Page 31 of Tears of Revenge

“And you were a fucking idiot, Varos. First you saved her, then you let her back into your lives, and now you’ve turned her into a blood-sucking beast without her consent. Still think I’m the rude one here?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Yet here we are. You could’ve held her until her last breath, made sure she was comfortable in her last moments. Perhaps you could have even shown her that her murderer wouldn’t survive either. But no, you had to sink your goddamn fangs into her and pump her with your fucking venom!”

“Leave him be,” Marcus interjected.

“Go to hell.”

“I thought we established that we all were already there, only that they refurbished it a little.” Marcus gave an ominous laugh.

“Great. Now you’ve dragged an innocent woman down with you.”

Movement by the door caught their attention. Avalon stood there, barely covered by a black towel that made her look even paler. Her gaze flickered between the three of them, bloody tears threatening to fall.

“I-I…” she stuttered. “I don’t have clothes.”

He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

Varos stood, retaining his human speed as he crossed the space and took her hand. “I’m sure we can find you something to wear until we can figure things out.”

As she walked down the hallway with him, she softly asked, “When will my throat stop hurting?”

“It will take a while.”

“I don’t want to drink anymore,” she whispered.

Furious with his friends, he shot to his feet.

“Where are you going?”

“To get that poor woman some clothes.”

“I’m coming with you,” Marcus insisted.

“No. You’re going to stay here and make sure she doesn’t leave the house.”

And then he grabbed his keys and stormed out, needing some fucking space to breathe.

Twelve

Avalon

Varos offered her a change of clothes, then left her alone in the bathroom. She looked in the mirror, unable to like what she saw. She was much paler than before and though she had no physical scars left, she couldn’t help but feel violated. Troy’s letters still felt far too present on her chest. Her eyes were the thing she hated the most, red like the blood she craved so desperately.

Welcome to hell, she thought to herself, repeating the conversation she’d overheard in her mind.

Her throat burned. Her body didn’t feel like her own. It was like her mind had been separated and placed into the body of a stranger. Though her skin was smoother, the blood red tears were straight up horrendous. The rustling of fabric sounded, then a knock on the bedroom door.

“Avalon?” It was Varos.

“I’m here.” And have not killed half of Houston.

“Are you dressed?”

She pulled on the t-shirt and faced the door. “I am.”

The door crept open, and Varos hesitantly stepped into the room. “We thought you might want to see the rest of the house.”

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