Page 32 of Undying
I must have run over a group of nuns in my past life, and karma is making me her bitch. Every time I think things can’t get worse, somehow, they do.
It’s not until Milo runs a finger along my jaw in a light caress that I blink and come back to the present. I can’t look away from the earnestness in his eyes. He one hundred percent believes what he just said.
Hatred fills my chest, memories of everything I suffered flashing through my mind, and I rip myself away from him, not willing to allow his nearness to affect me. “What if I don’t want to stop the war? Maybe vampires don’t deserve to live. Do you ever think that the world might be better off without them?”
Milo’s expression falls, and I feel like I just kicked a puppy. Something in my chest twinges, but I refuse to let myself feel guilty.
I owe them nothing.
“All the fucking time,” the barbarian mutters, and I jolt, then the tension in my shoulders eases a fraction when he shoots me a rueful look. “Unfortunately, the world exists in a delicate balance. I figured this out the hard way. As much as I hate to admit it, Milo is correct. I’ve tried to eradicate vampires over the centuries, and things never go as planned.”
He grimaces, like the very idea of keeping vampires around is distasteful.
And I completely agree.
I drum my fingers against my thigh, then scowl at the feel of the paper-thin material scratching against my skin. Hissing in annoyance, I glare at the assholes positioned around the room. “I refuse to discuss anything further until you give me adequate clothing.”
Before I even finish speaking, Castle reaches over his shoulder, grabs the back of his shirt, and drags it over his head. Without a word, he hands it to me, but all I can do is stare.
Because holy fucking shirtballs.
The man is glorious.
Muscles are stacked upon muscles in a way that has my fingers twitching to trace them. His skin is pale, which should make him appear less masculine, but that isn’t the case.
If anything, it’s the opposite.
He looks like he’s sculpted out of pure marble.
Dirty white hair falls around his shoulders in disarray, the dark roots making me want to tangle my fingers into the messy strands. A smattering of hair is scattered across his chest, the seductive path trailing lower before it disappears into his pants.
A throat clears…roughly…loudly…and I nearly jump out of my skin. I blink, then shake my head and peer around the room in confusion.
And grimace when I realize I’ve been caught drooling over a man. I snatch the shirt, then whirl and give them my back. I fist the paper scrubs in my hand and yank, the material easily parting under my grip.
As I drag Castle’s shirt over my head, his scent envelops me, and it’s like every nerve ending flares to life. My fangs throb, and I know without a doubt that it was his blood I consumed in the second bag.
Memories of his hands skating over my body assaults me, and gooseflesh spreads over every inch of my flesh, the sensations so evocative, my skin feels electrified. I rub my arms in the guise of smoothing down the shirt and struggle to gather my wits.
As I tear away the flimsy paper pants, I wait for their snide comments.
It’s only after I tug down the bottom of his shirt, which falls well below my knees, that I become aware of the absolute silence behind me. My spine stiffens, and I’m almost afraid to turn and face them. I have enough bullshit on my plate, and I’m not really sure I can handle more without losing my shit.
And now that I’m a vampire—no, wait, a fledgling—I don’t have the luxury of losing control, or I risk being put down like some rabid animal.
Not to mention, I now have the ability to kill them if my rage takes over before I can curb the impulse.
Yes, I can admit, if only to myself, that I’m a bit…unstable.
Unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of time. Learning how to control my baser urges is going to be an uphill battle. Then there is the matter of learning how to become a ruthless, bloodsucking monster, and I do a full body skeevy dance at the thought.
I debate my options—sold to the highest bidder, or held prisoner for the rest of my life.
Neither sounds appealing.
No, if I want to find a way out of this mess, I need to get my shit together.
Inhaling deeply and pushing away their intoxicating scents, I whirl to face them.
