‘Tavish?’ I exclaimed, deliberately injecting disbelief into my voice. ‘You’re doing all this just so you can stay friends with Tavish?’

He settled back against the pillows, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. ‘Tavish is an ally, not a friend. His alliance is important to me.’

‘Well, somehow I don’t think Tavish is going to be the wonderful ally you think he is, so good luck with that,’ I said, saluting him with my drink.

My glass went flying, and Malik was just suddenly holding my wrist, kneeling on the bed, his face close to mine. My pulse tripped, even though I’d sort of expected his reaction. ‘Explain,’ he said, the order sinking into my mind. I didn’t try and resist it; I was happyto explain, whether he ordered me or not.

I jerked my head at the silver ring banding his thumb. ‘I’m not the only one you talk to in your dreamscapes, am I?’ I smiled, showing my teeth. ‘You told Tavish about my visit with The Mother, which is why he turned up the very next day with his new pal the Morrígan.’ And why Tavish hadn’t asked me how I’d got rid of the sorcerer’s soul. And why Malik hadn’t been surprised when I’d first mentioned the Morrígan to him at the Coffin Club. ‘But I hope whatever deal he cut with her is worth it, because she’s got him chained up as her new slave.’ His hand tensed around my wrist. ‘There appears to be a lot of slavery going around, though, so maybe it’s not something that worries you.’ I looked pointedly down at where he gripped my arm.

He didn’t let go. He was silent for a moment, his face unreadable, then some decision passed through his eyes. ‘You are still suffering from your injuries. Come, and I will heal you.’

I felt a buzz in my mind, not quite an order, more of a suggestion. I pushed it away frustrated. Crap, he’d decided to clam up. Now I wouldn’t get anything else out of him. ‘No, thanks. I’m not interested, not unless you’re prepared to talk to me.’

‘Genevieve, you are in pain.’

‘And I prefer to stay that way,’ I snapped.

‘I prefer to heal you.’ His dark spice scent swirled round me with a touch of soothing mesma.

‘No,’ I said flatly, trying hard not to breathe, and failing miserably. ‘I don’t want anything from you, Malik. I’m sidhe, and I heal up well enough on my own, thank you.’ I mentally batted away another, stronger suggestion, and tried to yank my wrist from him. ‘And don’t bother trying to force me: you’ll only end up damaging the goods.’

‘I do not intend to force you.’ He dropped his hand. ‘Instead, I would point out that you are in pain, and you have the fae to deal with tomorrow. Would you rather waste time in unnecessary convalescence over the next few days out of unconsidered anger, or accept my offer?’

He had a point, but it made no difference; if I hurt that much I could always buy a healing spell from the Witches’ Market. Not to mention—

‘I hardly think my anger is unconsidered,’ I said, not bothering to disguise the disgust in my voice.

‘Would it help if I apologised?’ he said quietly, fixing me with a steady gaze.

I blinked. ‘What for? Taking over my life and treating me like a possession? Don’t bother. If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.’ I waved at the window: the stars were twinkling happily away in the night sky. Bastards!‘It’s time for you to leave.’

He brushed a hand over his forehead, hesitated, then smoothed it over his buzz-cut. A stupid errant part of me wanted to know why he’d cut it— I growled at it to shut up.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I have told you I will keep you safe, so I will leave at dawn when it is no longer possible for another vampire to gain entry to your home.’

I snorted. ‘You’re the only sucker who’s got an invite, remember, so don’t bother—’

‘You have been giving your blood to Darius,’ he interrupted, a flare of anger lighting in his dark pupils, ‘therefore, you have also given him an open invitation. He is young and easily manipulated; and you have already seen how one more powerful has made use of him to gain access to you.’

I laughed—it wasn’t a happy sound—and pulled open the bedside drawer. I grabbed one of the empty blood bags and slapped it down on the bed between us. ‘ Thisis how Darius gets my blood, and he pays for every single bag—a token amount, admittedly, but it’s the principle that counts—and what’s more, he’s in credit for the next six months. Blood paid for or stolen can’t be used against you: I learned thatlesson from you. Now get out.’

He settled back against the pillows again. ‘I will leave at dawn, Genevieve. Not before. The bed is big enough for both of us to lie comfortably.’

I glared at him, my hands clenched in anger and frustration. London wasn’t big enough right now, never mind my bed! But there was no way I could physically throw him out. I wanted to scream, to shove a sharp blade through his cold, arrogant, currently unbeating heart, and then I wanted to empty the other two bottles of vodka in my fridge until I couldn’t remember his name, let alone his pale, perfect face …

I dumped the bottle on the floor, swung my legs off the side and stood, immediately regretting moving so quickly as my battered body objected. I grabbed my pillows and thought about sleeping in the living room, but damn it, this was mybed, and Iwas lying in it, whether he was there or not. Carefully, I crawled under the sheet, giving him my back and keeping as far away from him as possible. As my head sank into the soft pillows, I couldn’t hold back a relieved sigh.

‘Genevieve, I can heal you …’

‘No,’ I said, not caring if I sounded sulky or sullen, ‘I don’t want to be healed. So don’t touch me, or speak to me, or use your mind-mojo on me, and I’d be prefer it if you didn’t breathe either.’ Not that it would make much difference to him whether he did or not. ‘I don’t want you here.’

‘I am truly sorry, Genevieve,’ he said, regret slipping round me like a gentle summer breeze.

‘If you were truly sorry,’ I said, forcing the words past the anger, and yes, hurt, constricting my throat, ‘you’d tell me why you’re hooked up with Tavish, why I’m such a valuable asset, and what’s going on with Tavish, and with Mad Max, and what it’s all got to do with the curse. Oh, and you’d tell me what’s up with you and the Autarch too.’

I stared fixedly at my bedroom’s blank white wall until it went out of focus, waiting for an answer that didn’t come, nursing my anger. Malik might think I was a valuable asset now, but he wasn’t going to for much longer. I fell asleep determined to find a way to stop him running my life. Whatever it took.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap, tap.

The noise beat insistently inside my head and I turned over, trying to get away from it. Instead, I came face to face with Malik’s dark, staring eyes.

I blinked, then realised three things almost simultaneously:

Malik had somehow missed leaving before dawn, and was now in his ‘dead for the day’ state.

A thin sliver of sunlight was hitting the bed like a laser-beam, and it was inches from his bare foot.

And something huge and black was perched outside my window, tapping on the glass with a very large and very sharp beak.

My pulse speeding with apprehension, I leapt up—

—and a swooshingsound thundered in my ears as the black thing flew through the window, knocked me flying, and crash-landed almost on top of m e.

Feathers.

My mouth was full of feathers. I spluttered and spat them out, scrabbling at my mouth with my hands while something cawed loudly and indignantly next to my ear. There was a panicked flapping of wings as it moved, and a huge raven stared down at me from alien blue eyes, its long, grey, very sharp beak only inches away from my throat.