Arnes’ voice woke Flint from the sleep he’d fell into after he and Nellie had talked for hours, well, more she had talked and he’d listened and he’d thought on several occasions that she’d used her Fae powers on him. He’d felt weird after the first bottle of whisky, but he wasn’t sure it had anything to do with the alcohol in his system but more to do with Nellie and whatever spell she’d cast toward him

He’d squinted over at her, cocking a brow and she’d merely carried on, her words suddenly making perfect sense in his addled brain, so he’d let it go. Instead he’d sat, drank, and listened before finally his eyes drooped and he’d fallen asleep. Even that was, he thought, Nellie’s doing. He rarely napped during the day and certainly not while traveling. But here he was, jerking awake while Arnes explained they would be landing in half an hour and Nellie was sitting across from him knitting and looking fresh as a daisy.

“You’re a sly old woman, Nellie,” he muttered, sitting up and stretching. “Don’t think I’m not aware of what you did.”

She carried on for a few moments before her charcoal grey eyes lifted to study him for long seconds before she wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure,” he returned. “Whatever, now, what about that club you mentioned? I don’t recall you telling me about that?”

Her eyes crinkled and her mouth quirked at the corners as she set her knitting aside. “Ah yes, the club, it’s called Mystique and it’s right in the middle of Edinburgh, near the Castle actually. It’s been there for many years and is in an alley that’s, well, rather dingy and not too nice but you’ll be fine. If you ask any of Mister Alexander’s men to take you then I’m sure you’ll find it okay. But, beware, Flint, they don’t allow any bad behavior inside. So don’t get into any trouble or you’ll end up in a Directive cell quicker than you can blink.”

“They’re involved with the Directive?” He narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching tightly.

“Not involved with them, but the club doesn’t stand for any nonsense and as only supernatural creatures are allowed inside, well, they can’t exactly call the local constabulary. Can they? No, of course not. So, if there’s trouble, they call the Directive. Their offices are nearby and they arrive in moments, eager to snag anyone who does wrong.”

His body stiffened further as he imagined their operatives waiting eagerly in streets nearby, hoping for a call and jumping inside to catch anyone for the minutest infraction. He could see it in his mind and for the briefest of moments he thought he would give the club a miss . . . then a smile slid over his full lips as another thought slipped inside his head. Nellie’s voice a whisper which he chose to ignore while he saw himself having a hand-to-hand with a Directive operative . . . or two. Now that could liven up his vacation and might just make it bearable.

“No!” Nellie’s raised voice shot through him like a bullet, her hand on his shoulder. Damn, she’d got out of her chair and now stood over him. Her astute face hardened and her eyes grew angry, glaring down at him. “You’re not to go looking for trouble, boy. If you do then I’ll come and sort you out myself. Do you hear me? I’m telling you now, Flint, you won’t like that outcome . . . not one bit.”

Cracking his neck from side to side, he adjusted his face, closing it down and gazing up at her with an unfathomable look. “I’ll behave, promise.”

“You better.” She swatted his shoulder before returning to her chair, every muscle in her body screaming her outrage.

“I’ll be fine, Nellie,” he repeated but she stared over at him, wary and alert. He was certain she didn’t believe a word and she’d be right. He was planning on having some fun and it was going to be at the Directive’s expense.

Before Nellie could say anything more Addy made an appearance, her face blushing as she stopped next to him. “Just checking you’re buckled up for landing.”

“Yes, dear, we’re good,” Nellie answered before he could get a word out for which he was grateful.

“The Captain has advised that we’ll have about a forty-minute layover before we can take-off for your onward journey, Nellie. I hope that’s all right?”

“That’s fine.” Nellie picked up her knitting. “I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.”

“And if you give me your schedule we can arrange to pick you up for your return journey.” Addy handed over a pen and notepad.

“Certainly, I’ll do that. I’ll have a think and give it to you before I leave.”

“Thank you,” Addy said before retreating, glancing dreamily at Flint one last time.

“She’s got it bad for you,” Nellie quipped when she was out of earshot. “Poor girl.”

“I gave her no reason to suggest I was interested, and in fact, she’s lucky Victor’s not here. If he were she’d be out of a job.” Flint’s face darkened with frustration, annoyed and upset at the way the girl had conducted herself.

He ran a hand over his face, exhaling loudly as he tried to settle himself. His mouth compressed into a hard line as he refused to say anything further on the matter. His teeth clamped together and his jaw clenched, his hands bunching in his lap as he felt Nellie’s gaze. “What?”

“You’re strung so tight I’m just watching and waiting . . . expecting you to explode any minute.”

She was right. He could feel his body tightening like a coiled spring and he was ready to shout and scream at the next person who looked at him the wrong way. “Shit. I was feeling okay and now, well . . . I’m not. I’m feeling worse than I was before.”

“Tell me.” Nellie urged, leaning forward.

“I’m . . .” Flint paused, and then it hit. Hunger. He was starving, absolutely starving. But there was no damn reason for him to be hungry. He’d fed last night! Shit. “I’m thirsty . . . hungry, but I fed last night, I shouldn’t be. Fuck.”

He had no intention of telling her just how he’d sated his craving the evening before. That was his business, but he’d fed, and fed damn well. So there was no reason for the thirst that was coursing through him right now. It was eating at his insides painfully, causing him to flinch and grind his teeth, his jaw aching as he glared across at Nellie.

Nellie’s eyes widened, shock and alarm flitting across her face and in her slate grey orbs. “Damn it, Flint. You look like you’re ready to rip someone’s throat out. Do you have a supply with you?”

He sat perfectly immobile, his thoughts running rampant in his skull as he fought to focus on her question as he saw the look of confusion and bafflement swirling across Nellie’s face, quickly followed by fear when he shook his head. “No.”

“What?” she asked, shocked. “You can’t be serious, Flint.”

“I am,” he choked out, not believing his own words. “I don’t know what the fuck’s the matter with me but I left my travel bag in the kitchen. It’s okay, it’s going to be all right. We’re landing and I’ll get picked up and be out of here and that’s all that matters.”

He hoped to hell his driver was there. Right fucking there when they landed. He better not be late and if he was lucky he might even have a bag or two in the car. Shit. If that were so then he should be okay. He shouldn’t be feeling like he’d gone a damn week without blood . . . yet he did. Maybe he was mistaken and he didn’t eat yesterday. Yeah, that must be it. He’d dreamed his visit to that damn club and he hadn’t drank down a shit load of B-Positive while pounding into . . . fuck, who was he trying to kid. He was there and he’d had enough to last him a fucking week. This was all wrong! And he told himself he did not want to leap out of his seat and go find Addy and sink his fangs into her soft white throat and drink down her warm, sweet blood. No!

“What the fuck!” he mumbled aloud, his hands shaking as he lifted them to run through his hair, taking great gulps of air in through lips that were suddenly dry, parched, and in desperate need of some crimson liquid.