Alistair hissed sharply, his eyes flashing crimson as his fangs slipped into view. "Lower your voice," he growled. "I know I'm bleeding. It is nothing serious."
Nothing serious, he claimed—yet his body betrayed him.
Whatever had wounded him was no common blade.
Silver, perhaps. Or something blessed. The kind of weapon forged specifically to bring creatures like him to their knees.
Vampire hunters.
The thought sent a chill down Selene's spine.
She did not ask him what had happened. She did not ask where he had gone after leaving her the night before, nor what horrors he had faced before returning like this. Some truths were better left untouched, at least for now.
She didn't want to push him by asking questions in his condition right now. There was a ninety nine percent chance that he would kill her due to irritation.
Instead, she made her choice.
