Page 34 of A Kiss of Flame
“I think I made a big mistake,” Levian said, her voice strained.
Dread filled his belly as he blindly ran over, ready to tear the vampire’s head from his shoulders. Smears of blood were spread over Deckland’s unconscious face, and Barith yanked Levian off the vamp and into his arms. “Are ye okay?” he asked, pulling away to scan her for bites. “I’m going to kill him,” he snarled. “I don’t care if he’s Sirus’s brother, I’m going to?—”
“Barith!” Levian snapped. He stopped his frantic survey. “His nose is bleeding. I didn’t let him drink from me!” She pushed him away in a huff.
“Oh,” he replied, the instinctive panic washed away with relief.
“Do you really think I would let him do that?” she hissed, disgust clear on her face.
“Ye did follow him in here!” he reminded her angrily.
Levian scoffed, pushing him aside so she could get closer to Deckland. Now that Barith got a better look at the vampire, he could see Levian was right. The blood was from Deckland’s nose, which had already stopped bleeding. The vamp was out cold.
Barith liked Deckland much better, unconscious and prone. “What the bloody Hells happened?”
Levian groaned, throwing her hands up. “I messed up!” she snarled. “I was trying to weave a spell discreetly so he wouldn’t notice—a little one that would make him more likely to tell me the truth. Except—” she groaned again. “The dampening magick here is worse than I anticipated.”
“Did he catch you?” Barith asked.
“No. He—” Levian grumbled a curse. “It doesn’t matter. All you need to know is I punched him in the nose, and here we are.”
Barith grunted in disbelief. “You punched the vampire in the nose and knocked him out?”
She glared at him over her shoulder, her violet irises flaring. “Why is that so hard to believe?” she snapped.
He shrugged. “You’re you. You can sling magick, but your punches don’t pack the same power.”
Levian’s expression soured as if she’d sucked on a lemon. “Well, I did,” she said, bristling. “And now he’s unconscious, and we’re screwed.”
Barith rubbed his beard. “Did you get anything out of him, at least?”
Levian stalked over to a small bar table, pouring herself a half glass of whiskey. “I’m fairly certain Deckland is involved in whatever deal is going down tonight.” She downed the drink and grimaced. “And that he’s going to wake up at any moment and want to kill me.”
The dragon sat at the foot of the bed, indelicately shoving Deckland’s booted feet aside. The vampire's body twisted awkwardly, which pleased Barith more than it should have. “What did the bloodsucker do, Levian?” he demanded.
She let out a deep sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “If you must know, he tried to kiss me,” she clipped. Barith's fists clenched, the temptation to throw Deckland’s unconscious body onto the floor becoming almost irresistible. “I was trying to get him to relax,” she continued, her words breathless. “I thought if we made out a little, he would be distracted enough not to notice my spell. But—” She groaned. “When he got close, I don’t know—I punched him. Right in the nose.”
Barith grunted. She must have been fast to get a shot off on the vamp. Or Deckland had been that distracted. The thought of them together in the bed made Barith want to scrub his brain with soap until his ears bled like Deckland’s nose.
He glared down at the vampire with loathing. “I didn’t think you could hurt anyone here without magick alarms going off and the Eldreth locking ye in chains?” The vamp’s nose was broken, and it would need resetting. Barith’s chest swelled a bit with pride at Levian’s handy work.
Levian shrugged, pouring another drink. “Apparently, they don’t care about protecting a vampire. Or maybe they don’t think it’s necessary. Or maybe he’s just that kinky and ordered them not to disturb whatever happens in his room as long as he’s the one being beaten.”
Not that Barith was one to judge anyone’s preferences, but it wouldn’t surprise him if Deckland enjoyed a beating now and then. He was only disappointed that he hadn’t been the one to bust his nose—or, better yet, his jaw. “So what now?” he asked.
“I’m thinking,” she snapped, slamming her empty glass on the table.
There was a knock at the door. Levian jumped, and Barith shot up from the bed. They exchanged tense glances before the knock came again, more insistent.
“Do you think they know?” Barith whispered.
Levian cursed under her breath, fiddling with her hair. “I don’t know. Stay behind the door,” she whispered.
“Levian, everyone saw me come back here!” he clipped.
She hissed a curse. “Well, it’s not like we have a bathroom window to jump out of. If we’re getting out of here, it’s through that door,” she told him.
Barith began summoning the fire from his core, drawing his long sword from his chest in a flare of flames. Levian’s eyes widened. “We can’t carve our way out!”