Page 46 of Dark Awakening

Emily's eyes go wide. "Oh my god, you didn't! Girl, tell me you did NOT have sex with Sir Stalks-a-Lot himself!"

I give her an exasperated eye roll. "Give me some credit! Of course not." Maybe she doesn’t need to know all the details.

Emily shakes her head in disbelief. "Look, I know it's been approximately a million years since you got some action. But letting your unhinged admirer become a booty call? That's a hard pass."

I let out an embarrassed groan but can't help an amused snort. "You literally have no filter, you know that?"

Emily waggles her eyebrows. "Nope, it's a part of my charm! But seriously, phone 911 next time that whack job shows up."

I know she means well under all the snark. With Emily's help, I'll find the courage to take control of this insane situation.

As Emily and I chat, a tall figure detaches from the shadows. My heart seizes as he comes into the light—head shaved bare, and every visible patch of skin is etched with spidery black tattoos. I smell the reek of death clinging to him even before he stops inches away.

"Well, well...aren't you a sweet little treat," he rasps. I recoil as he leans in, inhaling deeply with a grotesque grin. "Mmm...never smelled anything so delic—"

"Get away from me, you freak!" I yell, visceral anger overriding my fear. Emily shifts closer, ready to defend me.

The vampire's grin only widens, sending prickles of dread down my spine. "Such fire in this one! I think I'll take just a little nibble—"

He reaches for me, my heart dropping into my stomach. Before I can even think, I shove him back with all my strength. "What the fuck?—Back off, asshole!" I spit with false bravado, my hands trembling. "I’m not in the mood for your bullshit tonight."

He grabs my shoulders—and slams me back. The impact of granite against my spine explodes through me. All the air leaves my lungs. I’m pinned to the bar, the brute’s face inches from mine.

“Don’t you dare tell me no, bitch!” Spittle flies. I wince away from his rancid breath.

Emily screams at him. He whips around, backhanding her viciously. She crashes into the table behind her. Broken glass flies.

"Emily!" Through blurry tears, I watch her collapse.

He seizes my arms—his grip is iron shackles. I struggle wildly as he yanks me off the stool—digging my heels in, pulling with all my strength—but I'm useless.

I stop thinking. Clench my fist. Rear back with every ounce of rage burning through me. But just before my punch lands, a strange warmth floods my veins. I glance down, and shock paralyzes me—flickering flames are licking over my clenched knuckles. But adrenaline overrides my confusion, and I follow through, fueled by fiery fury.

Pain explodes in my hand as my flaming fist connects with his contorted face. The impact sends the vampire stumbling back with a bellow, blood gushing from his shattered nose. The flames wisping around my fingers vanish as quickly as they came.

There is no time to comprehend what just happened—the vampire's retaliation is coming swiftly.

I brace myself, ready to fight back with this dangerous, hidden strength I barely understand—my blood roars for justice.

He quickly looks just as confused as I am before the vampire's fist pulls back, knuckles whitening. Time slows to a crawl as I watch it come toward my face, bracing for the impact.

A deep growl comes in beside me, reverberating through the frozen moment. A dark blur shoots past my periphery and intercepts the blow midair.

The vampire howls as he's wrenched violently backward and lifted clean off his feet. In the span of a blink, his body soars, crashing down feet away.

My heart ricochets wildly as disbelief wars with astonished recognition. I take in my rescuer's sharp, rugged features—his piercing icy-blue eyes that seem to cut right through me. Thick, ink-black hair cropped short on the sides but longer and styled messily on top.

His muscular frame is encased in a tight black T-shirt stretched over his sculpted biceps. As he moves, the sleeves strain against ink-black tattoos that coat his arms from shoulder to wrist. Intricate symbols and patterns twist around his creamy skin.

I'm struck by his imposing height and powerful build—shoulders broad and strong, muscles rippling beneath his clothing as he crosses his arms. His presence fills the entire space, dominating the room with an undercurrent of leashed danger.

This is a man built for war—his body is a weapon, capable of both great violence and protectiveness in equal measure.

As his penetrating blue eyes meet mine, recognition floods through me—I've seen him before. In Lucian's office, I watched the security footage with him.

"Back off," his deep voice rumbles menacingly. "She's protected."

I feel the power radiating from him—the bar seems to shrink, the air humming with dangerous energy.

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