Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy #1)(52)

The Drake vampires nodded, and the decision was made despite my opposition.

But as long as I lived in Drake Hall, I had to do what the vampires decided, which is why I found myself standing outside the door of Killian’s office half an hour later, bearing a silvery tray weighted down with chilled blood packs.

I reluctantly knocked on the door while glaring at the blood packs. (If they tried to make me do this again, I was going to give him all the nearly expired pouches!)

“Enter.”

I rolled my shoulders back and bumped the door open. “Celestina and the others sent me up with your dinner.”

Killian didn’t look up from the document he was reading. Rather, he gestured for me to step inside.

I tiptoed in, but didn’t bother hiding my inspection of the place.

The room was all Killian—incredibly, or perhaps restrictively, tidy with every book in place and every paper sorted into a folder or stand. Bookshelves austerely covered the walls, filled with what looked like some priceless volumes of magical books, but one of the gorgeous shelves also held a flatscreen TV, a tablet, and a laptop. It created a sort of jarring combination of history and modern tech, but that’s really what Killian was, and why he was so dangerous.

Killian finally looked up from his paper. “Am I to assume there is some method behind my underlings sending you here?”

I set the tray on his impersonally bare desk. “Not one I understand. They seemed to think you need to be entertained—though I’m not sure what they expect me to do.”

Up went the edges of Killian’s lips in that mocking almost-a-smile. “Given your unique personality, to be amusing all I imagine you have to do is exist.”

I pressed my lips together, making them thin. “It’s not like I go around doing stupid things.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s your propensity to hiss and puff up like a startled kitten when prodded.”

“I still don’t understand why you insist on training me if you think I’m so harmless.”

“Even when properly trained to the point of being deadly you will still resemble a troubled kitten or puppy,” Killian said. “It is due to your nature rather than your fighting abilities.”

I turned to study Killian’s collection of technology, but I watched out of the corner of my eye as he snagged a blood pack from the tray.

He stabbed the pack with a pointed straw, then sucked it straight from the pouch.

Killian leaned back in his hair, his eyes at half mast, the straw fixed at the corner of his mouth, and he looked irritatingly like a model in an advertisement, which wasn’t fair. I’d much prefer he linger in dark corners of the room and look like he was planning something evil than showing off his appearance. He was only stunning because it gave vampires a natural advantage over easily swayed humans who would most likely be stunned at their smile.

Unfortunately, I stared too long with my eyes flicked back in an unnatural position, and he caught me staring.

“What is it?” Killian asked.

“Nothing.” I resolutely stared at the TV screen.

Killian darkly chuckled. His chair creaked when he stood, and though I didn’t hear his feet on the beautiful maroon carpet, I could feel his presence behind me. Nothing could hide such a deadly aura.

“I don’t believe you.” He was so close his presence loomed behind me, and I could see in the TV reflection he was half leaning over me. “Are you disgusted? Frightened?”

I paused for a moment and wondered if he was right. Was I scared?

My heart wasn’t pounding any faster than usual even though he was right behind me. But I’m pretty sure my sense of danger was starting to go screwy after living with all these vampires. I still watched Killian with the same kind of intensity I would give a tiger—respect, distance, and the wish that there was a glass wall between us.

I turned around to face him, and couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled past my lips.

Killian had appeared dangerously attractive leaning back in his chair with his blood. But now, standing above me, pouch in hand, he more closely resembled a giant kid sucking on a juice pack.

“Enjoying your juice box?” I asked through another snort of laughter.

Killian raised an eyebrow—I thought in amusement. “It is odd that most people would be disgusted by the contents of the pouch, but you laugh at it.”

I coughed, getting myself under control again. “You’re a vampire. What else are you supposed to drink? Besides, you didn’t kill anyone to get it, the delivery service dropped it off, and I know they pay their blood donors well.”

Killian studied me as he drained his first pouch. He backed up—keeping his eyes on me—and tossed the pouch in the trash before reaching for a new one. “You are one of those awful people who follows a moral code.”

“Everyone follows a moral code.”

“No, everyone is too busy trying to figure out what shades of gray they can get away with manipulating or pulling before they get in trouble,” he scoffed.

“That might be how vampires are, but wizards aren’t like that.”

“Yes, I imagine that’s true given the way wizard Houses are just lining the driveway, seeking to be your political allies,” he dryly said.

I dropped my eyes at the reminder.

“You are a rarity.” Killian leaned against the edge of his desk. “A supernatural who actually does as they say. It makes you both weak and incredibly powerful at the same time. That’s why you are dangerous. And once you have your magic, I imagine that’s going to be more obvious.”