Page 33 of Eternal Surrender

“He’s dead,” I said flatly.

She studied me with those all-seeing eyes of hers.

Blake caught up. “Ingrid, where have you been? Is that my tie?”

I glanced at the club, wondering if Marcus had realized yet that I’d left with her.

Blake reached for his tie. “Where did you find it? One minute I was wearing the thing, the next moment it’d gone. Talk about freaky.”

“Maybe you nodded off?” She threw him a scolding glance.

He looked annoyed. “I didn’t.”

Ingrid turned her back on Blake and stepped toward me. “How did he die?”

“Who died?” asked Blake.

“Long story.” I shrugged it off.

“Ingrid, you told me you’d text if saw anything unusual,” Blake interrupted. “I was about to raid the place.” He gestured toward Belshazzar’s. “Didn’t you get any of my calls? My texts?”

She patted her jacket. “Shit, my phone.”

“Well that explains it,” Blake said.

Ingrid studied the inflamed circle on her forearm, her expression returning to panic.

“What the hell happened?” Blake asked, horrified. “Is that a burn?”

I wondered if she’d ever recall how the vampires had respectfully parted for her when they’d caught sight of it.

“It’s nothing,” she whispered, though she was clearly in pain.

Blake shook his head. “Does it hurt?”

She peered up at me, her frown deepening.

Ingrid, the woman whom Orpheus had tried to turn; Ingrid, the lover whom Jadeon had tried to save, was standing there oblivious that both her nemesis and lover were one.

And back in Belshazzar’s was Marcus who was strong enough to do some serious damage to both of us if pushed hard enough.

Tension hung so thick it felt like it could choke me. I’d just saved her life, yet Ingrid’s hostile glare stayed on me.

“Let’s get you out of here.” Blake broke the silence and reached for her.

Ingrid pressed her fingertips to her lips. “I’m going to throw up.”

“How much did you drink?” Blake shook his head, annoyed.

“Watch over her,” I said sincerely. “Take care of her.”

“Fuck off!” Ingrid snapped.

“I should go.” I strolled away from them.

“I will find you,” Ingrid called after me.

Tucking my hands into my coat, I crossed Grosvenor Crescent heading toward Mayfair, carefully dodging the cars. “Not if I don’t want you to.”