Page 118 of Blood Mosaic

She lunged toward him and sank her teeth into his neck.

A moment later a door slammed open, someone pulled her hair, dragging her off the body of the human, and slammed her against the wall.

The next timeTatyana’s eyes fluttered open, the incongruous image of a green mosaic fan palm filled her vision. She lay still, taking in her surroundings as her eyes slowly focused in the pearl-grey light.

It only took her a moment to remember.

Vampire.

She brought her fingers to her mouth, but though her canines were preternaturally sharp, they weren’t elongated. Her throat didn’t burn.

The stabbing pain was gone, but an itching sensation remained everywhere her clothes touched her body.

She lifted her head and looked down. She was dressed in another set of navy-blue overalls, but she wasn’t wearinganything beneath them. She could feel the rough seams rasping against skin that felt feverish and aching.

She sat up slowly, looking around, but nothing made sense.

She was high on a hill and saw the sea in the distance, illuminated by the moon. She looked up at a sky that wasn’t grey at all but swirling blue and silver, the stars nearly blinding her if she looked at them too long.

She was sitting under a massive semicircular portico in front of a house on top of the hill. There were tall columns and manicured gardens that sloped down to the rolling hills that overlooked the water.

Twisting up to the house was a serpentine drive, but there were no cars in sight. All she could see was terraced gardens filled with waving palms and citrus trees heavy with fruit. Lush green gardens rose around her, and the air was filled with the scent of earth, pine, and some heady flower she couldn’t place.

She heard something moving behind her, and she sprang to her feet.

“Zara?” Had Zara turned her into a vampire? Had someone else done it?

Did it matter?

Tatyana moved like a stranger in her body.

The ground was too hard. Her footsteps too jolting. Every sense was heightened, from the bright light of the starry night to the taste of sour adrenaline that lingered at the back of her throat.

She looked around her and realized the sound she heard was the rigid frond of a large palm brushing against the house as a warm breeze swept up the hills.

The wind rolled up from the sea, laden with salt air that washed over Tatyana and soothed her anxious mind.

Water. Whatever else she was confused about, she had no doubt that her amnis came from water. She nearly wept whenthe humid breeze clung to her skin and soothed the burning irritation from the stiff canvas clothes.

Where was she?

The mansion at the top of the hill was old, decorated with marble columns that encircled the portico and large glass windows along the front of the house that framed the sea view. Elaborate floral murals decorated each column, each one different than the next, and those paintings crawled up to the roof of the portico, joining the vining border that surrounded the palm frond that made up the center of a massive mosaic.

As Tatyana walked, her footsteps sounded like firecrackers on the marble tile.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Her voice echoed against the tile and the marble.

She turned in circles, but there was nothing. She saw it then, the faint glow of light on the edge of the horizon.

Daylight was coming.

Thump.

Her heart gave a single thud, and she ran to the front door of the house, but when she yanked at the doors, the solid carved wood didn’t budge.

Her heart beat again.

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