Bloodline Read Online Free PDF Page B

and faerie dust. The bastards.
    They led him across the courtyard into a castle-like building made of large blocks of pale stone, along corridors with sides open to grassy quads and past men and women dressed in pastel-colored clothing—all of them gawking, none looking happy, a few with their wings out. Pretty . He didn’t need to feed, but he wanted to. He felt like the Ancient Mariner.
    Faeries, faeries everywhere nor any drop to drink.
    He gazed sideways to look at the sky, and each glimpse of blue filled him with awe. I never thought I’d ever see such a sight again . Maybe not until he died, and he’d barely have time to enjoy the experience of being out in daylight before it killed him.
    I’m out in the daylight. Why aren’t I dead?
    His brain clicked into gear. Oh fuck, I’m as good as . No way would they let him tell another vampire it was possible to live under the sun in Faerieland. There would be a mass exodus over the Divide. Vamps would force faeries to reveal the whereabouts of portals. I’m not going to be allowed to leave . He didn’t even know how he could. If the portal they’d brought him through wasn’t in the place where he’d woken—and he doubted it because otherwise there would be faeries falling into it all the time—he had no idea how to find or open one.
    But maybe he could persuade some faerie to give up the secret. Ryn had tried to help him, and glamour might work.
    What he needed was time. To think, to plan, to find a way out or a compelling reason why he shouldn’t be killed—at least not right away.
    A never-ending tattoo.
    This is the tattoo that never ends; yes, it goes on and on, my friend. I started to do it, not knowing what it was, and I’ll continue doing it forever just because… This is the tattoo that never ends… Oh fuck.
    Could he make up some excuse to do it slowly while he figured things out? He could deliberately drain the batteries for his gun and have to return to replenish them. He could…er…um…
    His mind went blank…apart from that bloody song.
    Unfortunate, since he had no one to rely on but himself. He wouldn’t be missed except by skins upset he’d disappeared without a word. He knew nobody of influence. He might be a brilliant tattoo artist, but it wasn’t exactly a skill no one else had.
    The faeries led him into one of the most beautiful rooms he’d ever seen. It had windows open to the outdoors, long, wispy drapes fluttering in a warm breeze, a sea of flowers inside and out. The brightness of everything dazzled him. He tried hard to make his tattoos vibrant with color, but nothing beat the real thing. If he was going to die, at least he’d had this. He put his bag on the floor and waited.
    A door opened, and Cavan snapped, “Bow.”
    Fuck that . “He’s not my king.”
    But the blow behind his knees sent him crashing to the ground, and he threw out his hands to save himself from face-planting. Bare feet came to a halt next to him. Lovely toes . Inigo looked up past white pants and a loose white shirt into a perfect face and gulped. He wasn’t into long hair, but maybe he’d make an exception. Straight dark hair fell to the guy’s shoulders. His eyes were a deep turquoise, his skin a flawless cream, and Inigo’s gaydar pinged loud and clear. He adopted his want-to-fuck grin and waited for the answering smile.
    He didn’t get it. Which pissed him off. He was good-looking too. Tall, dark, and vampire handsome. The lover who’d sketched him and repeatedly told him he was gorgeous was long gone, but sometimes Inigo took out the drawings to look at himself.
    No more than once a year.
    Okay, twice a year.
    Sometimes more.
    The king held out his hand, and Inigo heard the sucked-in breaths from all around the room. Don’t touch the vamp. He has cooties . He let the faerie haul him to his feet and waited for the flare of lust to heat his groin, the desire for blood to excite his brain and push out his fangs. Nothing happened. Hmm, that’s