Page 4 of Afflicted

Fuck, you’re beautiful.

You’re perfect.

I need to know what you taste like.

I almost will her to find me, to move closer so she sees me.

Instead she drops back to her knees and continues with her work. I watch until the guards tell the humans to stop and come in to clean up for dinner. I watch as she cleans her hands and runs them through her hair that’s so long it hangs to her hips. She braces her hands against her waist and stretches her back.

She goes through all the motions of her evening routine, unaware that I’m lingering close enough to continue smelling that delicious scent. A few times she casts a glance around her, and my heart does a leap every single time.

She can feel me.

My reason is losing.

That night it loses again, as it screams at me not to make the same mistake I made last night. It tells me to go back to my bed as I walk to her dorm. It tells me to take my hand off the door handle. This isn’t helping. I should keep my distance. I should stay away.Go back to bed. I ignore it, hearing it fade into the background with every step towards her.

I find myself standing over her, watching her sleep, her breasts rising and falling as she breathes, her eyelashes fluttering as she dreams. I know touching her is a step too far. I reach out and yank my hand back three times. I risk waking her, and her screams letting everyone from the bloodbags to the other vamps know exactly what I’m doing. And try explainingthat.

But then she rolls on to her stomach, taking the sheet with her, exposing her long legs, and a small, pert ass barely covered by white panties. I grit my teeth. I can’t resist. She smells so fucking sweet. I reach out and brush the back of my index finger down her calf. Lightly, so she doesn’t feel it. But enough for her heat to be blazing through my body. I suck in a shuddering breath, pulling my hand back before I go too far.

You shouldn’t have done that. My reason whispers hopelessly in my ear.

No I shouldn’t have.

But it’s too late now.

CHAPTER3

JULIET

What isit about food that makes people burst into happy noise? Because even on a day where we’re about to get strapped down and milked for blood, the cafeteria is abuzz with laughter and conversation. Humans line the rows of tables, sunshine streaming in through the windows. The smell of coffee and bacon wafts through the air, the breeze drifting in through the open windows already warm at 7am. It’s going to be another scorching day.

The ridged metal of the bench digs into my thighs, and I wriggle back and forth, trying to get comfortable. I curse how bony my ass is now. I’ve lost so much weight since they brought me here and I hate it. It’s not even down to a lack of food, food production was definitely something the feeders kept up. But it’s monotonous. I find no joy in food anymore. Or anything else for that matter.

Goddamn, Juliet, throw yourself more of a pity party.

I sigh heavily, and Gina gives me a wide smile.

“You ok, sweetie?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. It’s just hot already,” I reply.

“Did you sleep well?” Her smile remains, beaming at me from over the edge of the white cup she’s cradling in her hands. How is she always in such a good mood? She’s always smiling and laughing and trying to cheer us all up. It’s sweet but jarring. Maybe I’m just tired.

I shrug, pushing the scrambled eggs on my tray around with my fork. “Not really, it was too hot.”

“Yes it was,” she says, tossing her long dark curls over her shoulder. “I really hope they get that air conditioning fixed, it’s been so long since they said they would.”

“Yeah.” I gaze out of the unbarred window at the sunshine. My hair is frizzing in the humidity. I claw it up on top of my head and secure it with a black band I have on my wrist. It’s so fucking long now, but the feeders don’t let us cut it very often. They claim something about hair being a good indicator of health, so rather than argue we all just look like Woodstock Reimagined. I wonder what the hippies would think about this future.

I feel eyes on me. I look over my shoulder, and feel a shiver down my back. One of the feeders is staring right in my direction. Just staring, his arms crossed over his chest. I’m imagining it, but the way his gaze intensifies when my eyes meet his tells me he is definitely looking right at me. I quickly turn around and look back at Gina’s smiling face.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She asks in that motherly tone that makes my heart flip just a little.

“Yeah I’m fine. Just tired. And not looking forward to draining.”

Gina takes a sip of her water and shrugs. “At least we get to sit down and don’t have to work outside, huh?” Yep, she always sees the bright side of things. I prefer working outside to being stuck with needles and watching the feeders take as much blood as they can without killing me.

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