Page 21 of Dark Flame
Did the vampire just make a joke?
I glance over my shoulder and nearly trip on the next step at the sight of his lowered face, half masked by his hair, revealing a barely there smirk. He looks entirely roguish, andthatis the only nice thing I’ll ever allow myself to think about the asshole.
Halfway up the stairs, right when my legs are burning from the workout, he sighs. and I have a fairly good idea why.
“Not all of us are equipped with immortal energy, asshole.”
“You could at least attempt to walk faster.”
“Do youwantme to fall and break my neck?”
We’re close to the top of the steps, and this might be my best chance. If the change can happen on a staircase, surely that’ll make it easier to get rid of him. He’ll be weak and easy to kick down.
I reposition the pointy rock into my palm, squeezing tight to dig in and—Fuck, this hurts like a bitch.
What the vampire has in store for me will hurt more, which becomes my motivation to keep going. No matter what, though, my skin refuses to break. Maybe I didn’t make it sharp enough…maybe my body’s natural protective instincts are taking over and not allowing me to push it in as much as it needs to.
I stagger on the next step, which gives me an idea, and since we’re only two from the top, it’s now or never. For the next one, I purposely trip myself by not lifting my leg as high while simultaneously tightening my grip on the rock. When I land, knee on one step, palms catching me on another, there’s an instant sting, the rock successfully making a slice.
The vampire sighs again and mutters something about witches being no better than humans. Except humans are completely powerless, while I’m not.
I lift my bloodied hand, slowly unpeeling the fingers to check the injury; a small slice about half an inch long. Just enough for blood to seep from it.
I straighten and turn towards the vampire, readying myself for what I hope will be my final interaction with him. He catches the scent of my blood almost immediately, black eyes dart to my injured hand, his nostrils flaring with his intake of breath—of my scent.
Before he realizes what I’m doing, I push my sliced palm against his mouth, ensuring enough of the blood stains his lips, knowing it’s likely enough when the tip of his fang grazes my hand. It’s sharp like a knife, and I’m momentarily stricken by that alarming fact.
But that’s all the thought I give before twisting back around and taking off up the final two steps. Although I’ve never witnessed the transition from vampire to human, I have a vague enough idea how it works. A few drops, and within a moment or two, the transition will start. I’ve always been mildly curious in a masochistic way, and even though this is probably my only chance to witness it, I don’t stick around.
Nine
ALEC
That fucking witch.She isn’t that stupid?
I touch my lips, wiping away drops of her blood, seeing them stain the tips of my fingers.
She is. She fuckingis.
I spit whatever blood I can out, praying my body ingested very little. But still, it doesn’t change the fact I’ve officially tasted the witch; the one whose blood smells like temptation brought to life.
She tastes fuckingdivine, like I first assumed. My hunger amps up, my vision turning red with bloodlust. I may have drank only hours before stalking her house, but Sinclair has me feeling like I haven’t eaten in a month. Like I’ve been starving myself and she’s the answer. Theneedto drink and to never stop.
Hunt.
Chase.
Feed.
Fuck.
It all switches on, which confirms one thing: her little plan failed. I’m not mortal. Since only my tongue got a small taste, I assume my system didn’t absorb enough to trigger the change. Even so, that minor lick was enough for my every sense to attune to her.
In the half a second of lucidity before I’m completely taken over, I think, admittingly with a bit of admiration, that she’s the only Sinclair to try to ever change me to get free. Her plan was clever, and disconcerting for me that I hadn’t suspected she’d do something like this.
Hunt.
Instantly, I’m at the top of the stairs, staring down the long, stone hallway lined with tapestries and stained-glass windows. She’s almost at the end, near the foyer, where her chance of escape is. Her breaths come out in rapid succession, her heartbeat so impossibly loud. She’s more scared now than when she was running through her neighbourhood, probably because sheknows. She knows what she’s done, the monster she’s enticed.
