Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
I step closer, circling him slowly. My adrenaline is off the charts as I smell his fear. “Something like that.”
“Look, I have money. A lot of it. Offshore accounts. I can make you rich.”
“Rich? I don’t need money,” I say, kneeling to meet his eyes. “I just need what’s in your veins.”
Confusion clouds his features, then understanding as my fangs descend. The typical human reaction follows—first disbelief, then terror as they confront something their rational mind can’t accept.
“This isn’t happening,” he whispers. “This isn’t real.”
But it is, and some primal part of him knows it. Fear floods his system with chemicals, making his heart pound faster, pushing his blood through his veins with greater force. The sound of it fills my ears, a drumbeat I can’t ignore.
I’ve only fed from the willing in this place. The rapist I murdered was the only non-willing one I’ve had.
But tonight, with Betty’s murder and Marco’s threats and the Europeans lurking in the shadows, I need my full strength. And a small, dark part of me whispers that this man deserves whatever comes to him.
My teeth break his skin before I can second-guess myself again.
The first taste hits me like lightning. It’s life itself flowing into me, hot and vital and electric. Every cell in my body responds, awakening, strengthening. A gasp escapes me, muffled against his neck.
I meant to be careful. To take just enough. To maintain that last thread of my humanity by showing restraint. I don’t have to be the one that ends his life, I can just take what I need.
But the blood awakens something primal, something I’ve kept caged and starving for too long. Each swallow demands another. Each mouthful stokes rather than sates my hunger. My hands grip tighter, my body pressing against his as I drink deeper, faster.
It’s only when there’s nothing left that I finally release him, stumbling backward as his body slumps to the floor.
Blood is smeared over my mouth, my chin, has somehow splashed onto my robe despite my precautions. I stare at what I’ve done, at the empty shell that was once a man. A monster, yes, but I’m one too.
The door opens quietly, and Abe steps in, taking in the scene with a glance.
“You needed that,” he says simply. “How do you feel?”
And that’s the most terrifying part. I feel wonderful. Strong. Alive. The constant ache of hunger that’s been my companion for so long has finally quieted. My senses are sharper, my reflexes quicker. Power courses through me, setting every nerve ending alight.
“I killed him,” I whisper, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Yes. As we intended.” Abe steps closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t waste guilt on men like him, Lena. Save it for those who deserve your compassion. Now, clean up and change. Then come upstairs and join us for some wine. Valtu brought us a good vintage. 1700s.”
As I wash the blood from my skin, I catch my reflection in the small mirror above the basin. My eyes seem brighter, my skin more vibrant. The woman looking back at me is stronger, more powerful.
More dangerous.
Which is what I need to be going forward.
12
LENA
The living room erupts in thunderous applause. Well, as much as it can when you’re performing with another vampire to an audience of three.
“Bravo,” Valtu says from the piano, grinning up at me as he trails his long fingers over the keys with flourish. “You did good, kid.”
“As did you,” I say, taking a little bow. We just finished a simple rendition of “Embraceable You,” which we both pulled off better than I thought. Not that I doubted the Dracula’s musical skills, but because the notes of the song are very low, I wasn’t sure I could make it sound good. But human blood does a wonder on you.
“Here,” Abe says, filling up my glass of red wine and handing it to me. “You deserve to relax after that.”
I take it from him and have a dainty sip. “I should watch myself,” I say, even though it takes an awful lot to get us drunk because of our metabolism. “Need to drive back home.”
“You’re staying the night,” Abe insists, in a way that I know I can’t argue with him. “Please. Now come, sit down. We have a lot to talk about. I know you didn’t just come here to feed.”
He guides me to the couch and sits me down. The fog still wraps around the deck and the floor-to-ceiling windows, making us look enveloped in another world.
Valtu stays where he is on the piano bench, lighting a cigar, while Adonis hands him a Scotch in a squat glass before making his way over to the sectional adjacent to me, where Ezra is already sitting.
Abe perches on the couch beside me, hand on my thigh in an encouraging way, leaning forward with sympathy etched on his fair face. “I’m sorry to hear about your friend,” Abe says. “Elizabeth Short. What a horrible thing that happened to her.”