Page 32 of Pretty Poisoned

"Can't you feel it?" she asks. "Can't you see how it makes things different? Pay attention, Teagan. Try to give in to it, and then you'll get it. Don't you feel just a little more aware of your surroundings than usual?"

She brushes my hair over one shoulder and runs a finger up the side of my neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Are your thoughts just a little bit clearer?"

"Yeah," I tell her. "I think. Maybe."

"Look around. Turn off that part of your brain that's telling you that this is all just a bunch of fucking weirdos playing vampire. See and feel what's inside you, in front of you, and around you."

I look back at her over my shoulder. "How did you know that's what I was thinking?"

"Because that's what Riv thought at first, too."

"Really?" I ask.

She nods.

"You know, in many cultures, drinking blood was thought to be a cure-all for the spirit—a cleansing for all the things that ail you but no one can see…the ones that live in your bones."

"I have a few of those…" I say.

"Come on, let's go join the party," River says.

Hazel jumps down from the counter and leads me back into the main living room with her arm nestled in the crook of Layla's.

Layla, with her sad, dead eyes, pale grey skin, and stained red lips, moves lifelessly through the throng of people. Her makeup looks like an accident—like she did her best to go through the motions but didn't quite get it right, and now, it looks more like a mask than it should. Even the way she moves looks unnatural; it's as if someone else is pulling the strings and making her do it when all she wants to do is curl up in a ball on the floor.

Fuck. Maybe my perception is heightened.

I look around the darkened room and through the sea of bodies—some bare and some bloodied, most moving with the music and gyrating on all sides of me. The room is filled to the brim with sex. I try to do what Hazel said and feel it instead of thinking about it, and I do. I feel like I'm wading through it, swimming it in.

The room has a pulse, and I feel the shift in vibration.

Either that, or I'm just as crazy as they are.

River turns to me with a glass in each hand and extends one to me. I take it, relieved when I see only clear liquid inside, then bring it to my mouth. I taste smooth gin on my tongue and quickly drain the contents.

Then, I let her take me by the hand, and we dance. I don't know for how long; I lose track of space and time, spinning in circles, grabbing shot glasses and more fruit slices soaked in blood and vodka from trays around the room.

And then I'm light-headed. I'm fairly certain I'm something other than drunk.

"Enjoying yourself?" Declan says from behind me.

"I'm…I'm not sure." I look from him back to where the girls were only seconds ago, and now Layla's there alone. I watch her float across the room in that unnatural, heavy way before dropping down into a high-backed chair. "Did you drug me?"

"I didn't give you anything, did I?" he asks. "This is the first time I've seen you all night."

It's evasive. I don't tell him that.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he says. His tone is light for once, and it catches me off guard. "Something real."

"What's in it for me?"

"I gave you three questions last night. Maybe this is just for me. Maybe you owe me, and this is such a small thing, don't you think?"

"I'm thinking about drugs now," I tell him. "You were wrong, by the way. Attention isnotmy drug of choice; I don't care about that. And I'm thinking about the series of accidents that landed me here and trying to figure out what I missed." I turn away from him and back to that high-backed chair. "And Layla. I'm thinking about Layla. I'm not sure there's anyone in there anymore. She's your family, right? Don't you care?"

His eyes shift again, and his jaw clenches. Oh, shit. I said all of that out loud, didn't I? Why the fuck would I do that?

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