Blood Stain: Book Three of the Blood Type Series (complete)

The Truth Hurts

The night air was thick with wood smoke billowing from the chimney, its acrid odor burning my nostrils. It was a smell that reminded me of home, of sitting in front of a warm, hypnotic fire on a cold night such as this. I found it oddly comforting as I sat out here in the middle of nowhere on the steps of Josiah's back porch.

"Look," I said, pointing overhead through the dense thicket of evergreen trees surrounding the secluded homestead. "The stars have come out. I think that one," I observed, craning my head for a better look, "is Orion." I squinted one eye as I traced an imaginary line with my finger to connect the dots that formed the constellation. "See how his sword is raised in one arm and shield extended? He's fighting off Taurus, the bull. And that one over there is Canis Major, the—"

"I don't care about the blasted stars, Blake," Ian said, cutting me off. He turned to me with a ferocious intent that took me off guard. "How could you end things with John? You loved him. Or at least that's what you claimed."

Lowering my arm, I clasped my hands in my lap. "Given the circumstances," I answered calmly while meeting Ian's probing gaze, "what did you expect me to do?"

I had just finished recounting the sordid history of what had happened since his disappearance more than a month ago. The story began with how I ended up working under Margaret's tutelage to better my compulsion and included Josiah's surprising revelations about his past, concluding with John's and my break-up and how I had discovered him locking lips with the witchy vampire, Hannah. Ian had listened quietly, not interjecting a word. I thought that was the end of the discussion. But instead of being sympathetic to my feelings, or even remotely understanding of what I had gone through, he was now looking at me as though he didn't know who I was.

"What?" I said, growing agitated and not a little unnerved by his glare.

"You're a smart girl, aye?"

The question was rhetorical, but I answered anyway. "Generally speaking, yes. Although people who don't understand my motives tend to think otherwise."

Ian's eyes narrowed. "Then I expect you to use the brain inside your head instead of acting like a love-sick lassie." He rose and bounded down the stairs, light on his feet, and yet I could feel the fury in every step he took. Pacing wordlessly, he finally stopped and stood staring into the black woods beyond, his back turned to me.

My face grew hot with embarrassment at being spoken to like a child. "I suppose I shouldn't expect you to be on my side," I said. "You're John's sire, after all."

And you love him in a way he will never love you back, I wanted to add.

Ian slowly turned to face me. "It's not about takin' sides. It's about seeing things for what they are."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm talking about how you were jealous of Hannah the moment she walked through John's door."

My hands clenched involuntarily in my lap but my voice was steady when I answered. "I was not, nor am I now, jealous of her."

Ian smiled, his teeth gleaming white in the halo of moonlight. It turned the tips of his hair silver and cast disturbing shadows over his face. He crept toward me, moving as stealthily as a predator as he spoke in a low voice. "I saw it with my own eyes. I know Hannah's mind, too. She's like a cat playing with a wee mousie." He climbed the steps and hooked a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You, my friend, are her plaything."

I smacked away his hand. "I am no one's plaything."

But even as I said the words, I knew there was an element of truth to them. Though Hannah had never been overtly hostile toward me, she knew how to get under my skin. Ian quirked his brow and turned away from me once again, not saying a word as he resumed his spot at the wood's edge. His silence only infuriated me more.