Death's Servant(22)

The tension coiling in me eases out. “You’re right. I’m being an idiot.” I rub my hand over my face. “I’m exhausted and have been running for days. It’s been almost a week since I escaped the mansion. I don’t know if the wolves I left behind are alive or dead.”
When the parents come to retrieve their child, Dria dips her chin in greeting, as if nothing is amiss and the toddler didn’t almost fall in while they were distracted.
“If he’s addicted,” Rafe says, “he won’t kill them. They’re too valuable.”
I nod, not really reassured by his assessment but unable to prove him wrong.
Dria saunters to us, her face guarded. “You certainly are a determined son of a bitch aren’t you?”
I jam my hands into my pockets, unsure of my decided course to offer myself to her, even though it’s the only option I’ve got. “I have a proposition for you.”
Her deep green eyes trail down my body. “I bet you do.” Rafe clears his throat. Dria’s face lights up with a cheeky smile. “I was just teasing him, love.”
“Hear the boy out.”
My spine stiffens at his words. Boy? I’m twenty-one. Hardly a boy. Then again, next to the older man’s obvious fifteen years on me, I’ll let it slide.
The people visiting the pool wander off as the last of the late afternoon light fades. We’re not alone by any means, but no one stands close, either. I guess this is as safe a place as any to voice my concept.
Only one tiny hitch I need to clear up first. “You’re not addicted to Were blood, are you?”
A pensive look crosses the vampire’s face. “No. I don’t suffer from such a weakness.” Her eyes turn calculating. “Were you worried if I did agree to help I might try to take the place of this ruling vamp and seize his captive pack for my own needs?” Anger colors her tone and fear grips my heart at the rage I see boiling in her eyes.
Her misunderstanding was not my reason for asking—I was more worried she’d feast on me and kill me by accident—but damned if my line of questioning doesn’t sound suspicious of me in hindsight.
“No! I swear that thought hadn’t occurred to me.” I look from one to the other, noting doubt clearly on Dria’s face and amusement on Rafe’s. “Couldn’t you just look inside my head and clarify I didn’t intend what you inferred?”
Dria glances into my eyes. Her face sets in a hard mask and she whirls away, “Get rid of this fool.”
Crap! I stepped in it again. And this time I wasn’t even trying.#p#分页标题#e#
A loud sigh escapes Rafe. “Damn, you really need to think before you speak. I almost had her convinced it was the right thing to do.”
“What the hell did I say wrong?”
“Well, furball, you managed to insult her three times in less than five minutes.” He nods toward the pool. “First, you briefly entertained the thought that she might snack on that family’s child.” The expression on his face clearly proclaims he thinks I’m an idiot. “Then you ask if she’s an addict, even though she showed no interest in drinking from you. And now you practically accuse her of slipping into people’s heads whenever the fancy strikes her.” He stares where his wife went to sit on a park bench.
“But didn’t she read my mind in the elevator? Isn’t it a common thing for vampires?”
“No—and not the way you think.” At my look of confusion he continues, “Okay, in the elevator you were projecting, like she said. She didn’t have to attempt to read your mind so much as you made your thoughts clear as a bell to anyone sensitive enough to hear them. Most vampires don’t go around poking in other supernatural’s heads. It takes effort on their part to do so and the action is considered exceptionally rude. In some cases, with strong mental shielding, extra skill and strength must be used to read thoughts, which can be detectable to the person the vampire is trying to read. With such risk of discovery, the ability is used discriminately.”
“Oh.” Hope deflates out of me. “I’ve essentially called her a pedophile blood-drinker, an addict, and insulted her honor as a vampire. Nice.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “Usually it takes more of an effort to score so hugely as an ass.”
Rafe’s hand comes down on my shoulder. “Don’t give up. If saving that pack matters to you don’t let a few ruffled feathers thwart your task.”
Thwart? How old is this guy? Who the hell talks like that? I mentally brace myself. He’s right, dammit. No matter what I think of myself and my actions, I’ve got to go through with my plan.