“Unless you unstrap her or I suddenly grow three feet taller, she’ll have to feed from my neck, not my wrists.”

Madigan’s smile could’ve turned water into ice. “She stays restrained and so do you, so neck it is.”

Tate leaned in and his familiar scent overcame the odor of bleach, germicide, blood, and fear that this room stank of. When his neck brushed my mouth, hunger took over; powerful, demanding, and uncaring of how grief had shattered my will to live. Of their own accord, my fangs dug into his throat, releasing that luscious crimson liquid into my mouth.

As I swallowed, Tate’s lips grazed my ear. Then he spoke so low that none of the humans should have been able to hear him.

“If you get the chance, leave. Don’t come back for us.”

I didn’t respond. For one, my mouth was full, and for another, I couldn’t risk telling him about Denise. His neck restraint might have a microphone in addition to its other gadgets.

Then he whispered something else that made my throat close off despite the conscienceless demand of my hunger.

“Is Bones really dead?”

I couldn’t speak now because if I did, it would come out in a wail of anguish. Instead, I nodded and forced myself to swallow. His blood felt like it was choking me the whole way down.

Tate’s sigh seemed to come from deep inside him. “I’m so sorry.”

I still didn’t respond. I couldn’t swallow anymore, either, and the few mouthfuls I’d consumed felt like they would come back up. Then, as if Bones’s spirit were whispering from beyond, I could almost hear him speak, and he sounded annoyed.

You want to kill the bastards, Kitten? You’ll need your strength, so quit whining and drink.

He was right. He’d almost always been right, and I’d so rarely listened. I would now, though. Mustering my resolve, I bit into Tate’s neck again, but I stared at Madigan as I swallowed.

You haven’t won. You just don’t know it yet.

Sixteen

They took Tate away after I’d drunk about a quart from him, but then brought him back after Madigan drained close to that out of me for his first rounds of tests. From Dr. Obvious’s thoughts, they were very excited over the preliminary results because my blood appeared to be compatible with ghoul DNA.

I’d wondered about that. When I was a half-breed, everyone knew I could’ve been turned into a ghoul and thus retained abilities from both species. That’s why the two races had almost gone to war because of me. Even as a full vampire, my heart still beat when I was under extreme duress, and my diet was anything but ordinary—two facts we’d kept secret so the ghoul nation would no longer consider me a cross-species threat.

If these tests were right, maybe I still was.

Speaking of war, where was Denise? It had been almost a day since she’d scurried under that doorway. She needed to hurry her furry ass up before Madigan started transmitting my blood results to other interested parties. What was she waiting for?