Kiss of Steel by Bec McMaster Read Free Book Online

old woman? Remember Emily?
    He would never forget her. And God help him if he did—God help them all.
    Sound washed back in upon him. Blade opened his eyes. The world was a riot of color again, not the grim, stark shadows he saw when the hunger forced itself upon him. He could feel it receding, unsatisfied.
    “What are you doing?” The words died on her lips as she saw his expression.
    He gently disentangled his finger. “Your hair’s as soft as silk.”
    He almost laughed to see the bewildered expression on her face as she evidently searched his words for some hidden meaning and failed to find it.
    “I’ll thank you to keep your hands to yourself,” she finally said. “And you managed that sentence without a trace of the rookeries in it.”
    Blade ran the words back through his head. She was right. He’d sounded exactly like Vickers did, with his hard, crisp vowels and the slight sibilance he placed on certain letters. The comparison annoyed him. “You were right. I were born in the gutters, but I weren’t always street scum.”
    “That’s not what I meant.”
    “No?” He leaned back in the seat as they passed beneath the massive bricked edifice of Aldgate and into the heart of the city, hiding his face from the pair of metaljackets guarding the gate. The pair stood almost seven feet tall, with burnished metal breastplates and overlapping plates to protect the delicate steam-driven mechanisms that made them move.
    The enormous spire of the Ivory Tower gleamed in the distance. Since Parliament had been overthrown, the Ivory Tower had become the heart of Echelon power, and its soaring tower served as a watchful reminder of who ruled over London.
    There was no place in the city where you could escape the sight of it. Not even in the stews.
    “Have you ever been inside it?” Honoria asked, following his gaze.
    “Once.” He tore his eyes away. “Painted the floors wet with blood.”
    Her gaze shot to his.
    “Themselves don’t like rogue blue bloods runnin’ ’round. Only saw the sheriff’s ’otel, mind. Spent a few months there, rottin’ in the dark before I sprang meself. They come after me, but I convinced ’em it weren’t wise to chase me down. Found me way to the ’Chapel and stayed there.”
    “Do you think this is wise then?” Honoria said. “Coming into the city?”
    “Who’s goin’ to stop me?”
    She gave him a dubious look.
    Blade laughed. “They got better things to do than make sure I stay out. Too busy stabbin’ each other in the back and pretendin’ they didn’t do it.”
    “I think,” she said, “that you like playing cat and mouse with them. Proving that you can go where you like, when you like.”
    “Mebbe.” He smiled. “There’s a bit of the blue blood in me after all.”
    “Manipulation isn’t a symptom of the disease,” she replied primly. “But a manifestation of the individual’s own nature.”
    “Near every bloodsucker I ever met’d sell ’is mother for a bit o’ the ready. And how do you know what the cravin’ does or doesn’t do?” He examined their surroundings as though the question was an idle one. “You ever met a blue blood before?”
    “No,” she replied. “But I’ve read a lot about the disease.”
    Liar . Blade smiled to himself. She’d spill her secrets to him one day. Half a century of life had taught him patience if nothing else.
    The rickshaw came to a halt and the young driver ground the brakes on. “Here, sir. The White Hart.”
    Blade leapt to the ground and turned to offer a hand to Honoria. She blinked and he realized she’d missed the movement. “It’s warm inside and the grub’s good.” He gave her a disarming smile. “Or so I ’eard.”
    She didn’t want to take his hand. But her skirts were long and made the jump down somewhat precarious. The warmth of her fingers was somewhat intoxicating. That was what he missed most; he hated the clammy feel of his own skin. Sometimes he wondered if touching him felt like