Tainted Blood (Hell's Belle Book 2) by Karen Greco Page B

abilities. Like, I could control the tides and the weather. Of course, the word "control" was a bit generous. I had a 60 percent success rate using that power. I stopped practicing when I almost made a tornado touch down in the middle of Providence. A tornado in the dead of January in New England? That's not weird. Right?
    The door to Frankie's apartment was repurposed from an old darkroom. It was essentially an enclosed rotating door. I installed it as a fail-safe, in case someone blew the top door off the hinges and flooded the stairs and basement with sunlight. Odds were slim that it would happen. But slim odds are still odds, and I wasn't taking any chances.
    Darcy had already pushed through the revolving door. She must be damned determined to come flying down here in the pitch black, in her jammies no less. Even though she had been with us for five years, her wariness of vampires had not abated. She refused to talk to me about it. Guess she thought it would hurt my feelings.
    By the time I rotated into Frankie's place, Darcy was smiling shyly and shaking Matty's hand. Her wild blond hair spilled over the side of her face. Damn she was stunning. Frankie raised his eyebrows at me, and an amused smile, barely visible, tugged at his mouth.
    Away from the threat of sunlight, and the influence of the demonic fan club president, Purefoy played the role of Rock God to perfection. Grasping Darcy's hand, he pulled her in to him, singing quietly in her ear.
    Trying really hard not to roll my eyes, I plopped down on Frankie's black leather couch, glancing around the apartment, which was really one cavernous room of exposed brick and oak flooring. He hadn't done much to it since he'd been here. The couch was part of a whole sectional set. It was a nice purchase, and probably courtesy of his mall obsession. I cringed when I saw a pile of clothes, tags still on, heaped on top of the dresser near his bed. If he didn't curb his shopping addiction soon, he'd need an intervention.
    "Feel better?" I forced a smile at Purefoy, hoping to interrupt the intimate moment.
    "Much, thank you. A little hungry. Do you have any blood bags?"
    Frankie smirked. "Blood bags?"
    "I don't like to bite," Matty said as he winked at Darcy. "No need to worry, doll."
    Darcy giggled.
    "Oh God. Seriously?" I groaned, rubbing my eyes with my free hand.
    "No blood bags, sorry," Frankie said, his tone clipped. I think he was trying not to laugh.
    As if it wasn't clear enough before, we were now certain Purefoy was a Beta. Small fangs, didn't like to bite. I was so punch-drunk exhausted, it was all I could do not to laugh.
    "So...Killing Haley? That's...not true?" Darcy asked hesitantly.
    "No, of course not." His face lit up. He was very good looking, in that skinny, emo sort of way. "That was my Dad's idea. He's really a brilliant marketer. Wish he put that skill to better use."
    Of course. Tavio was the man behind Bertrand's rise to power in Providence. The man got a demon into City Hall. Directing the career of a rock band would be a cakewalk.
    Purefoy motioned for Darcy to sit on the chair beside him, and she sank into one of Frankie's spiffy new club seats. "Nice furniture, Frankie," Darcy said, still beaming at Matty. But Frankie was so delighted to talk about his shopping that he didn't even notice.
    While Frankie launched into a blow-by-blow rundown of his afternoon testing out the chair, I took my coffee across the room to my partner's workbench, where he'd lined up a bunch of stakes along the table.
    Frankie came up with some truly stunning weapons. In one of his many lifetimes, he’d learned to blacksmith and made silver and steel weaponry. But he really excelled at woodwork. He made me a beautiful wooden crossbow that was destroyed in the fight with Marcello before I could even get a shot off.
    I picked up a stake and examined the intricate runes he had carved into the hawthorn wood. It was beautiful work. I reached for another one, this one etched with