Page 34 of Bitten Shifter

A lone wolf howls.

I misstep, trip over nothing, and crash into a wooden gate.

My weight makes the latch click, and the gate swings open. I lose my balance and fall. I brace myself for a hard landing, but instead, I hit soft grass where I expected gravel. It almost feels like the ground lifts to meet me, then gently sets me down.

“What the h…? Blood loss is making me nuts.” I shake my head, trying to make sense of what just happened.

Pain pulses through my arm in time with my heartbeat as I lift my head to take in the familiar gate. My stomach drops as realisation dawns.

I’ve fallen headlong into the wizard’s garden.

From the frying pan into the fire.

The wizard’s house looms ahead. I try to push myself up, but my body refuses to cooperate.

Beyond the gate, the steady, rhythmic beat of shoes on gravel grows louder. A man sprints towards me, his pale face catching the flicker of park lights. His eyes—odd, glowing red—are locked on me with terrifying intent.

What the f—? Red eyes?

Vampire.

My heart pounds, deafening in my ears. The metallic tang of blood mingles with the acrid taste of fear on my tongue.

He springs, fingers clawed, fangs dripping with venom, his unblinking gaze fixed on my throat. I raise my arm pitifully to shield myself, but I know it’s futile.

The magic surrounding the wizard’s house activates in a sudden, blinding flash of white. The vampire is slammed backwards, his body twisting mid-air before landing softly on his feet, hissing like a feral cat. He shakes his head, his gaze sharp and calculating.

I glance down. My hand still grips the dart gun, miraculously steady despite my shaking body. I lift it and aim at his chest as he cautiously approaches the gate.

He crouches with an unnervingly casual air, dipping his fingers into something on the gravel path. When he brings them to his lips, they glisten red.

My blood.

“You taste divine,” he murmurs, groaning as he licks his fingers clean.

I pull the trigger.

The dart whistles through the air, but faster than I can track, the vampire moves almost lazily to the side. The dart vanishes into the dark, and he chuckles—low and taunting.

“Fear. Pain. Such a perfect bouquet,” he says, his voice a silken purr. “Don’t make me stoop to licking your offering off the ground, girly. Be kind, won’t you? Leave the garden. I will ignorethe wolf spit and make it quick. No need to waste a drop.” His tongue flicks out, with a flash of fang in the faint light.

“No, you’re all right,” I rasp, my voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head, trying to capture my gaze, but my vision is too hazy to focus. Vampires can trap your mind with a single look, but I’m too far gone for even that.

The world tilts, my strength drains, and the pain dulls into nothingness.

And then, within the grounds of the wizard’s house and under a hungry vampire’s watchful eye, I do something incredibly stupid.

I pass out.

Again.

Chapter Thirteen

I blink awake.Focusing takes a few seconds. Everything is hazy. I squint at the sunlight filtering through unfamiliar lace curtains, illuminating dust motes drifting lazily in the air. The bed beneath me feels ridiculously plush, like I’m floating on a cloud. The duvet smells of vanilla, its thick, warm fabric patterned with tiny embroidered flowers.

Where the heck am I?

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