Bite Marks & Broken Hearts (The Killigrew Street Case Files, #1)

by T.J. Rose

London’s forgotten churches held many secrets, but the dead girl sprawled across the altar wasn’t supposed to be one of them.

Five centuries of existence, and this was what my dignity had come to. Being mocked by a wolf over getting kneed in the groin by some human who didn’t even seem to possess the most basic of common sense in his pretty head.

“One bread, please.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Flynn’s eyebrows shot up. “One… bread?” “Yes. I mean, one loaf.”

My gaze soon returned to Flynn Carter, unable to stop tracking him as he moved behind the counter. He had this curious habit of tucking a rogue strand of hair behind his ear, only for it to spring loose again seconds later.

“Right.” Flynn’s voice cracked. “What do you want?” I leaned casually back in the seat, trying my best to appear non-threatening. A pulse fluttered visibly at Flynn’s throat, panic-rapid, yet he held my gaze with stubborn determination, chin raised in defiance. “You’re very brave.” The words slipped out unbidden, and I stiffened, my fingers curling against the leather armrest.

My companion’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening, and for a moment the carefully maintained rhythm of my false breathing faltered. Because Flynn’s eyes were the kind of blue that belonged in cathedral windows, sanctified and untouchable. As blue as the spring sky over Toledo had been, all those centuries ago.

“You’re very quick to assume my malicious intent, yet you happily followed a strange man into a dark alley after knowing him for all of five seconds.” I couldn’t stop the sharpness of my tone, but in all honesty, he needed to hear it. “Is your sense of self-preservation usually so compromised?” What was it about that cambion that made all common sense fly out the window? A blush bled across his pale cheeks. “Look, I’m not usually that much of an idiot. I… haven’t been thinking straight recently.” “Clearly.” I should have stopped, but I could not resist the urge to press the matter. “What was it about him that entranced you so?”

What kind of idiot follows their armed stalker to an unknown location? Oh, right—me.

I suppose I had to admit his outfit did sort of suit him—the navy-blue tailored trousers hugged his legs in a way that did not escape my notice. I forced my gaze elsewhere. Getting distracted by a potentially dangerous stranger’s ass wasn’t going to help my situation. I’d experienced that first‑hand yesterday.

I took a deep breath. “Fine. But I’m keeping my phone ready to call for help.” 9-9-9, I’ve willingly followed my armed stalker to a haunted hotel, can you help me please?

“Dolly, any messages?” I looked up, expecting to see another person, and jumped backward with a yelp. “Jesus Christ!” My heart hammered against my ribs. “What the hell is that?” Behind the desk sat what appeared to be a life-sized porcelain doll. Her painted face smiled serenely, glass eyes staring creepily at me. She wore a high-necked Victorian dress, complete with a lace collar and cameo brooch. Her blonde ringlets were arranged perfectly around her face, hands folded primly on the desk before her. “That’s Dolly.” Sebastián remained completely serious. “Our receptionist.” I stared at the doll’s fixed expression, fighting the urge to run. Her painted smile seemed to mock me. I turned slowly back to Sebastián, once again seriously questioning my choice to follow him here. “You’re having me on.” “Dolly’s been with us for years. Very reliable employee. Never takes sick days.” He winked at me. “Ha… ha?” If he thought his odd humour would make me relax, he was severely wrong. Sebastián continued down another corridor, and I jogged to catch up, glad to get as far away from Dolly as possible.

The woman in purple stepped forward, extending her hand with a warm smile. “I’m Priya. I’m sorry about everyone else—they haven’t been properly socialised.”

A sleek coffee machine sat on a sidebar. Someone had taped a note to it reading “OUT OF ORDER (Kit, stop trying to fix it, nobody wants you to)” with several angry faces drawn underneath. I gestured to the note. “So… Kit’s not great with repairs then?”

Sebastián laughed—a rich, velvety sound that seemed to chase away some of the basement’s chill. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t tell Kit this, but after the last time he fixed it, Rory snuck down in the middle of the night and attacked it with a butter knife.” The mental image made me snort. “Seriously?” “Felix caught him on the security cameras. He was wearing all black, an official coffee machine saboteur.” Sebastián’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “We have the footage saved somewhere. For leverage.”

I looked pointedly at Sebastián, waiting for him to start talking. As if finally preparing to get down to business, he cleared his throat and began rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt. The fabric was so perfectly pressed, each fold created sharp lines as he worked methodically up his arms. My mouth went dry.

“You may have already guessed this, but what that man did to you… it wasn’t…” He paused, considering. “Natural.” The cold sensation in my chest flared at the memory. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold in whatever warmth remained. “Okay…” “I suppose some people would say, it was supernatural.” I blinked at him, and he pinched his nose again, sighing. “Kit is always so much better at this than I am.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. “Right. Of course. Makes perfect sense. So what was he, then? The bogeyman?” “A demon, actually. A lesser one. Often referred to as a cambion.” The matter-of-fact way he said it made me laugh harder. The sound echoed off the concrete walls, wild and unhinged even to my own ears. “Oh, a lesser demon.” I mimed wiping fake tears from my eyes, just to be dramatic. “No need to panic, then. But sure, why not? And I suppose next you’ll tell me your blond friend upstairs is secretly a werewolf?” Sebastián’s lips parted. “Well, we don’t use that terminology… but yes. How did you know?”

Sebastián laughed—properly laughed for the first time—and the rich sound made my stomach flip.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, studying the concrete floor. “I didn’t mean to…” “It’s fine.” His voice had gone carefully neutral. “The mark… it might make you act… impulsively.” I wanted the sofa to swallow me whole. Right. Blame it on the demon magic. Much better than admitting I’d been about to make an advance on the mysterious, beautiful man who’d saved my life. Almost saved my life. I had to take what I could get.

Kit sighed and settled into the chair. “Right, then. Flynn Carter, aye?” His Scottish accent was more pronounced than Rory’s. “Well, you don’t look quite as scrawny as Rory reported.” Ouch. I glared at Rory, annoyance overriding my fear. I raked my eyes over his small frame. “Right, because you’re clearly qualified to judge physical proportions.” Rory’s mouth dropped open, and Kit barked out a laugh. I tried not to look smug.

“Everyone is to use the underground entrance until further notice,” he continued. “The cambion saw my face. We don’t know if Killigrew Street has been compromised.” “But how will we get to Fat Cat’s?” Rory whined. I stared at him in disbelief, a hysterical laugh threatening to bubble up again. The café? They were worried about coffee shop access while actual demons were apparently hunting me down? “If you must, you can take turns making the longer trip,” Sebastián replied, pinching the bridge of his nose yet again. Honestly, it was a wonder he wasn’t grey, dealing with this lot. What was he thinking when he hired them? Kit’s eyes drifted toward the broken coffee machine. “Maybe it’s time to—” “No!” Rory and Priya shouted. “Don’t take this one thing away from us, Kit,” Priya added. “Just let them have their coffee, Kit,” Sebastián cut in, his tone final.

Priya and Rory celebrated their coffee victory. Felix typed furiously on a laptop. Kit watched over them all with barely concealed fondness. And Sebastián… He stood apart, outlined against the harsh fluorescent lights, all sharp angles and quiet authority.

I leant back in my chair, the memory of Flynn’s earlier gratitude washing over me. The way he’d gazed up at me, those fatally blue eyes filled with such trust. “Thank you,” he’d said, quiet and sincere and bloody hell—my dead heart had actually skipped. And now, the image refused to leave me in peace.

The memory of him in that crocheted garment was one I wouldn’t forget in a hurry—the holes had revealed tantalising glimpses of delectable skin, like some kind of torturous connect-the-dots puzzle. That damned jumper. Professional duty had dictated I concentrate on the supernatural threat at hand, yet I’d been thoroughly compromised by that strategic arrangement of holes and skin.

“What’s with the whole Noctule code‑name thing?” I gestured to his phone. “We all use them. They’re all animals and I made them all up.” He preened slightly. “Seb’s is Noctule. It’s a type of bat.” He grinned at me like it was the most hilarious joke in existence. “Right,” I said, pretending to get it. “And what’s your code name?” His smile morphed into a scowl. “Terrier. It was revenge for Kit’s being Poodle.” I burst out laughing, the mental image of the intimidating Kit being called “Poodle” too much to handle. “You’re joking!” “Kit literally threatened to end me, but everyone loved it too much. Even Seb smirked. Slightly.” The idea of these dangerous supernatural beings running around with ridiculous code names was possibly the best thing I’d heard all week.

Sebastián Just heard you were at the police station. I sincerely hope you weren’t caught in the crossfire between our resident wolf pup and 'Detective Dickface’s' eternal feud. Their sexual tension gives me migraines. I snorted, then quickly tried to hide it as a cough when the wolf in question glanced over from the driver’s seat. I stared at the message, finding my heart curiously pounding at the surprisingly friendly, conspiratorial tone. I’m fine. Though I think I now understand why you pinch your nose so much. The reply was instant: They’re like children. Extremely dangerous, supernatural children with access to firearms and magical abilities.

He was sweet. Cinnamon-sugar sweet. As well as disarmingly earnest and rather attractive. I banished the thought immediately. Flynn was under my protection, and I was more than capable of maintaining professionalism. Even if he was the most exquisite temptation. Even if every fibre of my being ached to taste him.

A few clicks later, and the screen flickered back to life. “There we go.” Flynn’s smile lit up his whole face. “Just needed a restart.” “But why can’t they make them so they don’t freeze? We’ve sent men to the moon, for Christ’s sake!”

After two decades of control, I’d thought myself immune to such base attractions. Yet here I sat, reduced to an infatuated teenager, unable to tear my eyes away from a human who’d stumbled into my world a handful of days ago.

“—which means you can handle pretty much any weather—” He paused mid-gesture, his hand dropping. “God, I’m sorry. I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” “Not at all.” I shifted to face him properly. “It’s delightful to see someone so passionate about something.” “But you haven’t understood a word I’ve said.” “That’s irrelevant.” I smiled, hoping to ease his sudden self-consciousness. “I may not follow the technical details, but I understand the feeling behind them. The way you describe these boats… it’s like poetry.”

But one look at the way he cringed from my approach told me that any attempt at comfort would only backfire. “I know that was… a lot to take in. But I need you to stay calm and let me explain—” “You’re—” he began, then stopped, swallowing hard. His gaze kept darting between my face and the bloodied corpse on the yacht, as if unable to fully process either sight. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The question shocked me into silence. Because I didn’t want this very reaction, not when I was enjoying the way you smiled at me so often. “I was… getting around to it,” I suggested, the sentence sounding weak to my own ears. “You told me about Kit and Rory.” Hurt leaked into his words. “I thought you were a human, like me!” Yes, but they turn into fluffy wolves and I’m a bloodsucking monster. “It wasn’t necessary for you to know.”

His hand reached out. I suddenly forgot how to breathe as his fingers caught the hem of my pyjama top, which had ridden up slightly. With careful precision, he tucked the fabric into my waistband. My skin blazed where his knuckles had brushed against it. I tried not to focus on the proximity of his hand to my groin, but my cock took no notice of me, and heat rushed south. “Why did you do that?” I said, embarrassingly hoarse. “That strip of skin was tormenting me.”

“Because I find you incredibly attractive, and your blood is the sweetest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of having in my mouth.”

I cleared my throat, willing my racing heart to slow. “Huh. And here I was worried that you were actually straight and this was all in my head.” His mouth quirked up at one corner. “I’ve had lovers of each and every persuasion over the centuries.”

“But you’ve been flirting with me.” His eyes narrowed. “I most certainly have not!” I might have had limited experience with relationships, but I wasn’t about to get gaslit by him, centuries-old vampire or not. “Really? What about ‘I find you incredibly attractive and your blood is the sweetest thing I’ve ever had in my mouth?’” His lips pressed together. “That wasn’t flirting. Those were simply… observations.” I glared at him. “I… shouldn’t have been.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Flirting, that is. If I was.”

“I thought I loved him.” My voice wavered. “But now I’m not so sure. We were super close for years, and I think I just wanted desperately for someone.” Heat crept up my neck. “I mean, I’ve reached twenty-five and I’m still a virgin. It’s embarrassing.” I clearly wanted to dig the shard of glass in deeper as I forced myself to look up at Seb, bracing for pity or mockery. Instead, his eyebrows had shot up towards his hairline, genuine shock written across his features. “Flynn—” “Don’t.” I straightened up, forcing a smile. “Don’t try to make me feel better about it. I know it’s pathetic. It’s humiliating.” “It’s… surprising.” Seb’s eyes roamed over my face, down my body, and back up again. “You’re so confident, so warm to everyone, and—now, this isn’t flirting—quite frankly, very attractive. I’d have thought you’d have people fighting over you.” Heat bloomed across my cheeks at his words. The way he said it—so matter-of-fact, like he was stating the sky was blue—made it impossible to dismiss as empty flattery.

“Can… I hug you?” The uncertainty in his voice caught me off guard—this powerful vampire, this dangerous man, asking permission to comfort me. As if I might shatter at his touch. I let out a watery laugh. “In a non-flirty way?” The joke fell flat, my voice breaking on the last word. Seb tutted. “In whatever way you need right now.”

Still wrapped in his firm embrace, a thought struck me. The silence between us felt different, missing something crucial. I pressed my ear closer against his chest, confirming my suspicion. “You don’t have a heartbeat.” His arms tightened fractionally around me. “I’m sorry.” The weight behind those two words hit me—he wasn’t apologising for his lack of pulse. He was sorry for being what he was, for all the barriers it created between us.

When he spoke again, his voice was low and rich. “For what it’s worth, if things were different…” He pressed his mouth to my ear, and even though I’d just been sobbing my heart out, my cock hardened so fast it made me dizzy. Heat pooled low as his breath ghosted across my skin. “I’d carry you up those stairs, throw you on my bed, and give you exactly what you deserve.” I pulled my head back, arching an eyebrow at him. “I think you and I have very different definitions of flirting, Sebastián.”

His eyes flickered downward for a fraction of a second, then snapped back to my face. The tips of his ears darkened—could vampires blush? “Right. Yes. Absolutely.” He stepped back, running a hand through his curls. “That would be… wise.” “Wouldn’t want to tempt you with any more observations.” I backed towards the door, fighting a grin despite my predicament. “Purely out of respect for your noble vow, of course.” “Flynn.” His voice held a warning note that sent delicious shivers throughout my entire body. “Going!” I threw my hands up in mock surrender. “Though I must say, for someone who doesn’t flirt, you’re remarkably good at—” “Goodnight, Flynn.”

As if summoned by my anxiety, my phone vibrated, and a photo of Flynn filled the screen. I’d asked him to message me when they arrived, not take a picture of him stuffing an entire croissant into his mouth, but I’d happily take it. Flynn Rory says I shouldn’t waste perfectly good pastries on silly photos but he’s just jealous of my model potential LOL

I’d faced down armies. Survived plagues, countless wars, and the Spanish Inquisition itself. I would not be undone by a few sweet messages from a man who enjoyed taking photos of himself with pastry crumbs all over his face.

“I didn’t hear you coming over the volume.” He tilted the screen down, not quite meeting my eyes. His usually composed face was so flustered, I couldn’t resist asking, “Were you watching porn?” His head snapped up. “I most certainly was not!” A hint of his Spanish accent slipped through—I must have properly rattled him.

Seb’s low chuckle sent a rather delicious shiver down my spine. “Priya’s readings do tend to fixate on romance. Last month she told Kit he’d meet a mysterious dark-haired stranger who’d sweep him off his feet.” “And he did!” Priya protested. “He fell down some stairs and a paramedic with black hair helped him up.” Seb’s gaze lingered on me, a hint of mischief playing across his features. “Though I suppose we shouldn’t dismiss Priya’s romantic predictions so quickly. After all…” He stepped closer, and my breath caught. “Her observations about new connections have proven rather accurate lately.”

“Well, I’ll be here later!” I cringed at my desperate tone. “You know… because I sort of live here.” Until they sorted the demon problem or I died. “For now.” Smooth Flynn. Real smooth. That’ll definitely make him forget whatever vampire sex god he’s rushing off to meet. Seb pressed his lips together, clearly fighting a smile. He fussed with the coat on his arm, smoothing the fabric down. “I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long.” My heart did a little flip at his words, though his tone remained neutral. “Good luck with your meeting,” I managed, aiming for casual and failing spectacularly. He turned and strode out without looking back, his footsteps fading down the corridor. “Well, well, well.” Priya’s voice dripped with amusement. “Those tea leaves are never wrong.”

“Touch anything except the steering wheel and gear stick, and I’ll arrest you myself.” “Aw, handcuffs and all?” Rory twirled the keys around his finger, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “I guessed you’d be into all that.” Maxwell’s face darkened, jaw clenching as he stepped into Rory’s space. “There’s a fucking dead body ten feet away from us. Show some goddamn respect, or I swear to god I’ll—” “Alright!” snapped Kit. “We’re moving out! Rory, assist Maxwell with body extraction. You follow his orders to the letter, or there’ll be consequences.”

The first taste hit my tongue and my eyes rolled back. That strange electricity I’d noticed before had intensified tenfold, crackling through me like storm clouds ready to burst. Pure ecstasy flooded my senses, a pleasure so intense it bordered on spiritual. This wasn’t mere sustenance—this was communion with something sacred.

“Why are you using that voice?” I said. “What voice?” “That come-hither-and-fuck-me voice.” Flynn broke into a shocked coughing fit.

“Look, if that’s what you’re hearing, that’s on you,” he said.

“You know, like sexy messages.” He was back to sounding like his usual, slightly awkward self, and my lips tugged into a smile. “Flynn—” “This is your fault. You’ve made me all hot and bothered by accusing me of using a come‑hither voice.”