Page 41 of Blood Secret

12

Vale

The shower hadn’t helpedanything. I was just as overheated as ever. And it all centered around her.

What was happening to me? Like something had snapped in my brain, and I wasn’t the same as before. It had been a terribly close call back there, against the sink, bodies touching.

I could still smell her even with the scent of soap all over me, hanging in the air. Nothing could wipe her from my mind. Nothing could erase the feel of her warmth, the way my skin had tingled wherever it touched hers.

I wiped steam from the mirror and looked at myself. My eyes were half-lidded with lust. It was like wanting blood but even worse, because blood kept me alive. There was an excuse for wanting blood. I couldn’t help it. Without it, I’d starve.

What was the excuse for wanting her? None. I could live without her. I would do better to live without her. No matter how much I had hated myself in the past for being so weak when blood was concerned,

I hated myself ten times more for being so weak around her.

The silence got my attention first.

The fact that I couldn’t hear her out there, making noise, being sloppy. Dropping things, letting them lie where they fell.

“Janna?” I called out, sliding into a fresh pair of shorts and jeans.

I would need to have my clothes washed soon, since my supply was limited.

Nothing but silence.

I flung open the door.

The apartment was empty, the front door closed.

“Janna!” I bellowed, running for the window, looking out.

The narrow alley between buildings was empty, along with the sidewalk. And yet the smell of blood hung heavy in the air.

No, no, no.

The word repeated over and over as I ran out into the hall, threw myself headfirst down the stairs, burst out onto the sidewalk and around the corner.

No, no, no.

Not her. No.

It wasn’t possible. What had she done? How had it happened?

“Janna?” I whispered, scanning the dark passage.

All I saw was a pile of rags against the wall. A pile of rags which rose and fell slowly, barely moving at all. Not a pile of rags.

A body.

I collapsed beside her, pulling her into my arms. She was covered in blood and bruises.

Her head lolled against my shoulder.

“Oh, Janna, what did he do to you?”

She was gone, or nearly.

Her breathing was nothing more than a shallow rasp which she struggled for, and a gurgling sound came from her chest whenever she drew in air.

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