‘The police are already looking for this killer, and they will continue to do so, regardless of the curse.’ He studied me, his expression thoughtful. ‘Genevieve, do you not want a child?’
Fuck, no! ‘I’m only just twenty-five, Malik—I’m too young to be tied up with a kid.’
‘Yes, you are young, but the child would be an adult in a few years, and you will still be young. You are sidhe, a near-immortal; you will be young for centuries yet. It is but a small portion of your life to devote to a child, if the end result is one you desire?’
I jumped up, frustration, fury and fear raging through me. ‘Listen!’ I jabbed a finger at him. ‘One: if I were ever to have a child, then there’s no way I’d let it fend for itself, just because it was a so-called adult. The child would be my kid for life.’ I jabbed at him again, my voice rising. ‘Two: do you really think I haven’t thought all this out for myself? And three: what the hell do you think you’re doing? This has nothing to do with you—you’re not fae. And if Tavish has put you up to persuade me, then you can tell him from me: it won’t fucking work. I do not want a kid, and unless I get something more significant than some iffy photofit and some cryptic clues, then I’m not going to, not now, and not ever. I will find another way to break the curse, even if it kills me.’
He rose in one graceful, effortless movement, concern and bewilderment on his face. ‘I understood that this situation was not one you wanted, Genevieve, or were comfortable with, but I did not realise that having a child engendered such fear in you.’ He reached out, but I twisted away before he could touch me. ‘Why is that?’
‘You’re asking me?’ I clenched my fists, trying to keep from shouting at him. ‘When you know what happened between my mother and father? What he did to her? Talk about a bad start in life!’ I snorted. ‘And it didn’t get any better, did it? Hell, my own father married me off to a psychotic, sadistic sucker, then I spent the next ten years being a pawn in some shitty Prohibition game cooked up between the lot of you, a game I didn’t even know I was playing. Oh, and let’s not forget, I’ve died three— No, wait, that might even be four times now. Four times, Malik! I might be sidhe and nearly immortal, but that’s pushing it for anyone. Next time my death might stick, my body might actually fade, and there will be nothing for me to come back to. No way am I bringing a kid into a world like this, not with all the bad luck and tainted blood in my heritage, even if there wasn’t the damn fertility curse to deal with.’
He frowned, perplexed. ‘I never met your mother, but from what I heard, your father was besotted with her, and Nataliya with him. I do not know that he ever did anything untoward to her—’
‘C’mon, Malik—that story about my father finding her at a fertility rite and the pair of them falling head-over-heels and then her tragically dying in childbirth? It’s just that: a story. One I stopped believing in a long time ago.’
Like I stopped believing in a whole lot of other things, like my father had my best interests at heart, and vamps were just people with pointy teeth, all thanks to the psychotic vamp my father betrothed me to: a.k.a. the Autarch, Britain’s Top Dog vamp—and Malik’s erstwhile master. I ignored the terrified, sick feeling in my stomach that always accompanied thoughts about my betrothed and glared at Malik.
‘It just doesn’t stack up.’ I smacked one of the steel beams. ‘I mean, how the hell did a vamp gatecrash a sidhe fertility rite in the first place, let alone survive long enough to get one pregnant? And then he actually kidnaps her when he escapes? Oh, and not to mention managing to keep her hidden from her queen and court long enough for a child to be born?’
‘Ah.’ He brushed his hair back where it had fallen forward. ‘I understand now. You think your father forced your mother in some way—’
‘I know he did!’ I yelled. ‘No sidhe would willingly have a child with a vamp—it just doesn’t happen!’
He stilled. Hot flames flared in his pupils, then snuffed out. The temperature on the walkway dropped about twenty degrees and I shivered in the sudden icy air as my horrified mind caught up with the stupid, thoughtless words my mouth had uttered.
‘And you know this how?’ he asked, his voice as chilly as the air.
I grimaced, my anger fleeing in the face of an insulted vamp—a powerful, dangerous, insulted vamp … a vamp I cared something for, and truly hadn’t meant to hurt. Way to go, Gen! ‘Look, Malik, I’m sorry, that didn’t come out—’
‘Quiet, Genevieve.’
His order snapped into my mind, and my mouth stopped talking. Shock tripped through me, but before I could protest, he added, ‘Sit down and do not speak to anyone but me until you leave here.’
I half collapsed, half sat on the walkway, disbelief coursing through me that he’d sicced me with his mind-mojo.
‘Falling at your feet, is she? Lucky you, old chap.’
The loud, jovial voice came from behind me, and snapped me out of my shock. I twisted round to see its owner strolling along the walkway, his long platinum hair blowing out behind him like he was the star in a shampoo ad. The blousy red poet’s shirt and tight black trousers he was wearing added a pseudo-romantic flair, as did his dark, hooded eyes. But the manic grin, wide enough that I had no trouble seeing his fangs, spoiled the whole Byronic throwback look.
Tentative relief settled in me as I realised that Malik’s chilly rage might not be all about me.
‘You are not welcome here,’ Malik said, his voice soft with threat. ‘I suggest you leave now.’
Blondie threw his arms as wide as his grin. ‘Give it your best shot, old boy,’ he called, speeding up to a jog. Smoke-like shadows coalesced around us, drawing into spear-like lines of darkness that shot along the walkway to strike the now-sprinting vamp chest-on. He screeched, a high yipping sound, and the shadow spears vanished as he blurred forward and skidded to a halt a few feet away.
‘Dreamscapes are such fun,’ he chuckled, leaping up to hang from the steel rafters like a spider, ‘although I did expect the sidhe to be a tad more graceful.’ He leered down at me. ‘Still, I’m sure the blood makes up for any clumsiness.’
‘The sidhe is not your concern.’ Malik’s tone was back to being icy.
Great, let’s all talk about me like I’m some sort of pet.
I narrowed my gaze to peer at the vamp hanging above me. I recognised him. Blondie was the vamp Finn had once ‘staked’ with his horns, who’d later vanished. He’d kidnapped a human friend of mine to blackmail me into taking his blood-bond. I’d considered him pretty much a low-life opportunist at the time, so I hadn’t been too worried when he’d disappeared. Now I wasn’t sure quite what he was, but Malik’s spike in tension (which, oddly, I was picking up again, like I was some sort of radio receiver) suggested Blondie was definitely dangerous.
Blondie dropped down, smoothed his hair and winked at me. ‘Any chance you’d be up for sharing with an old drinking buddy?’
‘Do not even consider it, Maxim,’ Malik growled, his voice vibrating harshly next to my ear. I jumped, startled at finding him crouched next to me. ‘Give me your hand, Genevieve.’ He held out his own, and I placed mine in his, thinking he meant to help me up.
Maxim gave a barking laugh. ‘Getting territorial over the sidhe, are you? Good God, that’s not going to go down well with His Royal Highness.’
Royal Highness?
Malik’s grip tightened on my fingers. I flinched.
‘My apologies, Genevieve.’ Malik’s voice was calm in my head. ‘I did not intend to hurt you.’