Page 34 of Born Wicked

I take the one on the left, Roman the one on the right.

It’s incredible how natural I feel with my fangs extended. At times, it’s easy to forget that I am actually, truly a vampire. I deal with so much drama it’s easy to lose sight of the root cause for so much commotion.

But as my fangs extend, as toxins pool in my mouth, as my teeth pierce the man’s butter-soft flesh, I remember. I remember exquisitely.

Hot, coppery liquid hits my tongue. It fills my mouth. Blood slips down my throat, the most satisfying feeling in the world. The fire embraces the blood, it accepts it with eager anticipation, lustful and eager.

Pull. Pull.

I always want to pull more.

But what feels just a fraction of a second later, a hand clasps around my wrist. I let out a disappointed groan, but I do let go.

Roman pulls me two steps back, and I can’t help but watch as the two men begin to regain their senses.

“Do we need to call the Chicago PD?” Roman asks darkly. Damn. I kind of forgot how terrifying he is. Roman looks like the demon god of wrath.

“No…” one man mutters, still coming back to his senses from a foggy state. “We…”

“You guys should seriously lay off the drugs,” I say, wiping at the corner of my mouth and sucking a tiny bit of blood from my thumb. “I thought you two were basically dead when we walked in here.”

“Come on,” one of the men says to the other. “Don’t… don’t call the cops.”

“Better beat it then,” Roman says coldly.

I don’t know whether to feel like a horrible person or to laugh as we watch them run.

“Do you ever still feel guilty when you feed live?” I ask without thinking about it.

“Every damn time,” he admits, taking me completely by surprise.

We turn, and without making any kind of plan or agreement, we both start walking toward the hospital. “I always feel kind of guilty afterward, but during…?”

“Well, it seems you’re exactly like every other vampire in the history of existence,” Roman confesses. “I don’t know of any vampire who doesn’t lose their mind, just a little, while feeding.”

“Glad I’m not the only psychopath,” I say with a chuckle as we turn the corner, the hospital coming into view.

“Any luck with curing the gifted or the vampires?” Roman asks as we cross the street and walk down the block.

“We’re still trying to determine if this can be cured,” I say with a sigh. “The amount of lab work we’re running on everything is insane. Good thing Sebastian’s prices for care here are so high. We’re spending the yearly budget of a small country trying to get answers.”

We cross the last street, stepping onto the curb in front of the hospital.

Just down the road, I hear sirens and then see flashing lights as an ambulance turns onto the street.

My heart starts racing with adrenaline as the emergency room doctor in me kicks in. But I’m not scheduled to be in there today. Dev Roshan has been incredible, as is his daughter, our new nurse, Lily.

Roman and I head toward the front doors, but when the ambulance pulls up to the drivethrough, and a familiar voice catches my ears, I freeze.

“Car accident,” a deep voice says. “We were rear-ended by a delivery truck. He…”

Patrick.

My eyes rip to the side, and all of my internal organs disappear when I see a bloodied flash of blonde hair, when I see blood smeared over a suit. And then I see the cut and bruised face of the golden prince of Chicago.

“Mason!” his name erupts from my throat as I sprint in his direction. I’m there way too fast considering it’s only a few hours after morning rush hour. But my hand wraps around Mason’s, instantly covered with his blood.

“Juliet,” he says, his voice wispy and weak. His eyes flutter, and he can’t seem to focus on anything around him.

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