Page 78 of Her Dark Salvation

She turned her head back and forth, and satisfied with her cover up job, rummaged through her purse and pulled out a tube of lipstick. “I’ve never heard of him cozying up to a Source. You must be doing something right.” She pulled off the cap and smoothed the hot pink lipstick over her lips.

Pink. Not red.

Her image in the mirror became fuzzy.

She pressed her lips together and puckered. “You are one lucky girl.” She replaced the cap, tossed the lipstick back in her bag, and started a new search.

I smiled awkwardly.

She pulled out a short fat vial and unscrewed its cap. I turned off the water and grabbed a towel from the counter. The cap came out followed by a flat stick. She dipped the stick back into the vial before holding it to her nose and snorting the white powder at its end with a sharp inhale. I dried my hands while she stretched her nose and sniffed. She held the tiny stick toward me, and I shook my head. She shrugged, dipped the stick back in the vial, and took the bump up her other nostril.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed, you know,” she offered between sniffs. She screwed the cap back on her stash and tossed it in her bag.

She turned to me and smiled, a comforting, reassuring expression you’d expect from a best girlfriend. Her pupils were dilated, lips and nose twitchy from the blow, but she clearly wanted to have a moment.

“I saw you blush, but you shouldn’t be embarrassed. If Luca gave me half the attention Marco gives you, I’d be strutting around here like I owned the place. He barely notices me unless he wants to feed. But the way Marco looks at you?” She sighed like a lovestruck fool. “It’s like he’s hungry for more than your blood. He wants you. All of you. Like I said, you are one lucky girl.” She winked and slung the chain-link strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Own it, sister!” She reached out, squeezed my hand, then turned on her platform heels and walked out the door.

ChapterTwenty-One

Anna

Sources.

Wanting to feed.

Hungry for my blood.

I wobbled on my heels and leaned against the counter, words and images flashing and crashing, a pandemonium that blurred my vision and constricted my lungs. I started hyperventilating, and my desperate gasps for air and the blood rushing in my ears created a cacophony of panic.

Luca had been feeding on that woman’s neck.

I braced myself on the outside of the stall and the edge of the counter. My sweaty palm slid down the metal, but I splayed my fingers to regain traction.

The cold, hard surface grounded me, and I slowed my breathing. The last thing I needed was to black out in a hotel with vampires.

Hysterical laughter broke through the gasps of my shallow breathing. My logical brain rejected the ridiculous idea.Vampires? Yeah, right!The denial allowed me to bring my breathing back under control. I faced the mirror and leaned on the counter, pressing the heels of my hands into its cool, marble edge.

The world had shifted on its axis, but aside from the bright flush of my cheeks, Anna stared back at me. Same, mundane, forty-five-year-old Anna Barone. The world was exactly the same as it had been twenty minutes ago. The difference? Knowledge that my understanding of the world was limited. But I was an academic; I already knew that.

So, what did I know for sure?

I knew a woman doing blow used an odd word to describe herself—Source. Maybe it was Mafia lingo I’d never heard before.

I knew she talked about feeding and blood, but talk was cheap. Maybe she was into some sort of vampire cosplay kink. People were into that stuff, right?

As for Luca’s eyetooth? I’d never spent more than ten minutes with the man. I probably hadn’t noticed it before. Different people had different shaped teeth. And if he was into the same kink, maybe he sharpened them on purpose.

My nerves calmed, and my vision cleared, my body settling back into its natural rhythms. There was a rational explanation for all of this. I’d just jumped to irrational conclusions because of frayed nerves and champagne.

Determined not to let the incident ruin my night, I walked out of the restroom on shaky legs, down the hallway to the lobby, and straight to the bar. The bartender handed me a glass of champagne, and I took a long, deep drink. Braced with liquid courage, I headed for the ballroom.

Marco waited at the entrance, and my unhinged suspicions made his familiar black eyes take on a menacing quality. He watched my approach, a curious tilt to his head, and with each step, my heart pounded faster against my chest. I reached for my necklace, the one my father had given me on my sixteenth birthday, but my anchor wasn’t there. I’d foregone my jewelry in deference to the dress, and my fingers opened and closed around air.

He frowned, his gaze focused on my fingers, and reached for me. He wrapped his arm tight around my waist and placed his hand on my hip. Still jumpy from the restroom, I stiffened beneath his touch before relaxing into his arms.

“You okay?” he asked, concern evident in the softness of his voice. “What took so long?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled. “I?—”

---