Priceless

crystal vase sparkled in the light, sending rainbows of colour skittering across the table. Pretty.
    Rolling up my left sleeve, I ignored the razor he’d laid out for me and pulled a knife out of my boot. It was clean, sharper than the razor and, better than both those things, I knew it had no added substances on it. Like a drug that would knock me out and leave me vulnerable to Doran’s fangs.
    With a swift slice, I cut across my arm, deep enough that I didn’t feel it at first. The blood welled in the groove I’d cut; I placed it over the vase, and then I felt the first sting. With every ounce of my self-control, I kept my arm dripping into the crystal vase while keeping an eye on Doran. At the halfway mark, I nodded at him. Holding the knife cut shut, I moved my arm away from the vase.
    “Okay, spill,” I said. My arm dripped blood on the floor; somehow I knew that would drive Doran nuts, the wasting of ‘good blood’. I was right.
    He started to splutter and stood up. “Put your arm back over the vase.”
    “Tell me my entry point.” I felt the distinct shift of power move from him to me.
    His eyes dilated and his mouth hung slightly open, fangs extending, like a junkie staring at his next fix. No response.
    I let go of the cut and let the blood drip to the floor, then scuffed it with my boot. “I can let the next half pint fall to the floor and technically, I’ve fulfilled the bargain.”
    Licking his lips, he gestured with his hand, waving me back to the vase. “A mineshaft. You’ll find the closest entry point to her in a mineshaft.”
    Well, that only narrowed my search down a bit. Coal was plentiful in North Dakota, and along with that came a lot of mineshafts. Some known, some not so known.
    “No other details?” I squeezed out another few drops onto the floor. It hurt, but his response was worth it.
    “Stop! Okay, put your arm over the damn vase, Tracker,” he snapped, his eyes glittering with anger.
    “You’re going to actually help me? Rather than just give vague answers?”
    Nodding emphatically, he again gestured. “Just stop wasting that blood.”
    Placing my arm back over the vase, I let the blood run. With every pump of my heart, a gentle flow slid out. I’d cut deep, but not into an artery or it’d be spurting blood—though I was going to have to make a side trip to the hospital for stitches after this.
    Doran came to stand behind me, his body close enough that I could feel the heat off his body. Unlike their counterparts whose skin was cool and tended to be clammy, daywalkers ran hot. Not that I knew that from a personal introduction; I’d never had to deal with a true vampire. They were rare, deadly, and didn’t tend to leave their territories. Not to mention daywalkers were weaker, more human and less badass blood suckers.
    “The mineshaft, it runs deep, over 200 feet straight down, and its back in your home territory.” He took a deep breath and my hair actually fluttered toward him. With his chin just above my shoulder, he whispered into my ear. “They stole her, in the light of day, underneath her mother’s watchful eye. One moment she was in the playground, then poof” —he blew across my ear, sending a course of shivers through me— “she was gone.”
    Just like Berget.
    He stepped back, leaving me to listen to my heart hammering in my chest, the beat of it loud enough that I knew he could see my pulse jumping in my throat. Fear. I told myself it was fear and adrenaline; that was all.
    Doran smiled at me, just lifting one corner of his mouth. He grabbed the lip rings with his fang and pulled at them, capturing my gaze with ease. There, at the corner of his mouth, it looked soft, as if it were the perfect place to press my lips to his.
    “Your half pint is finished, Rylee.”
    “Huh.” I cleared my throat. “Right.”
    “Here,” he said, that wicked smile still lingering on his lips, “Let me help you. I am rather good at stitching up wounds.”
    I stumbled away from him, more out of fear for what I was feeling than for my safety. “No. You have your blood and I have my information.” He was trying to pull me under his thrall, and I was falling for it, my mind weak from the blood loss.
    Keeping my eyes on him, I again backed toward the door, gripping my arm, keeping it closed as best I could. I had bandages in the Jeep. I just had to get there.

~13~
    I was shaking by the time I got to my Jeep, and I knew I’d lost more blood than the pint I’d