Page 46 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

I forced the possessive thought away.The product of bloodlust and adrenaline.

A flicker of movement in my periphery drew my attention. A couple further down the marina promenade, walking this way. I had to act quickly. As gently as possible, I flung Eliza’s body over the railing and onto the deck of the nearest yacht.

She hit the boat with a slap, the waves lapping against the vessel as it rocked in the water.

I was absolutely covered in Eliza’s gore. As disgusting as the idea was, if Flynn wasn’t there, I might have been tempted to lick some from my ruined clothes. While not as substantial as human blood, it would certainly do in a pinch.

And Iwasstarving, the kind of gnawing emptiness that couldn’t be ignored, as much as I wished to.

My gaze flickered to where Flynn huddled against the railing, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He was staring at the mangled corpse facing upward on the deck, a look of abject horror etched across his features.

The couple drew closer, and I had to resist snapping at Flynn to act natural. If they noticed anything amiss, I’d have to resort to my psychic influence—a subtle mind trick that would alter the last few minutes of their memories, compel them swiftly on their way.

Thankfully, Flynn seemed to register the approaching couple through his shock. He mechanically adopted a casual position, though his eyes remained glazed and distant.

Once we were in the clear, he let out a ragged, choked sound that seemed torn from somewhere deep within him. His entire body trembled visibly, his knees appearing to barely support his weight.

“I think this time, I might actually have a panic attack,” he whispered.

“Flynn…” I took a tentative step forward, hands raised in a pacifying gesture. I wanted nothing more than to go to him, to wrap him in my arms and shield him from this nightmare he’d been plunged into against his will. To reassure him that despite my horrific actions, I would never allow harm to come to him. 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.”

Ouch.That sounded harsh to my own ears. I bit the inside of my cheek, panic rising.

“Right.” Flynn laughed hollowly.

“Please…” I half rasped, hands trembling at my sides. What was I so afraid of? “Let me take you back to Killigrew Street, once Kit arrives to help. We can talk more there.”

Flynn didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained locked on the grisly mess on the yacht, his expression vacant, as if part of him had retreated somewhere far away from this horror.

After what felt like an eternity, he gave the smallest of nods. I wanted to collapse with relief, but held myself rigid.

Through the reek of Eliza’s blood, another scent cut through—sweeter, more tempting. The forbidden fruit, a mere metre from me.

“You’re bleeding,” I whispered.

For one horrible second, I thought Eliza might have succeeded in getting her fangs into him, but then he turned to face me, tilting his face up. Across one side of his chin was a light graze.

“I…” he started, then seemed to lose his train of thought, his hand rising to touch the wound as if just becoming aware of it. “It’s just a scratch.”

I couldn’t help it. My hand shot out, my thumb gently swiping across the length of his wound. I half expected him to flinch away from me, but instead he kept quite still.

The blood on my thumb sang to me, a siren’s call. The hunger coiled within me like a serpent, hissing and ravenous, desperate to be sated.

I shouldn’t have even considered it. I should’ve wiped it on my coat. Flynn had just witnessed me tear another vampire apart. His heart still thundered with fear, his breath coming in short gasps. What would he think of this?

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