Blood Kiss Read online

  I didn’t know what to say to that but I was saved by the airline hostess who was pushing a narrow cart down the aisle. She handed me a “breakfast pack” and tried to give one to Michael too, but he declined, asking for a bottle of water instead.

  Which reminded me that it had been a while since he’d had any blood. How long could he go without? He was a new vampire and they were usually eating machines for the first few months of their dark lives.

  Suddenly we had yet another reason to find holy water. I needed it to disinfect not only the Monsignor’s bite, but Michael’s as well the next time he fed from me.

  I thought of letting him bite me again—it would probably be best to let him drink from my throat. But all I could picture was his broad, muscular shoulders splitting my thighs wide as he knelt between my legs and bit me again on my slayer mark.

  A shiver of pure desire ran through me, erasing the ache of my muscles and the throbbing pain of the bite on my hand for a moment. God, was I actually looking forward to a vampire bite?

  What was wrong with me?

  And yet, though I tried to lecture myself about how wrong it was to want what I wanted, I couldn’t seem to stop wanting it—to stop wanting Michael.

  I was glad when the plane finally landed and we were able to get off. We went through customs and I had a moment of uncertainty when the agent looked extra long at my passport photo and then back at me but I kept myself from saying anything. Running off at the mouth is a sure sign of something to hide, as Uncle Harry used to say. In the end, she let me pass.

  We picked up the cheap suitcases I’d gotten at Walmart at the same time I’d gotten my snazzy new threads. I would rather have not checked any luggage at all but I couldn’t exactly take my weapons on the plane—as much as I would have liked to.

  I took a quick look inside to make certain everything was there—they always go through your luggage really thoroughly when you’re carrying any kind of weapons in it—and then wheeled the cheap suitcase over to the automated ticket machine to get some train tickets.

  “Wait, what about finding a church and some holy water?” Michael protested as I began perusing the confusing train schedule and plotting the best way to get to Wales. To be honest, there is no good way. We had flown into Gatwick International which is a little bit less crowded than Heathrow but still no picnic to navigate.

  “Holy water will have to wait,” I told him briskly. “Looks like a three hour train ride from England to Wales at least. After that, we have to find a way to get to the Gower place where the snake-lady’s sister lives.”

  “Why don’t we just rent a car?” he asked reasonably.

  I raised an eyebrow at him.

  “You do know they drive on the opposite side of the street here, right? You feel comfortable taking that on?” As much as I liked driving my Charger back home, I had to confess that I didn’t want to try driving here. I had tried it once and it left me sweating bullets.

  So sue me—I don’t like seeing cars coming at me from what my brain insists is the “wrong” side of the road. It makes me freaking nervous.

  But Michael only shrugged as though it was no big deal.

  “Sure I know—I don’t mind. I drove here once before on a trip with my family before my parents died. It’s not a problem.”

  “Not a problem, huh?” I gave him an appraising look. Was it wrong that his driving ability, both with my own Charger back home and here in the UK, made me want him more?

  Well wrong or not, I couldn’t seem to help it. Not that I intended to show it.

  “Not a problem,” he repeated. “And it’ll probably be a hell of a lot cheaper than getting busses and trains and taxies everywhere we want to go.”

  He had a point.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s rent a car.”

  We wound up in a tiny little peanut of a car that made me wish longingly for the legroom of my Charger. Due to his height, Michael was even more crammed in than I was, but he still seemed more at ease than I felt. And, true to his word, he handled the “backward” driving just fine.

  “Show off,” I muttered as he went around the second round-about outside the airport with ease.

  “It has to do with me being ambidextrous,” he said, merging effortlessly into the flow of traffic. “My brain is more flexible than most people’s when it comes to different situations.”

  I stared at him. “You can use both hands equally well? I didn’t know that.”

  “There’s a lot you still don’t know about me, Kate,” he said quietly. “After all, we’ve only been together—er, known each other—for a few days. It’s been less than a week since that first night in the ER when I stitched you up.”

  I looked out the window at the scenery rushing by. We were finally getting past the airport and its outlying areas and the English countryside was a grayish-green blur in my window. Had it really been such a short time since we’d met? Just a few days since I’d dragged him out of his ER and let him into my life against my better judgment?

  I knew it was true but it didn’t seem possible. I felt so connected to him—much more than was comfortable for me, to be honest. Feeling so much for Michael was scary—risky. Of course the fact that every other man I’d ever trusted and allowed myself to love had either died or betrayed me might have something to do with my issues.

  Nah, I was just a prickly bitch, right?

  Suddenly Michael took an exit and the tiny, peanut-sized car left the main flow of traffic.

  “Hey, what’s going on? We still have hours before we get to Wales,” I protested.

  “I’m not waiting that long to treat that arm of yours.” He frowned at my right arm, where the black lines were now creeping above my elbow. “We need to deal with that now before it becomes a crisis situation…if it isn’t one already.”

  “It doesn’t hurt that much,” I protested lamely. Indeed, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as a regular vamp bite. There was just a dull, throbbing ache and the skin of my right arm and hand was noticeably cooler than my left. Other than that and the black lines creeping up my arm, I felt fine—by which I mean I was pretty sure I’d still be able to fire my Glock.

  “I don’t care how it feels—it looks bad.” He gave me a steady look as he turned into a public parking area. “Trust me Kate—I’m a doctor, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” I sighed. “I just don’t like getting sidetracked on some unimportant issue when—”

  “Your life is not unimportant,” he burst out, surprising me with the vehemence of his words. He parked the car and turned to face me. “In fact, it’s the most important thing. You are important to me, Kate.”

  Just like on the plane, I searched for something sarcastic to say and couldn’t find anything. Nor could I tear my eyes from his steady gaze or stop the way my heart was thumping in my chest.

  God, I really was falling for him. I had to stop that—it was dangerous.

  “All right,” I said at last, looking down after a long, breathless moment. “Let’s make this quick and get back on the road. I’d like to find this Gower place where snake-lady’s sister lives before it gets dark tonight.”

  If Michael was disappointed about my refusal to give his sentiment back to him, he kept it to himself.

  “Come on,” he said, unfolding his tall, muscular frame from the tiny car. “I’m sure we can find a church around here somewhere.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  As a matter of fact, he was right. Not far from the public parking area we found a tiny tourist directory which consisted of one little old gray haired lady and a rack of brochures. The old lady, who introduced herself as Mrs. Bently, got quite excited when we asked for a church and wanted to tell us all about the history of the little village which had the quintessentially British name of Bromley-upon-Tweed.

  “Oh my yes,” she exclaimed when Michael asked about a nearby Catholic church. “Most of our chapels are Church of England but we do have a lovely Catholic church—quite an o