Page 40 of This Ravenous Fate
Jamie lifted his hands in deference. “Fine.” He nodded to the back room and sighed. “Calhoun won’t be in for a few minutes, but you should probably wait out the time in there so no one sees you. Especially don’t let anyone seeher,” he spat while pointing to Elise. “We’ve got enough tension in the club without a Saint spawn lurking around.”
Elise gave him a nasty look.
“What about Giana and Shirley—” Layla started.
“Not here. Not my problem either,” Jamie huffed. “Go look for them if you want, but I already did you a favor.” He walked off.
Layla could only glare after him. Her nerves began to cool once she and Elise were alone in one of the backstage rooms of the club, where they’d hoped to find the two dancers. Being around humans was never easy. Their blood seemed to tease her at every chance it got, its scent haunting her, the sound of it rushing through veins amplified with every conversation.
As a reaper, getting upset was an easy thing to do, but a tough situation to come back from. Layla couldn’t remember the number of times she had failed her impulse training. Valeriya had gotten her rats to start out with for feeding because there were so many in the city and“if you kill one, no one will know; if you kill one hundred, the city will probably start to thank you.”Layla ended up killing close to one hundred rats while Valeriya tested her. It was bad for everynew reaper—nearly impossible most times. Every time Layla trained under voluntary starvation, she imagined the rat’s tangy blood seeping between her teeth and their tiny bones cracking with the slightest pressure from her jaw. Her whole life, Layla had been warned against crime and taught that murder was the worst thing a person could do. She believed killing was an act of defiance so great, there was no coming back from it.
But since becoming a reaper, that idea had dissipated almost immediately.
Killing was easy. It was resisting the temptation that felt impossible.
Layla pricked the tip of her thumb with her fang and swallowed a few drops of her own blood. It was nowhere near as effective as drinking from another reaper would have been, but it helped to ground her. And that was all she could ask for right now.
“Layla—” Elise’s hand on her shoulder felt like an electric current.
Layla snatched herself away from Elise and scowled at her. “Don’t you know not to touch a reaper when they’re on the edge?” It came out as more of a hostile demand than a question. Layla was glad when Elise shrank back and lowered her hand. Her hunger was so palpable at this point, she could imagine the urges forcing her hand. A swift grab of the Saint’s wrist and Layla could tug her down and have her mouth at her throat. The blood would be sweet, just as the Saint heiress smelled, but it would be wrong—beyond that. Layla’s fangs poked into her gums and she groaned slightly. She touched a Saint and she would be dead. But thethrill… Her fangs pierced hergums, spilling her own blood into her mouth.
“I just had a thought,” Elise began slowly. Her dark eyes clouded over with something unrecognizable. “Maybe we should keep an eye on the club from both sides, human and reaper. It will be easy since my father is involved here. And Mr. Wayne is getting involved so there could be an opportunity to ask him about the lab.”
“Are you going to tell your father about the reapers that work here?” Layla breathed weakly. Her limbs felt heavy, muscles exhausted from working without being sufficiently fed. She swallowed hard, hot breath sticking in her throat.
Elise’s lips twitched. “No, I…I wouldn’t do that to Shirley.”
Layla held her stare, but Elise looked away. “If your father works with the club, why does Jamie not trust the Saints?”
“I don’t think my father has made his investment in the club public knowledge. It doesn’t exactly look good to work for a place like this. But it makes a lot of money for the community. Though he does hate gangsters,” Elise said.
“But he uses them for buying liquor, too, I’m guessing. The dichotomy of wanting to live and wanting to be respected. It never ends here.” A sour taste filled Layla’s mouth. Money. Power. Notability. Why did anyone do anything these days if not to gain something, even if it meant isolating yourself and damning your morals? Layla could almost see herself in their mirror of sins. She ground her teeth in frustration.
Layla leaned against the wall and carefully slid down into a sitting position. Her heart was still racing, each beat sending a jolt throughher body. The thought of blood consumed her. When she closed her eyes, it was all she saw; when she inhaled, it was all she smelled. And when Elise opened her mouth, it was all Layla could do to not—
Her eyes flew open. Elise stood over her, watching her with curious eyes, her hands on her hips. “You look feral.”
Layla’s fangs had emerged again and they dug into her lips. “I’m hungry,” Layla muttered. All she could smell was Elise and the blood rushing through her veins. Today she had come too close. And when Layla could smell blood through flesh, she knew she had gone too long without feeding.
Elise didn’t back away. A flash of fear lit her eyes for an instant, but then she was kneeling in front of Layla, her brown irises warm in the soft light. “You should probably go home, right? I should worry about you tearing my throat out. What really happens when a reaper does not feed on enough human blood? Do they truly turn into a demon with no recollection of their human past?”
Layla groaned. Now her focus was on Elise’s throat, her pulse humming against her delicate skin. Should Layla sink her fangs into Elise’s jugular, blood would explode into her mouth like water from a fountain. The thought made saliva pool in her mouth. Layla looked away, urging herself to concentrate on something else. “Stop.”
“I know you’re bound by a Saint agreement to leave humans alone. But surely you slip up occasionally. Animal blood cannot be that satisfactory,” Elise said. She cocked her head to one side, a tiny smile forming on her lips.
“Sure it can,” Layla muttered.
Elise lifted a brow. “Perhaps you are already transitioning from reaper to demon,” she said. Feigned fascination coated her words, and it took a considerable effort for Layla to not lunge forward and rip out her vocal cords just to shut her up. “Oh my God, you’re so upset.” Elise almost laughed.
A sharp breath left Layla’s chest. “I’msoclose to tearing into your throat,” she muttered. Her eyes dipped to the soft curve of Elise’s throat leading to her collarbones. The dress she wore had a scooped neckline and in this moment, Layla both damned it and thanked it. Being close to the Saint was torture, having a sensory overload of every part of her, the suppleness of her skin, the sweetness of her blood, and not being able to indulge in any of it. What she would give to run her tongue along her throat just to feel her pulse quicken—to know if she felt that same thrill.
Elise’s lips parted. Her eyes traveled over Layla’s face, hesitating on the blood smeared across her lips. “I don’t like how you look at me,” she murmured.
Elise finally moved back. But she kept poking at Layla with her words while she paced the room, eyes roaming over the rehearsal piano, the dusty furniture, and the cloudy mirrors. “What’s it like when you hunt? Is there a certain body part you like best? An organ that contains the most nutrients? The easiest way to get the most blood?”
Layla shifted uncomfortably. “I thought this made you squeamish.”
“It does.” Elise turned an icy look on to Layla, her eyes lightingup when she saw Layla’s discomfort. “But it’s worth it if I get to makeyousquirm for once.”
