Page 31 of Bitten Vampire
Chapter Fourteen
I gapeat him as he towers over me. His body heat rolls across my skin, and a clean scent—musk, metal, and something darker, which my vampire senses now recognise as power—fills my lungs.
“You were human, and now you’re not. So I’ll ask again. Who did this to you?”
I can’t believe he remembers who I am; his earlier blank expression fooled me completely.
His rage over my turning is palpable.
Yellow-door vampire releases my chin, grasps the back of the chair, and effortlessly spins it so that my shoulders thump against the table. Bracing his hands on either side of me, he leans in, caging me.
Oh my God.If my heart were beating, itwould be racing.
Standing beside him, I feel tiny; nearly a foot and a half separates us. Seated, I might as well be curled on the floor.
“The spell gives us privacy,” he says, his voice low yet vibrating with fury. “Winifred Crowsdale, answer my question. Who. Did. This. To. You?”
What the heck? “How do you know my name?”
I suppose that’s the least of my problems. I’m trapped in a sealed room with an angry vampire. I won’t mention my daylight escapades, but I can at least tell him how I was bitten. I lick my lips and—like a starving man—he tracks the motion.
His eyes darken to storm-grey. “Please answer my question.”
“A man ordered a takeaway to your house,” I rasp.
“When?”
“The day after you gave me your hoodie.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Impossible?” Bitter heat rises in my voice. He did not just call me a liar.
“I’m not calling you a liar,” he says, his eyes narrowing as though he can read my thoughts, “but no one should have been at that house.”
“He answered the door in broad daylight.Like you, he was awake during the day.”
A warning voice in my head whispers:don’t say too much.This is dangerous ground, angry vampire, heavy magic, locked door—provoking him is a very bad idea.
“I’m telling you the truth. It was Sunday, the day after you lent me the hoodie. Someone placed a delivery at your address. I assumed it was you. I collected the food, returned your hoodie, and one of your friends decided I would makea good snack. He dragged me inside by my hair and tore out my throat. Shock and blood loss made me pass out or die, I’m not sure which.” I awkwardly shrug.
“I woke up like this, in your body bin.” My voice cracks. “You really are a bunch of sick bastards with no self-control. I’m surprised the human government hasn’t wiped you out.”
His expression darkens; a muscle ticks in his jaw. “Wipe us out? Are you forgettingyouare a vampire?”
“Indeed. Your pal murdered me. Thanks for that.”
“We’re getting off track,” he says tightly. “What did he look like?”
I describe everything I remember: his chalk-pale skin, crimson mouth, dark grey eyes, the way he caught sunlight and burned. His clothes, his stance, the tone of his voice and what happened next.
As I speak, a muscle jumps in his cheek.He knows something.
“How did you turn?”
“I have no idea.”
He moves away from me and paces, rubbing the back of his neck. I use the lull to draw a deep breath.
