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more like late at night, but after midnight, it was morning, right? Right. “But I could use some orange juice and a few cookies.” That was what they gave you when you donated blood, and I’d donated quite a bit.
    â€œTell me where we can get these jews and cookets.”
    â€œJuice and cookies,” I corrected, and pointed up the stairs. “The kitchen is up there.”
    â€œInside the keep?” he asked, but he began to make his way up the stairs, cradling me against his chest.
    It felt a little odd to have my legs dangling over one strong arm, my head pressed against a chest that had no heartbeat, but I was too tired to walk it myself. “It’s not really a keep,” I told him idly as he climbed the stairs. “And all houses come with a kitchen now. Resale value and all that.”
    â€œMmm.”
    â€œWhat’s ‘mmm’ mean?”
    â€œIt means I grasp your words but I do not understand their meaning.”
    â€œYeah, well, I’m still not entirely sure how you suddenly speak English, so we can both be confused.”
    He chuckled, the sound warm. His chest moved against my ear. “I told you, mistrustful wench. It is because the Dragon knows your language.”
    â€œAnd I told you I have a name,” I retorted.
    â€œAh yes. Lindsey. It is a man’s name.”
    I made a raspberry with my mouth at that, like a child. I was too weak to come up with a coherent comeback, so that would have to do.
    He merely chuckled again and continued carrying me up the twisting, narrow stairs. At the top, he pushed aside the secret door as if it weighed nothing, and set me down gently on top of the nailed-down buffet. “Do not move,” he instructed me. “You are too weak.”
    I wanted to protest, but he had a point. I was feeling pretty damn weak at the moment, trembling with exhaustion. So I sat there and watched as my vampire captor climbed over the buffet and then pulled me back into his arms again. “Where from here?”
    I pointed him out of the dining room and saw that the door had already been pushed open wider than I had been able to move it. Clearly Rand had gone exploring while I’d been passed out. A shiver of fear hit me. I wondered what he’d seen. Gemma, asleep upstairs? Oh no.
    Then I wondered why he’d returned.
    â€œThe kitchen?” he prompted when we were in the narrow hallway of the Venetian apartment. I wordlessly pointed at another door, and he carried me in. The kitchen was slightly less messy than when we’d discovered it. Gemma had tackled it first, since she’d seen a fair amount of old vintage dishes she knew would bring a fair penny online.
    â€œThis is the place?” Rand asked, and when I nodded, he carried me to the counter and set me down gently upon it. “Now, where are the scullery maids? Let me know and I shall wake them. Is it the woman upstairs?”
    I stared at him with wide eyes. How had he known Gemma was upstairs? Had he hurt her like he did me? “You—”
    He shook his head, as if anticipating my thoughts. “She slumbers. I did not interrupt her. Your blood quenched my thirst for now.” He leaned in and sniffed me.
    Lucky me. I leaned back, trying to scoot away from him. “There’s no scullery,” I told him. “It’s just me and Gemma here.” I pointed at the old, small fridge in the corner. It still worked, and we’d been using it to store food so we didn’t have to eat out every day. “There should be some stuff in there.”
    Rand tilted his head, gazing at me. Then he leaned in and sniffed again.
    â€œUm, what are you doing?”
    â€œI have drunk blood many a time before, but perhaps my senses are . . . overeager. You smell . . .” He inhaled again. “ . . . incredible.”
    â€œGee, that’s nice.” I pointed at the fridge. “Can we eat now?”
    He gave