, his gaze never leaving my face.

  “You’re not wrong. Most vampires prefer fresh human blood. You’ll know by now that the bagged shit is just that. Shit. But it’s good enough. It keeps us going, right?”

  I ducked my head thoughtfully. “Yeah, it does.”

  “And we can still enjoy human food. Even if it doesn’t quite satisfy the body, it satisfies the mind. Don’t ever underestimate the importance of that.” His eyes lit suddenly. “Hey, can you make tiramisu sometime? I haven’t had that in fucking forever.”

  “Sure. You probably have all the ingredients on hand. Yuliya keeps your pantry insanely well-stocked.”

  Jerrett grinned. “She did that for you, sweetheart. Sol told her you like to bake, and she might’ve gone a little overboard conjuring things.”

  A laugh burst from me. “Holy shit! I guess that makes more sense than you guys owning cupcake tins.” Then I swallowed. “Jerrett? You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why don’t you drink fresh blood?”

  “Because of Mal.”

  His jaw snapped shut the moment the words were out of his mouth, like he wished he hadn’t spoken.

  I bit my lip. “Malcolm doesn’t want you drinking blood? Why?”

  Jerrett eased out a breath, dipping his finger into the frosting on his cupcake and licking it off.

  “That’s his story to tell, Will, not mine. I hope he does tell you someday. It’ll help you understand why he is the way he is.”

  “You mean grouchy all the time?”

  “Ha! Some might call it stoic, but yeah. Grouchy works too. He’s not mad at you, Will. Ever. When he gets like that, it’s because he’s mad at himself.”

  “Mad at himself for what?”

  Jerrett rubbed the back of his neck, his palm covering the tattoo that ran along one side. “He made a mistake a long time ago that I don’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for. He’ll probably spend the rest of his life trying to atone for it.”

  Pity and unease twisted my stomach into a knot. The rest of his life? That could be hundreds, thousands of yea
rs. What could he possibly have done that would require that much penance?

  I opened my mouth to ask another question, but Jerrett shook his head. “I can’t tell you more, Will. Mal is my brother, and I respect the fuck out of him. He’s too hard on himself, and I wish he could see that. But I’m not gonna go around spilling his secrets.”

  My jaw eased shut. The teasing gleam still flickered in Jerrett’s blue eyes, but his expression was serious. The way he stood by his brother so adamantly made warmth bloom in my chest—both for the man in front of me and for Mal.

  “I understand.” I leaned back, nodding. “Thanks for talking, Jerrett. It means a lot.”

  His playful demeanor returned, and he scooped the remaining half-cupcake off the bar. “Sweetheart, anytime. And you throw in delicious shit like this on top of the pleasure of your company? Well, you’re never gonna get rid of me now.”

  A ripple of pleasure washed over me. He said the words as lightly and easily as anything, but he couldn’t know how much they meant to me. It’d been so long since I’d been flirted with, appreciated, or wanted. It made me feel special—maybe not to the whole world, but to a blue-eyed vampire rock star with a wicked tongue and a big heart.

  And that was enough for me.

  I grinned. “That’s okay. I’m not in any hurry to get rid of—”

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs reached my ears, and I broke off, cocking my head. Jerrett heard it too and was on his feet before Sol and Malcolm burst into the room.

  “What is it?”

  Jerrett’s voice was sharp, the hunter in him rising to the surface.

  Sol inhaled deeply, and I blushed at the hunger that swept over his face at the scent of my cupcakes. I kind of wanted to sit around feeding these guys for days, just watching the expressions on their faces while they ate my creations.

  Then again, maybe there was a better way to put that sexy, hungry look on his face.

  “Thomas just called,” Malcolm answered, ripping me from my thoughts. “There’s a problem in the subway lines. Goblins have been getting out of control, attacking commuters and disrupting trains.”

  23

  Willow

  “Ah, fuck.” Jerrett grimaced. “Give me two minutes.”

  He darted from the room, and I looked between Malcolm and Sol. The dark, broad-shouldered vampire was still refusing to meet my gaze, so I focused on his brother.

  “What does that mean? Why did this Thomas guy call you?”

  “Thomas is a werewolf friend of ours. He trades in information and has his ear to the ground in most supernatural circles. He helps us keep an eye out for unusual activity,” Sol answered.

  The timer on the oven beeped, and I jumped. I’d completely forgotten about my second batch of cupcakes. I grabbed the oven mitt off the counter and pulled the tin out, setting it on the wire rack before turning back to the men.

  “And this—the goblins attacking—is unusual?”

  Malcolm nodded, looking agitated. “Yes. Goblins are about the most harmless creatures that exist in our world. If they’re attacking people, something is very wrong.”

  “Could this have something to do with the shades? Are they back?”

  Sol’s lips quirked up on one side. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  I realized then that he and Malcolm were both dressed in tactical wear—the dark, breathable clothes they wore when they went out on a hunt. Jerrett must’ve run upstairs to get ready too.

  I licked my lips. “I want to come with you.”

  Malcolm’s brows shot up. “What? No. Absolutely—”

  “Get dressed.”

  Sol’s voice cut through Malcolm’s deep rumble like a hot knife through butter, and I hesitated. I’d never heard Sol disagree with Malcolm before. Though they were obviously a team, Malcolm was also clearly the leader.

  “Hurry. We need to leave soon,” Sol added.

  I broke out of my stasis and rushed from the kitchen, leaving the two headstrong brothers to work out their differences of opinion without me. Somehow, I felt confident Sol would win this one.

  In my bedroom, I threw on a dark t-shirt and stretchy, skin-hugging pants that let me move easily. I pulled my hair into a rough ponytail as I galloped back down the stairs.

  The three men waited in the kitchen, and as I’d suspected, Sol had been the one to get his way. Malcolm didn’t look pleased at all, but he didn’t object further. Instead, he turned and led us into what turned out to be a large attached garage. Several gleaming cars were parked in an orderly row.

  We all piled into a dark silver BMW, with Malcolm behind the wheel.

  It was only when the garage door rose, and the car began to back out of the garage that an obvious thought struck me.

  “Wait!” I was in the back with Sol, but I practically dived for the steering wheel. “The sun! Don’t—”

  “It’s all right, Willow tree.” Sol caught me, settling me back into my seat. “There’s a protection charm on the windows that absorbs the sun’s rays. It’s not an easy enchantment to come by, but we keep one of our cars spelled at all times in case of emergencies. We’ll be fine.”

  Just a few hours ago, I’d been thinking of how much I missed sunshine, but now my heart hammered against my ribs as Malcolm pulled out of the driveway.

  But my skin didn’t catch fire or even let off a puff of smoke.

  I didn’t feel the terribly agony of being burned alive.

  In fact, the interior of the car stayed dim, as if it were twilight inside this small metal box. Outside, I could see the world lit with sunshine, but none of it reached us.

  “Holy shit.” I peered out the window as we sped down the road.

  Sol chuckled. “Glad you like it.”

  It took us almost thirty minutes to reach our destination. Apparently, traffic in Manhattan moved just as slow for vampires as it did for everyone else.

  Malcolm pulled over under the shadow of a tall building on 96th Street. A large man with the hairiest forearms I’d ever seen loitered under the scaffolding set up in front of the building. When he saw us, he lifted his chin and walked over.

  The brothers slid out of the car. Sol extended a hand back to me as Malcolm conferred briefly with the new man—Thomas, I was guessing. A trickle of fear crawled down my spine as I stepped out onto the shadowy street. I was out of direct sunlight, but it still felt terrifying to be exposed like this. The air felt uncomfortably warm, and I had to assume that was due to ambient light from the sun.

  Malcolm handed his keys to Thomas, clapped him on the shoulder, then led us down the sidewalk a short distance.

  We passed over a subway grate, and Sol squeezed my hand. “Here.”

  Before I could ask what he meant, Jerrett and Malcolm disappeared into the shadows below the grate.

  My jaw dropped. “How did they...?”

  “It’s just like shadow walking. Let the shadows pull you in.”

  When he finished speaking, Sol too dissolved into the darkness of the tunnel below me. I clenched my jaw, my stomach roiling with nerves.

  Oh geez. Well, you were the one who asked to join them, Willow. Don’t make Sol look bad for vouching for you.

  Not giving myself any more time to dwell on the absolute weirdness of this, I took a small step forward, allowing the shadows below my feet to pull me in. I slipped through the grate as if it didn’t even exist, and a moment later, I found myself standing in the dark tunnel of the B train.

  We set off through the darkness, the noise of trains rumbling in the distance mixing with my heartbeat in my ears. When a train sped toward us on the tracks, its yellow headlights gleaming in the darkness, I almost peed my badass vampire pants. But Jerrett pulled me against the wall, and we sank into the shadows while the train roared past.

  After several more minutes of walking in silence, we reached a new tunnel that intersected ours. Malcolm veered into it. There were no tracks on the ground, and the walls were rough and uneven, as if they’d been carv
ed out by crude instruments.

  “What is this place?” I whispered.

  “Goblin tunnel.” Sol’s voice came from beside me, and his hand still gripped mine. The darkness was thicker here, almost impenetrable.

  “They made this?”

  “Yeah.” Jerrett’s voice floated back from up ahead. “They create offshoots from the main subway lines and live off rats and scraps. There’s enough junk tossed out down here to support a pretty big colony of goblins. Shit, if the health department knew, they’d probably give them an award for helping keep New York clean.”

  I chuckled at that. “So they’re like underground pigeons?”

  “Rats are underground pigeons,” Sol corrected. “Goblins are more like—” He broke off suddenly, sniffing the air. “Damn it. I smell shades. They were here.”

  “Shit. Come on!”

  Jerrett darted forward, and we followed, speeding through the tunnel as it twisted and turned beneath the streets of Manhattan.

  A few moments later, I could smell it too—the fetid scent of decay that always seemed to cling to the shades. Low, keening cries met my ears, chilling my blood. Lights came into view up ahead, and we slowed our steps.

  Dozens of small torches gave off a strange blue glow, illuminating a sea of round, stubby faces with gray-brown skin.

  Goblins.

  They stood about three feet tall, dressed in a mishmash of rags and garbage. Their blunt teeth were bared in snarls, and it looked like the ones in the front with torches were protecting others that filled the tunnel behind them.

  Malcolm held up his hands in a non-threatening gesture, though it was hard for someone as big and powerful as him to look anything but threatening.

  “We mean you no harm.”

  One of the goblins in front let out a stream of guttural sounds, shaking the torch clutched in his fist.

  I furrowed my brows. “What?”

  The leader repeated the sounds, his voice rising in pitch. Behind him, the wailing intensified. I peered through the crowd of goblins around him to the ones in the back. Several bodies lay unnaturally still on the ground. Dead? Or injured?