B Positive by Jewel Killian

Twenty-Five

Six days until the incursion

I staredup at the ceiling in my white room.

I should have made him let me drink from him.

Or demanded that he explain why or how things were more complicated than simply doing the bonding steps in the right order.

Scent.

Blood exchange.

Mark.

Blood with sexy times.

I’d pretty much gotten over all the dumb stuff in my head and now that I knew my insane attraction to Julian wasn’t anything nefarious, I really wanted to get to the blood and sex bit.

That shit sounded amazing!

And…

I wanted to be strong enough to hold my own against Titus should the need arise. I wasn’t sure when I’d changed my mind about how involved I’d be with the incursions, just that I had. How could I not do everything I could for the made vampires of the cove, Jaxson’s pack, and my maker?

But, after he’d gotten me off last night, Julian needed to make preparations for hosting Titus and his party and had insisted that I needed more sleep.

I’d fought against it, of course, telling him I’d just slept for eight hours, but when he all but tucked me into bed, and I fell asleep almost the second my head touched the pillow, I considered that he might know a bit more about being a vampire than I did.

Shit. That’s what my whole problem was.

Not knowing enough about my own kind.

The plan had always been to get out of my mother’s house ASAP, get a generic business degree, and get some comfy job that didn’t require too much of my time but paid enough that my life was sorted.

Odette had changed all that.

She walked into the bar and I was ready to throw it all away for a taste of whatever she had.

Luckily, she’d demanded I finish out the three semesters I still had left as a condition of my turning. So, technically, I hadn’t abandoned my whole life plan.

But it definitely wasn’t going the way I’d expected.

I chucked the white down comforter off me and hopped out of bed with more spring in my step than usual.

A mind-erasing orgasm will do that to a lady.

After showering and putting on another halter and jean combo, which had now become not just my bartending uniform but also my safecracking uniform, I headed to the kitchen for some food.

Except sitting on a small table right outside my bedroom door was a covered dish and another Starbucks cup on a tray.

I brought the tray to the white desk in my room and went to work demolishing the egg sandwich and fried potatoes. As usual, with every bite I tasted the freshness of each ingredient, but even that sensory delicacy was overshadowed every so often by the urge to down the contents of that cup.

Every time I caught myself reaching for the cup, I stopped myself.

Julian had said my cravings were part of the mate bonding process, and that healer guy didn’t seem concerned about it, but I didn’t want to take any chance of sliding into those old patterns.

I worked hard to get over my bloodlust. I wasn’t going to risk it.

I fished my phone from my back pocket and shot Sunny a quick text.

I need to be careful how much blood I drink. Can you halve my portions please?

Sunny’s reply chimed instantly. Sure thing.

Satisfied I’d handled that part of the problem, I snatched up the gold ombre cup and headed to the bathroom where I poured exactly half down the toilet.

The moment the red liquid swirled in the water, my fangs descended as mouthwatering thirst blazed in me.

I downed the remaining half quickly, and when it was gone, I chucked the plastic cup at the bathroom mirror.

It cracked in two.

And there I was in duplicate, eyes full dark, fangs showing, and thread-like veins across my temples spiderwebbing down the sides of my face and along my neck.

I was a fucking bloodlust-y mess.

But I’d done this before. I could certainly do it again.

I splashed some cold water on my face, took a few deep breaths and got my shit together.

I just had to refocus my drive for blood into something productive like cracking safes, getting strong, and making sure the bond snapped into place. Once I got lost in the flow of my work, I’d forget how thirsty I was.

I only had six days until Titus’s incursion at the compound, and I wanted to know all the new safes by then, that way I could use the time between then and our incursion to fine-tune my skills.

Once my appearance resembled something close to normal, I headed down to the basement. I didn’t run into anyone else on my way. Not Sunny, no housekeepers, not even BDD who I hadn’t seen in days.

I’d have to remember to ask Julian if he was okay.

I guess the big lug had grown on me.

I flicked the switch on, the familiar hum of fluorescent tube lighting was a strange sort of friend down here, all alone. After skimming the plans once more, I headed to the next safe down the line: Ricardo.

I’d already named him after reading through his manual last night. He was smooth and sleek and too pretty, with his straight lines and minimal design. But he was also what I liked to call a sleeper. One miscalculated move and Ricardo would blow up in your face like a sleeper agent in the movies who’d just heard their wake code.

I rubbed my palms together and smoothed them down his front panel, stopping just before the old-fashioned turnstile wheel.

“Tricky, tricky, Ricardo. You look like an old-style safe, but you’re a modern gentleman layered with traps.”

I cycled through the numeric sequence and set off the first booby trap.

A light blinked on the control board I’d wired into him last night. I checked the wiring diagram I’d sketched, and sighed into my palm.

“Ricardo, you called the cops on me. That’s not nice.”

I jotted a note next to that bundle of wires on my diagram, detailing what triggering it did, and moved on to the next group of wires.

There were only a few things a stock safe could do: call the cops, set off a loud-ass alarm, lock the room, or slam down a piece of plexiglass or steel in front of the loot.

That was not to say a safe couldn’t be modified to do all sorts of shitty things. Julian was rumored to have hardwired stakes in the walls, but I was only concerned with what I could prepare for, figuring out which booby traps tripped which stock trigger.

Soon enough I lost myself in the work, and later Sunny’s telltale heels clacking on the metal steps told me it was time for lunch.

That I hadn’t heard her descending the stairs the last few days was only more proof of how hyper-focused I’d been. But now I knew I had to be more aware of how much blood I consumed, and so I kept a sliver of my attention on the room at all times.

“Afternoon, Eden,” Sunny chirped as she laid a tray down on the worktable.

“Afternoon,” I said, dusting my hands off on my jeans. Sunny wore a stunning fuchsia dress and I don’t know how she pulled it off with her coppery hair, but somehow, it looked amazing on her.

She’d paired it with nude heels. Chanel this time.

“I halved your blood as you asked.”

I nodded and moved on. The less blood talk the better. “Hey, next meal, why don’t you bring two trays and we can eat together? Or you could just send me a text and I can come upstairs.”

Sunny’s eyes brightened at my suggestion. I bet she ate her meals alone at her desk. If she had a desk.

“Sure. I assumed you wanted as much time as possible for all these safes. But you’re further along than even Julian expected, so I don’t see why not.”

Huh. So, Julian had a timeline for me, did he?

I rearranged the papers on the table to make a spot for her and pulled out another folding chair. “Is it weird if you stay while I eat this really quick? I just want to pick your brain a little.”

“Sure, not a problem,” she said and sat delicately in the metal chair.

I bit into the pumpernickel bread and corned beef, lips smacking as the mild and bitter bread mixed with the tangy, acidic notes of the meat.

God, I loved being a vampire.

“Okay, so Julian mentioned something about doing things a certain way so the bond will stick.”

Sunny’s frame stiffened. “Did he?”

“Yes. He wouldn’t let me, um—” How to phrase what happened—or didn’t happen—last night? “Let’s just say he’s not letting me reciprocate and I would very much like to fucking reciprocate.”

Sunny’s bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and I got that feeling she was hiding something again.

“What’s going on, Sun?”

Her cat-like gaze stayed fixed on the table. “You’ll have to talk to Julian about it, Eden.”

Except Julian had a way of making my whole brain fall out of my head. “I can’t seem to remember to ask important questions like that when he’s around. It’s like questions don’t matter when he’s close. But once he’s gone, questions are all I think about.”

Sunny nodded as if she understood. But how could she? Sunny had never been in the midst of a confusing-ass mate bond. “Maybe try writing them down?” she offered quietly.

“Actually,” I said, polishing off my sandwich and starting in on the tomato and cucumber salad. “That’s not a bad idea.” I found a piece of blank paper and jotted down the things I wanted to know.

1. Why did the healer say my bloodlust symptoms didn’t matter because

of the mate bond?

2. Did he really only let me keep the diamond so he could use my building as a hiding spot?

3. How do we make sure the mate bond sets? What happens if it doesn’t?

4. RECIPROCITY!!

I showed Sunny the list and her nose reddened as she read the last item.

“Is there anything else I should ask? Anything I don’t know?”

Sunny let out a long sigh. “I’m not sure, Eden. But I’ll let you know if I think of anything,” she lied. Sunny stood, straightened her hemline, and sauntered to the stairs. “I’ve got some witches to wrangle into submission before the incursion, but I’ll text you for dinner.”

Not wanting to put Sunny in an awkward position, I didn’t push the issue. I wanted to. God, did I want to fire question after question at her. But I knew she was walking a delicate line between doing as her boss, the king asked, and what I, the new mate wanted.