Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1), стр. 85

He caught her wrist. “The first I tolerated, but do not press your luck again.”

The sibilance with which he spoke could do nothing to breach the haze of fury she had lost herself to. “What luck? Am I to feel lucky that it was Milli’s flesh and not my own thus corrupted?”

“I have not touched your sister.”

Emma ignored Milli’s continued extortions that she becalm herself. “Do you tell me you consider bloodsucking a form of hospitality?!” She struggled in vain to remove her wrist from his iron grasp.

“Madam, you are distressing your sister,” he said through gritted fangs. “Compose yourself at once.”

“Or what?” she retorted, pointing to Milli’s neck. “You’ll drain me too?”

Finally, however, Milli’s sobs dispelled her wrath some small degree and she, with a bitter tear-stained glare, flew to her sister’s side. “Up now, Milli, we’re leaving!” She then yanked her sister up from the chair with all the strength her ire supplied. But poor Milli, white as a sheet, instantly sank to the floor in a swoon.

“Look what you’ve done!” Emma dropped to her knees to pat desperately at her sister’s bloodless cheeks, urging her to wake so they might flee this vampiric hell. “Get up, Milli, I beg you!”

When the devil himself leaned down beside her, she shrieked and would not let him near her sister. For his part, Winterly forbore her slaps with patience and inspected the unconscious girl with taciturn efficiency. Then he did something utterly unforeseen and horrific. He lifted the inside of his wrist to his waiting fangs—which had grown impossibly long and hideous—and punctured his own flesh so that the blood welled instantly over the wounds. The flecks at his white cuff were almost black in the shadowed room.

“Are you mad?” She gaped as he lowered his open wrist to Milli’s mouth. “No!” She dug her claws into his forearm. “How dare—”

“Do you want me to help her or not?” he replied impassively, eyes lowering pointedly to her hands. “I tell you my blood will do her no harm.”

After a cold silence she relented, lifting her hands from him in begrudging acceptance of his ministrations (macabre though they were). He allowed just a drop from his vein to fall to Milli’s wan lips. They were parted, her breathing unnatural, but his lifeblood left no stain as it passed cleanly to her tongue and from there, Emma imagined, to work a morbid miracle within.

Oh, she was the devil’s own fool for accepting his help. For staying, despite his nature. A damned fool for nearly falling into his bed. “As soon as my sister wakes we shall leave this place.”

“Think you that I cannot follow wheresoever you run?” He pulled his cuff peremptorily over his wrist, the flesh already knitting to.

She wiped angrily at her damp cheek. “As long as you leave my sister alone, I care not what you do to me.”

“It is not I that has lain claim to your sister, Emma.”

Emma’s eyes flew sharply to his. “What does that mean?”

“Her fate is sealed.”

“Milli is not chattel to be owned or played with! Neither am I!”

To that he made no comment. His gaze dropped suddenly to her sister who was already stirring to life.

Clear, lazurite eyes flickered open. With the help of Markus, Milli sat up. There were wary creases in her brow as she beheld Emma and Markus—who had, up till the point she’d closed her eyes, behaved no better than hateful disputants. Thankfully, though, the vile redness was fading from her neck.

Emma kissed her sister’s temple. “How are you feeling?”

“I already told you, I overexerted myself at the ball, that is all. No more of these hysterics, Em.”

Emma shook her head. “You may restore yourself to health in Little Snoring, we are leaving here at once.”

Milli instantly declared she was doing no such thing. “What madness has come over you?!”

“Mind how you speak to your sister,” said Markus. After receiving a chastened blush from Milli, he betook himself to the fireplace as though to consider some great secret burning in the embers. Both women stared after him, bemused.

It was into this tense scene that Victoria emerged, skirts bustling confidently. “Everything all right, my dears?” she asked, her manner all solicitude and grace.

“No,” said Emma coldly. “Nothing is right, least of all your contrived hospitality.”

“Emma!” Milli looked ready to expire of shame.

Emma, however, was in a marvelous temper and could spare her sister no looks of contrition. “The masquerade ended at dawn, Miss Winterly. I think it’s time you dispense with the facade and tell my sister what you really are. If she is to die in your custody, she might as well know the architect of her demise. Unmasked, if you have the courage.”

Never had Victoria appeared so utterly stunned, and Emma briefly congratulated herself on rendering the creature at a complete loss. Victoria shifted her black gaze to her brother, but he remained like granite before the fire, giving the room his back. However, it was not long before her composure settled back into place, her countenance becoming, once more, as smooth as porcelain. “I see I have somehow offended you, Miss Rose.”

“Not at all, Victoria!” Milli was quick to assure her. “Forgive my sister’s—”

“Bah!” Emma bristled. “They are vampyres, Milli!” She took her sister by the shoulders and shook her pleadingly. “They deceived you! They’ve been feeding from your veins while you sleep! It accounts for your anemia and the mark on your neck. You must believe me.” Her eyes welled with dismay, for it was clear her sister was appalled not by the revelation itself, but by Emma’s perceived mad raving.

“What mark?” Victoria was scrutinizing Milli’s unblemished throat. With an impatient sound, she withdrew from her pocket a small, round mirror—the vain creature—and, taking Milli’s hand curtly in hers, placed it in the girl’s palm.

Emma bit her lip. “The… the mark you left on Milli’s throat after I withdrew to the library earlier. You or one of the other blood thieves living under this roof!”

With a gasp, Milli