Page 42 of This Ravenous Fate
Confused, Layla watched until she saw the glazed-over look in the dancers’ eyes and her body tensed with realization. The scent of spoiled blood overwhelmed her senses. Rogue reapers. They were under what seemed to be a blood high, but their movements were more controlled. She threw herself between Shirley and the new dancers swarming the room. Shirley hissed at her, bloody spittle flying from her mouth.
Layla’s fangs sprung out on impulse, but she ignored the hunger gnawing at her and shoved Shirley toward the door. “Get out. Now.”
“Layla.” Elise’s voice rang out over the commotion.
In her rush to get Shirley out of the door, Layla couldn’t place Elise. She finally spotted her backed against a wall, eyes wide on the scene around her. Two of the gangsters had been attacked by Shirley, and more were being taken down by Giana and the rogue dancers who by far now outnumbered the gang members.
The remaining gangsters still in the fray trained their guns atGiana and the rogues. They hadn’t fired yet; without Saint bullets, they had to choose their shots more carefully. It was then that Layla realized Elise had no weapon. Her silver revolver was still clutched in Layla’s hand. Blood slicked over the handle, but Layla tightened her grip on it, then slid it across the floor to Elise.
Elise picked it up and aimed at the gangster in front of her. Before she could shoot, a dancer pounced on him. More dancers rushed right past her toward some other prey, but Layla was too focused on Elise to notice who it was. Until she heard Shirley scream.
Two dancers had gotten to Shirley, and their hands were digging into her chest. Nails tore through fabric and flesh, separating ribs until they cracked beneath the force of their voracity. Layla’s breath stopped. She could only watch, too far away to reach, as Shirley collapsed. Her mouth fell open in a horrified shriek, blood erupting from her chest and throat. Layla scrambled to stand, but she slipped on the gangsters’ blood and was forced to crawl. But Shirley was already gone. By the time the dancers broke away from her, her eyes were lifeless and trained on nothing.
Giana was the last to back away from Shirley. Layla’s heart skipped at the sight of her friend. She sat up, blood sliding between her fingers as she gasped. Not an ounce of recognition flashed through Giana’s unfocused eyes while she looked at Layla. A memory tore through Layla’s mind of the night Theo had attacked her. Only pure, undiluted rage crossed her expression, like it controlled her from the inside out.
“Giana,” Layla called. “This isn’t you.”
But Giana didn’t hear her. She lunged for Layla, arms outstretched and fangs bared. Layla braced herself to meet her with the same intensity, but they never collided.
The sound of a gun going off snapped them apart. Layla stared down in horror at the blood blooming across Giana’s chest. The older girl’s eyes finally seemed to focus, as if the pain brought her back to her senses. She looked at Layla, her face reflecting a hollow recognition that twisted Layla’s heart. “I’m sorry,” Giana whispered. Then she crashed to the floor.
One of the afflicted dancers tore her fangs from an unlucky gangster’s throat and dropped him to approach Giana’s body. Layla shoved the gangster’s corpse toward her, successfully tripping her and stalling her on the blood-slick floor. As she looked around, she noticed Jamie standing by, smoking gun in his hand. He glared. “You owe me.” Then he rushed out of the club.
Layla was so lost in her shock, she failed to realize that the rest of the room had gone silent. Bodies littered the floor, leaving only Elise and Layla standing. She crawled over to Giana’s fallen form. Her hands were reaching for her, shaking, when Elise’s voice turned her around. “Layla…”
She touched her back and Layla flinched. “Don’t touch me,” Layla seethed. Red covered her vision, her hunger-induced rage turning her blind to Elise’s reaction and everything around her. Layla pried a piece of bloody flesh from the chest of a nearby dead gangster and stumbled out of the club and into the alley.
Her chest was wound so tight, she worried it would snap at theslightest nudge. The blood in her fists grew less appetizing the farther it strayed from its original body. Layla craved something fresh and warm. Somethingliving. Nothing besides blood would calm the heat that ravaged her. And the longer she stood there, trying to breathe, the more dangerous it became for herself and those around her.
Or the only one around her.
Elise stood, her figure dark against the pale light at the end of the alley.
On instinct, Layla ran at her and slammed her into the alley wall. Elise’s breath left her body. The sweet scent of her blood was so close to Layla now, thriving and pulsing beneath her paper-thin skin. Layla traced a finger down her throat, feeling the beat of her pulse. Her fangs snapped out once again, ready to sink them into the weeping flesh in front of her.
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Elise had almost let her. She froze as Layla dropped her bloody arm to her side and closed the distance between them. Then the scent of blood was rushing Elise’s senses and she wrapped a gloved hand around Layla’s wrist, directing her to the dripping flesh still clutched in her fist. She watched as Layla drank the gangster’s heart dry. Layla crouched, spine curved, while she sank her teeth into the heart over and over. Watching Layla pull the thing from the dead gangster’s chest had been chilling, but that heart had saved Elise’s life. As Elise watched Layla lick the remaining blood from her hands, a part of her wondered if this whole arrangement had been a mistake.
Finally, when the heart was no more than a shriveled-up hunk of muscle, Layla stood. She dropped the scraps of her meal onto the ground and wiped blood from her face. It smudged around her mouth and fangs, making her look wild. A satisfied glint lit her eyes, the brown sparking with life for once.
While Layla watched her intently, Elise still felt the press of herfingers against her neck. A few minutes ago, her fangs had been snapping out, eyes glazed over with the intention of drinking straight from her. And Elise almost let it happen. The split second she had between shoving the heart into her mouth and watching Layla’s frenzy, Elise considered letting Laylasink her teeth into her. Layla had always had this captivating energy about her. It was what drew Elise to her in the first place. That vibrant, burning passion she held for life. Elise saw it when they played together, when Layla danced to Elise’s music; she even saw it when they fought as little girls. It seemed that no matter how much reaperhood had changed her, the essence of Layla remained.
She looked down at Layla now, mouth twisted with scorn. “You almost bit me.”
Layla crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at Elise. “You almostletme bite you. I would have loved to taste you. If your blood smells that good, it must taste heavenly.”
The words sent a chill up Elise’s spine. Suddenly, making eye contact with Layla became very hard, and she had to look away. “You’re obscene.”
“You can’t even look me in the eye when you accuse me,” Layla spat. Her voice spiraled around Elise, her tone weighted with possibility. Elise couldn’t help but wonder if reaper voices contained special properties, meant to allure listeners. She snapped her gaze to Layla’s and her heart skipped a beat at the tease in her eyes. “Tell me, Saint. There’s no one listening, no one watching. You don’t need to keep this act up.”
Elise’s breath caught. “It’s not an act.”
“Are you sure about that? You came after me despite me being ready to kill,” Layla hissed. She stepped up, her face so close to Elise, her nose almost brushed her throat. Elise went still. To allow someone at her neck like this was risky. But Elise didn’t care. For once, letting go of her responsibilities felt good, no matter the danger. “I remember little you ripping her stockings the second her mother left the room, and swapping her sheet music when the tutor wasn’t looking. You put on an act for everyone including yourself. But I see right through it.I see you,” Layla whispered.
The pounding in her chest intensified at Layla’s words, her proximity only aggravating the tension. Layla’s fingertips pressed into Elise’s sternum. When her palm laid flat against her racing heartbeat, Elise gripped her wrist. “Human blood makes you deranged. You seenothing,” she snapped.
Beneath her fingers, Elise felt Layla’s pulse quicken. Despite the chaos and the urgency of the club, Layla had still managed to distance herself from Elise when she was halfway to succumbing to her monstrous urges. Even now, with carnage following in their wake, Layla held her gaze as if Elise was the only thing in the world. With a gangster’s blood on her tongue, the reaper still drank in Elise’s presence.
