Blood Ties Bundle: Blood Ties Book One: The Turning / Blood Ties Book Two: Possession / Blood Ties Book Three: Ashes to Ashes / Blood Ties Book Four: All Souls' Night. Jennifer Armintrout

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      He didn’t look away. “He’s an idiot.” Nathan said the words as though he actually believed them. And his eyes showed the truth of it.

      I’d forgotten what it was like to feel valued by another person. It was nice, even if I didn’t quite understand what had prompted such an emotional reaction from Nathan. Still, it was a feeling I wasn’t used to. I cleared my throat. “Did you ever want kids?”

      He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his response was carefully measured, as if he’d calculated how much to tell without giving anything away. “Yes, I did. Having children of my own wasn’t in the cards for me, either.”

      “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Behind his mask of forced cheerfulness, his eyes were hollow and tired, and the agony I saw in them caused my heart to ache.

      As quickly as I’d glimpsed his inner sadness, it disappeared behind Nathan’s granite wall of self-control. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I have Ziggy. I always did want a son.”

      It was the first time he’d acknowledged his true feelings for the kid. The look on Nathan’s face told me he wasn’t used to revealing so much. The angry panic that flashed across his features in the next instant told me exactly why. I recognized the expression because I’d seen it staring back at me from my own reflection too often to count.

      Nathan truly believed that if he cared about something, it would eventually be taken from him.

      I turned away. Unfortunately, I looked right into the vomit-splashed toilet bowl. “If I didn’t know you were a vampire, I’d say you had an upper G.I. bleed. But I’m going to assume that was your dinner.”

      Nathan stood, still a bit wobbly, and rinsed his mouth under the tap before answering. “Tasted fine on the way down. Usually stale blood tastes like nail polish remover.”

      “You’re familiar with nail polish remover? Did they have that in the thirties?” I dropped the toilet lid and flushed. I wasn’t going to tell him about the antidote, or how I’d gotten it.

      “Of course they did. And I had a girlfriend in the eighties. It was about twenty years ago, but you don’t forget that chemical stench,” he asserted, suddenly defensive.

      “That still doesn’t explain how you know what it tastes like. But I think you’re right, you must have gotten sick from the blood. Wait about half an hour before you drink anything else, to make sure you don’t barf it all up again.”

      Nathan laughed. “Barf? Is that a technical term?” He eyed himself in the mirror, and before I knew what he was doing, whipped his T-shirt over his head. “What did she hit me with?”

      “A spell, or something.” I knew I should be examining him with a clinical eye, but it was hard to do that when he was so…half-naked. My fingers flexed, itching to touch the chiseled ridges of his chest. I cleared my throat and looked away. “I guess.”

      “Whatever it was, it didn’t leave a mark.” He turned his head and twisted his shoulders to examine his back in the mirror, and my mouth went dry as the muscles of his torso moved beneath his skin.

      In the living room, the apartment door opened and slammed shut, followed by the heavy fall of combat boots against the floor. “You guys aren’t doing it, are you?”

      Nathan gave an exasperated sigh. “Ziggy, manners!”

      The young man appeared in the doorway, dark circles around his eyes. “I’m supposed to give you this.” He handed Nathan a card with a police-shield emblem printed beside a name and phone number. “The cop said the books and merchandise are trashed. And they want the owner of the building to get in touch with them because they can’t seem to locate him.”

      “The owner?” I looked from Ziggy to Nathan. “I guess I thought you owned the building.”

      “I do.” Nathan slipped the card into his jeans pocket. “I’ll call them later.”

      Ziggy let out a huge yawn. “I’m going to bed. I’ve got a big test tomorrow and I don’t want to be involved in any other vampire shit today, got it?”

      “Got it,” Nathan replied with a smirk. “But I’m gonna need your help in the shop later tonight to find what we can salvage.”

      “Can do.” Ziggy shot me a sharp and knowing look. “You feeling okay now, Nate?”

      “Yeah, I must have grabbed a stale bag, gotten a little food poisoning.”

      His expression hard, Ziggy stared at me. “Yeah, that must be it. I mean, it couldn’t have been anything else.”

      But he didn’t mention the trip to Cyrus’s place. I hoped he’d have the sense not to say anything. When I left, he’d believe I’d gone of my own accord. I would make him believe it.

      Ziggy bade us good-night and retreated to his room. As soon as his door closed, loud rock music blasted away.

      “When he gets moody like this, I just leave him alone.” Nathan yawned and strolled into his bedroom. I followed him, not sure why. His upper-torso nakedness probably had something to do with it as he moved like an R-rated pied piper.

      He opened his dresser and pulled out a T-shirt. Gray, like his eyes, I thought as I watched him pull it over his head. No. I didn’t need to remember his eyes, or any other part of him for that matter.

      Except for his beating heart. I could take some solace in the fact I’d added another saved life to my tally.

      I tried not to think of the price that would cost me. “Nathan, who’s Nolen Galbraith?”

      He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing strands that had gotten mussed from the shirt. “That would be me. Actually, I should say that used to be me. Where did you hear that name?”

      “It was on the fax from the Movement. And it’s what Cyrus called you.” I placed my hands on my hips. “He said he didn’t sire you.”

      Giving me a crooked smile, he sat on the end of the bed. “Why all the questions?”

      Because I just traded my life for yours. “You told me your name was Nathan Grant, and you told me Cyrus was your sire. Why did you lie?”

      “I didn’t lie.” He reached into his back pocket and removed his wallet. “Look.”

      His driver’s license, besides having a criminally unfair good picture, bore the name Nathan Grant.

      “I have to change my identity every couple of decades, remember? I like to think I can pass for forty before I have to move again.” He took his wallet back and tossed it on the dresser.

      I shook my head in frustration. “But what about Cyrus? You said the same blood in my veins flows through yours. But he said he didn’t sire you.”

      “He didn’t. Our blood is connected because the same vampire who sired Cyrus sired me.” Nathan cleared his throat. “I don’t normally talk about it.”

      “Well, make an exception,” I snapped, and instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry. I’m just really tired, and all of this still freaks me out. Does it ever СКАЧАТЬ