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)
But she’s so fucking beautiful that all I can do is watch her fuck me until the pressure becomes too much for both of us. We come, our cries and moans filling the air, before we collapse together in a shaking heap on the bed, the sheets damp with sweat.
We lay there tangled for a long while, breathing in sync. Her head rests on my chest and I trace circles on her bare shoulder. It’s quiet except for cars honking somewhere outside.
“This feels good,” I say, my voice low, as if I’m afraid to disturb the peace. “This feels really good.”
“Mmmm,” she murmurs, almost purring like a cat. My kitten. My Lena.
The truth is, it feels more than good. In a world where I see the rot beneath the shiny veneer—the corrupted officials, the blood money flowing through nightclubs, vampires and serial killers and the hollow smiles of people desperate to forget the war we lived through—I feel as if I’ve finally found something good. Like Lena is something pure and precious and mine.
And I don’t want to lose her.
I can’t.
The thought of it makes my heart feel like it’s been torn to shreds.
Yesterday I could have lost her. The Ivanov girls could have killed either of us, we were that vulnerable, that malleable. And maybe it should relieve me to know that they didn’t, that no matter what they wanted us for, they didn’t kill us or harm us. Just gave us a few orgasms and sent us on our way.
Yet I have a feeling in my gut, one that says that this was just a trial, just a test, and the next time we won’t be so lucky. Luck doesn’t exist anymore.
“What blood type are you?” I ask her.
“Hmmm?” she raises her head to look at me, her hair spilling over one eye. “My blood type? I don’t know. Why?” She frowns, reading my face. “You don’t think…”
“Don’t know what I think anymore, but if you were AB negative…”
“If I was AB negative, they wouldn’t have let me leave the mansion, would they? If they’re behind the killings, they would have kept me.”
She’s right about that. Still, I want her to figure it out. Would make me feel better.
“I should call Norma,” I say, reluctantly getting out from under her. “Check in at the office. Let her know I’m alive.”
I retrieve the telephone from the nightstand and dial the office number, expecting to get Norma’s familiar greeting. Instead, she answers with a frantic, “Victor?”
“It’s me,” I confirm. “Everything alright?”
“Where have you been?” she demands, her voice a mix of relief and irritation. “I’ve been calling everywhere looking for you.”
“Long story. What’s happening?”
“There’s been another murder. A woman found near Echo Park, same M.O. as the others. Throat cut, body drained of blood. Not bisected this time, but Coleman says it’s definitely connected.”
My grip tightens on the receiver. “When?”
“Last night. Body was discovered early this morning by a jogger.”
Last night. While Lena and I were at the Ivanovs’ mansion, drugged and manipulated, another woman was being slaughtered as part of their ritual.
“Coleman’s at the morgue now,” Norma continues. “Said to tell you to meet him there if I heard from you.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Callahan?” Her voice drops, concern evident. “Be careful. Coleman says this is bigger than anyone realizes.”
“I know. Thanks, Norma.”
I hang up and look at Lena, who’s watching me with worried eyes. “Another murder,” I tell her. “Last night. Same M.O.”
“While we were at the mansion,” she says softly.
“I need to go to the morgue. Meet Coleman.”
“I understand.”
“I need you to come with me.”
“To the morgue? That’s quite the date, Callahan.”
“I’d be a fool to leave you alone.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can, but I’m not taking any chances.”
Separating now would be foolish. Dangerous. And despite everything rational in me saying I should keep her at arm’s length—for her safety as much as my sanity—I can’t deny the selfish relief I feel at not having to let her out of my sight.
“Don’t make me compel you,” I add in a mock threat.
“The only thing that compels me is your dick,” she says, making me laugh.
We dress quickly. I’m grateful for the clean clothes I find folded on a chair—Lena must have brought a bag from my apartment. As I button my shirt, I catch her watching me in the mirror, her expression unreadable.
“What?” I ask.
She shakes her head slightly. “Just…trying to reconcile all the different versions of you I’ve seen. The detective. The man. The vampire.”
“Yeah? And which one do you prefer?”
Her eyes meet mine in the reflection. “They’re all you, Callahan. All parts of the same whole. And I don’t want just one piece. I want it all.”
Something shifts between us in that moment—an acknowledgment of the bond that’s been forming since the night we met. Despite the danger, despite the complications, despite the monster inside me I’m still learning to control, she sees me.