Blood Feud Page 57

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Lars?”

“This can wait,” Lars assured him, his voice cool, quiet.

“Montmartre can’t. You’l give us al away because you can never delay yourself a little gratification. The battle’s begun and his lieutenant is lecturing little girls. It doesn’t look good.” Greyhaven tensed his jaw until it looked as if it might crack.

Then he smiled at me. “Only a momentary reprieve, I assure you,” he said darkly. “Watch the doors,” he told the guards before storming out, the door slamming behind him and Lars.

“That was too damn close,” Logan muttered. “This is our only chance. Sounds like most of the Host are at the courts.” He stood up. The chains hung from the ceiling, not quite long enough for him to lower his arms. He tugged, then swung with his entire body weight. Nothing.

I stood as wel , inspected the locks on my manacles. “I might I stood as wel , inspected the locks on my manacles. “I might be able to pick these,” I said. “But I need a pin of some kind.” I was going to start wearing hair pins again just as soon as I got out of here.

We searched the room: fireplace utensils, cushions, lamps, a stack of magazines. Nothing useful.

“Are you wearing a bra?” Logan asked suddenly.

I frowned at him. “What?”

“A bra,” he repeated. “Are you wearing one?”


“Can you get it off?”

“I suppose so. But how is that going to help?”

“The underwire comes right out. You can use that.” I real y was beginning to like him more than I ought to.

I tried to maneuver my hands behind my back. My muscles screamed after a few minutes. I was undead, not boneless.

“I can’t reach,” I said final y.

“Turn around. Let me try.” He rol ed his eyes at my expression. “I’m not trying to cop a feel before I die, though the idea has merit.” He stretched, swore. “Can’t reach either. Stand on the chair.”

I climbed up onto the seat, trying not to feel ridiculous. His hands grazed my back.

“Hold stil ,” he said as if he was concentrating harder than he’d ever concentrated in his entire life. His vampire pheromones were suddenly stronger, flooding the room with the smel of anise and incense. It had no effect on me, of course, but it smel ed nice. He made quick work of the lacing on the back of my tunic, exposing my bare back. His fingertips were cool and gentle on my skin. He reached for the clasp, had it apart in seconds.

“You’re rather good at that,” I remarked dryly.

He pushed my tunic down over my shoulder to reach the strap. I felt warm suddenly, tingly. I had to remind myself we were locked up, chained, and about to be kil ed. I heard him swal ow. And then his mouth was on the back of my neck. He pressed a hot kiss there, searing through me.

Then he stepped back abruptly.

“Can you reach it now?” he asked hoarsely.

I nodded mutely and didn’t turn around. I couldn’t look at him just yet. I knew my face was red; my fingers trembled. My knees felt soft as I climbed off the chair. I reached into the armhole of my sleeveless tunic and pul ed the bra strap down and then did the same on the other side. A quick shimmy and the bra slid out, dangling from my hand. It was white lace, a gift from Magda. And for some reason having it out where Logan could see it like that made me blush harder.

I used my fangs to bite a hole into the fabric and then I slid the thin steel wire out of one of the cups. Logan was watching me intently, his cheekbones ruddy. I wasn’t the only one blushing over a scrap of lace. Somehow that made me feel better.

I inserted the end of the wire into the lock of the manacle on my right wrist and jiggled it gently, tilting my head to better hear the scrape of metal on metal. When I heard the delicate, barely audible snick, I smiled faintly. Another twist and the manacle opened. I slid my hand out and repeated the procedure on the opened. I slid my hand out and repeated the procedure on the other lock.

“Sweet,” he said. “You’l have to teach me that trick.” The guards were stil quiet on the other side of the door, but we didn’t have much time. I hurried over and picked the locks to free him as wel .

“Are you coming?” Logan grabbed Greyhaven’s discarded stake off the rug and then looked over his shoulder when I didn’t move. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Logan,” I answered calmly.

“Wel , I’m not,” he muttered. “We have to get the hel out of here.”

“He’s not after you, you have nothing to worry about.” He sucked in his breath, to express emotion rather than for need of oxygen. When he spoke, his voice was a little husky.

“I’m not worried about me.”

I didn’t know what to do with this concern, with the way he looked at me, as if I mattered. I needed to stay strong, focused, cold. I couldn’t afford to let him get in my way. I was too close now. I spent too long waiting for my chance.

And when Greyhaven came back in to kil me properly, I’d have that chance.

I couldn’t regret not having the opportunity to explore the connection I felt with Logan.

And I did feel it.

In a few short nights, he’d broken through some of my defenses, had made me long for things that were impossible.

He was a romantic, charming, and loving.

And convincing.

I knew if I said a single word about the way he made me feel he’d spare no quarter in convincing me that we had a chance.

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