Page 40 of Sleepless Beauties
I sigh and look away from his hard jawline and overly defined Adam’s apple. Since when did Adam’s apples become so damn sexy?
When I became brainwashed.
Clearly.
I step out, gaining a few feet of space between me and my sister’s tormenter. Then I study him for a few solid seconds.
He’s six foot something. Lean muscle tone, but that means nothing to a supernatural creature with more power than any childhood superhero. What sticks out the most… is his band tee-shirt and scuffed black and white sneakers.
They say the worst monsters live among us in plain sight. Do they all wear tattered Riverdales tee-shirts and tattered skinny jeans too?
“People are dying here,” I say casually.
His head bobs up. He eyes me skeptically, and suddenly it’s a contest of who the real suspect is.
Shit!
What if I’m the monster, and Aston is nothing more than a lost man searching for his own feelings?
Too gross to consider.
That can’t be right.
“The High Council of Crimson City has been dropping like flies,” he says more harshly than I would have expected. “Croft Four, Victoria Korven, Along with her assistant Rosalie Thames. And my own assistant just late last year. All three were disembodied slaughters of sex and blood. I’ve heard it’s happening all over Chicago as well.” His lips are curled as he looks at me, but not with that boyish charm he had just seconds ago.
But like a monster who truly does have hate hidden deep in his soul.
My stomach turns with disgust.
Something else keeps circling my mind.
“How did Victoria and Rosalie die?”
His jewel-like gaze searches mine. His teeth are bared far more than necessary, but he does answer the question.
“Just like the seven other human women this year. They were raped so brutally, Rosalie’s right leg was detached from her body. Her neck was fed on so hard that her head was only attached by a tiny scrap of flesh. Victoria was in worse shape, we could barely recognize her. The human women got it far worse than that even.”
This man’s feelings, violence and kindness alike are a whirlwind of emotions. I don’t think he even realizes it.
It’s getting to me more and more as I speak with him.
A dampness stings my eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if my sister suffered the same fate. But I can’t ask a suspicious vampire how I died, now can I?
A deep flood of feelings drowns me all at once, and I look up again to find tears streaking down Aston’s face. My hand lifts, and wetness meets my fingertips as I touch my cheek.
“You’re crying, Kyra Vega,” he whispers on a heavy breath.
I shove past him, my shoulder knocking his as I go.
“So are you,” I whisper right back.
Fifteen
Kira
I busy myself inside the small library in a chair that provides me with the perfect view of the staircase in the hall that leads down to the crofts.
One by one throughout the day, the vampires slowly descend to their coffins. Prey waits annoyingly just outside of the library door, like the perfect assistant and mate.
