‘And the sword is to sever your tie with Rosa,’ Malik continued, all trace of amusement gone now, ‘should she attempt to reactivate the spell you share.’

Shit.I rocked back on my heels at this mini-bombshell. Rosa was a vampire, and the spell we shared linked us together magically. It had allowed me to unwittingly borrow her body whenever I’d used it— unwittingly, because I’d thought the spell was a bespoke Glamour spell, one I’d used as a disguise on my ‘faeling rescue missions’. It had turned out to be much more. Vamps’ souls are magically bound to their bodies as part of the Gift—hence their near-immortality—and it usually takes the removal of the heart or head, or total destruction of the body (usually by fire or daylight, or a combination, depending on how old the vamp is) to kill them and release the soul (which then goes straight to Hell, or its equivalent, according to most human religions; personally, I wouldn’t want to guess). But the spell had trapped Rosa’s soul, leaving her body functioning but vacant. When I’d found out the truth, I’d resolved never to use the spell again. And then Rosa had been lost in the Thames at Hallowe’en, and the spell tattoo on my body had gradually faded until it was now almost gone. I’d assumed she was too.

Worry tied a knot in my gut. ‘Are you saying she could come back?’

‘No, not after this length of time,’ he said. ‘The sword is a precaution only, in case she was found and her soul somehow restored.’ He studied the water a hundred and forty-odd feet below us, and a tendril of his grief, twisted with guilt and anger, soured my own euphoric relief. The emotions felt like mesma, but he didn’t seem to be projecting them intentionally; it was more as if I was picking up an echo. It wasn’t something I’d experienced before. I shivered and hugged myself, uneasy. Was it part of the whole conscious dream thing? But I didn’t ask, not wanting to intrude.

Finally, the emotional echo died and I moved to him and touched his arm gently. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. And I was, for him, not for her. He’d loved Rosa; he’d been the one to give her the Gift. But Rosa was better off gone. I’d inadvertently lived some of her thoughts, her memories and desires, both as a human and a vamp—it wasn’t an experience I ever wanted to repeat.

He turned and looked at my hand, staring at it, apparently uncomprehendingly, for a moment, then raised his eyes to meet mine. They were opaque and unreadable. ‘Rosa truly died a long time ago,’ he said with no inflection in his voice. ‘Now her soul will be at peace.’

‘Losing someone you love is—’ My throat closed. I lifted my hand to Grace’s pentacle, but in a movement almost too fast to see, he caught my hand and held it. ‘Thank you …’ He paused, then continued, ‘Thank you for your sympathy, Genevieve.’

I nodded. ‘You’re welcome.’

He raised my hand and pressed a kiss to my fingers. A spark of magic ignited, like a golden ember from a smouldering fire, as his lips graced my skin. My pulse leapt and my grief disappeared as my body flooded with anticipation and desire. I swallowed, tasting the sweetness of Turkish Delight, and heat curled inside me. His pale fingers gripped mine, the crushing pain muting to pleasure as his eyes darkened and filled with predatory speculation, and something else I couldn’t name. My clothes felt too hot and too tight, my breasts heavy, my nipples aching as they pushed against the thin T-shirt. An insistent need throbbed between my legs, and at the curve of my neck where he’d once bitten me.

He lifted his head, scenting me, his pupils incandescent with fiery hunger, and fear slid adrenalin into my veins, hyping the lust already lacing my blood. I froze, willing my errant pulse to slow, and concentrated on not wresting my hand from his hold. It might be a dream, but it felt real enough, and he was still a vamp. You don’t struggle with vamps, it gets them too excited. And right now I was excited enough for both of us.

We stood like statues on the high walkway, the rays of the dying sun turning us golden, and the silence and tension coiled between us until I wanted to scream, to lash out at him— To offer him my body and my throat.

Instead I fell back on my childhood training and counted: one elephant, two elephants—

His lips drew back and I stared, transfixed, at his sharp canine fangs. His two needle-like venom incisors were still retracted, which was good, wasn’t it? Donating blood was one thing, getting a venom hit at the same time? Well, if that happened I’d be falling a long, long, lo-ooong way off the wagon. And the last thing I’d want to do was struggle.

Five elephants …

Sweat trickled down my spine.

Seven ele …

I wanted desperately to drag my eyes from his fangs, to stop imagining the bliss as they pierced my flesh, the delicate pull of his mouth at my throat spiralling pure, dazzling ecstasy into my body …

Ten …

A tremor shuddered through him. He leaned closer, his dark spice scent eddying round me, his silky hair brushing my cheek. I angled my head, yielding. His lips pressed against the vulnerable spot under my jaw and my pulse jumped eagerly.

Thirteen …

He sighed and the tension slipped away like fast-melting ice, leaving me somehow desolate and bereft. His thumb brushed over his ring on my finger. ‘Why did you use this, Genevieve?’ The words were a bare whisper against my skin.

Really,really not for the reason you’re thinking.I shrugged, an infinitesimal movement of my shoulders. ‘I was getting bored with the entertainment provided by the police.’

Seventeen …

‘You were concerned that your phone call to Sanguine Lifestyles had not reached me?’ he asked softly, an odd, indecipherable note in his voice.

‘Yeah, that too.’

He pulled back, black eyes opaque as he studied me for a long moment. ‘No other reason?’

Like maybe I wanted to lose myself in your power? Feel your body join with mine? Not then.‘No.’

He released my hand.

I waited until I was sure my knees were going to hold me, then tucked my hands into my jeans pockets, out of temptation’s way. His or mine, I wasn’t sure. Talking with him was one thing; touching him looked like it blew my self-imposed ‘hands off’ policy into orbit. And what the hell had caused me to react like that to a simple kiss? It certainly hadn’t been anything he’d done—at least, I didn’t think so. I moved to lean against the criss-crossed steel-beam wall of the walkway, putting more space between us.

A deep frown lined his brow and he turned to stare out at the Thames. The sun had disappeared below the horizon and a parade of bright lights had sprung up along the river’s banks, reflecting oranges, reds and blues down into the water. I knew the walkway had its own lights, but here in Malik’s dreamscape it remained dark, shadows obscuring both its ends.

‘You have no need to worry, Genevieve,’ he said finally, speaking calmly, as if nothing had happened. ‘Your solicitor is at this moment speaking to a judge to facilitate your release.’

Back to business.I relaxed and took a breath. ‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘Details of your arrest have not been notified to the press,’ he continued. ‘You are apparently helping the police as an outside consultant with the investigation into the faeling found dead this morning.’

Interesting.‘If they’re covering up the arrest, then why’s it taking so long to spring me?

‘Detective Inspector Helen Crane is insisting that you know more than you are revealing to her. It has caused complications.’

‘Figured she’d use that against me,’ I muttered.

‘Do you know more, Genevieve?’

‘Yep, and I’d be overjoyed to tell her everything—except I can’t.’