Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 72056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
For a second, I envy him. I’d settle for mouse blood at this point, though the thought nauseates me as much as it intrigues me.
What’s wrong with me? Why do I crave—
I inhale. A man. He’s recently eaten, and he’s here. Somewhere in this alleyway. His heart. It beats slow and steady. He’s full.
I’m not.
My nose leads me behind a dumpster. He’s asleep.
Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. His carotid beckons, pulsing in his neck.
No. No, Hannah! No!
My fangs are ready, dripping, aching to plunge into flesh.
I venture closer, closer, closer…
I’m kneeling above him now, the pulse in his neck urging me on.
Take it. Take it. Take it.
My lips curl, and my mouth drops open.
6
I lower myself, and—
The flesh is soft beneath my tongue, and the blood… It flows into me and through me, giving me strength and sustenance.
It’s warm and sweet, laced with testosterone and the spiciness of the burrito he recently ate.
Stop!
I withdraw, licking his wounds closed. He’s still sleeping, thank God. I haven’t taken enough to harm him.
No need for mind control. He didn’t even wake up.
I stand, ready to face the world.
Once again, the blood lust is satisfied.
But not the hunger.
Damn!
“I’m sorry,” I say softly to the man.
I’ve violated him, and for what? My hunger still exists. My only solace is that he’ll never know what was done to him.
Never again, Hannah.
Yet I understand now. I understand why vampires become addicted to fresh blood—its warmth, its flavor, its intensity.
“You bitch,” I say under my breath. Then I turn to leave my victim in peace.
“Not so fast, sweetheart.”
I jerk when someone grabs me. The chill of a blade presses into my neck.
Damn! I let my guard down. Let myself feel guilt for taking blood from a living being. And now—
I lift my thigh and execute a back kick, freeing myself from the assailant. His blade slices into me, a searing pain on the side of my neck. But it’s a shallow cut—one that won’t slow me down.
Vamp vision is good. Usually. In the midst of all the traits bestowed on me that I don’t want, I didn’t inherit that one. Still, I hear the distinct heartbeats of not one but three individuals. They’re pumping quickly. Adrenaline is surging—in them and in me. Testosterone is abundant. They’re all men.
My vision adjusts, and I make out the forms. All taller and wider than I am. That’s okay. I’ve taken on many a man in the Taekwondo sparring ring and emerged victorious.
I’ve never taken on three men at once, though.
The guy who first attacked me is panting. I knocked a good wind out of him, but he’ll regain his breath eventually. The other two circle me. The one to the right’s heart is thumping faster. He’s frightened. Good. I’ll take the one on the left first. He’s more of a challenge and more of threat.
I race toward him, jumping into the air and executing two front snap kicks to his chest. He lands on the ground with an oof and a “fucking bitch!”
I take the few seconds I have to turn and roundhouse kick the other in the face.
Shit. The third guy—the one with the blade—has regained his composure. He advances on me, and I turn and swiftly take down his shoulder with an axe kick. He falls to his knees.
But I can’t see all of them at once, and out of nowhere, a fist punches my cheek with a thud.
It’s the third guy, the one who’s frightened.
Not so frightened anymore. I sway but hold my ground. Adrenaline minimized any pain. I land an uppercut to his jaw and turn swiftly, but a kick lands on my abdomen.
I double over, grunting at the dull ache, but I keep my neck tilted upward so as not to lose my line of sight.
Two. Two of them are circling me, coming in for the kill. Where’s the other? Where the fuck—
“Aauugghhh!” I fall to the ground.
A blow to my back.
Stand up, Hannah. Get the fuck up!
But another blow comes, this one to my head.
I widen my eyes, stars dancing around my vision.
Get. The. Fuck. Up.
I pull up one knee, and then the other… Can’t make them work. Can’t stand.
Yes, yes, you can.
Both knees have weight now. I’m in a squat, bracing myself for the next blow.
It doesn’t come.
Finally I manage to rise. Two of the thugs are on the ground, unconscious. The other is in a fist fight with—
I don’t need to squint to make out his form.
My nose tells me exactly who it is.
Leather. Pine. Wolf.
Victor Rogan.
I no longer hear the blood rushing through the other three. Only Victor’s blood rivering in his veins hits my ears.
Need to help him. Need to…
I fall to the hard ground once more.
I grit my teeth and rise again, my cheek, belly, and back aching. Blood trickles from my neck wound. I’ll be bruised tomorrow. Only my speed and prowess in Taekwondo saved me this evening, and those weren’t ultimately enough.