Page 1 of Just One Bite
Prologue
Olivia
There has to be an explanation.
Why else would I let some masked stranger touch me? The mask would probably be scary if the memory of him playfully waving at me in the hallway wasn’t replaying in my mind. The night sky is blanketed by hundreds of stars, and I am backed against a tree with nowhere to go.
I’ve been touched by a man before, but it never felt like this. His eyes are hidden beneath the sinister mask, but his touch is tender.
His lips graze my ear, and he draws in a long, heavy breath, while my chest heaves in response. The slow caress of his fingers slides under my sweater and below my navel.
What is this visceral urge keeping me fastened here, pressed up against him like the stars might come crashing down if I leave?
He isn’t human, that much I can tell. Humans don’t look at other humans that way, with ferocity and necessity—like he is seconds away from sinking his canines into my flesh.
Desire lingers in my sigh and expands between us, and when my eyes threaten to flutter shut, I land on the description of the feeling.
Home. His touch reminds me of what I’d abandoned the hope of long ago. Safety. Wholeness. Comfort. That must be why I want to wrap my arms around him and bury my face into his chest.
The fear of that realization hits me as my sister’s scream rings through the air, and I snap from my daze, press two hands to his chest, and push.
I run away, dodging the trees, not bothering to turn around to see if he follows.
With each step, I force him from my brain. All while hoping I never have to see him again.
Chapter One
Olivia
*A few hours earlier*
“Hurry and find our names,” I shout over the crowd.
My little sister dives for the bulletin board within the bustling crowd of other students. I try to keep track of the pastel-pink ends of her blonde hair, but she’s out of sight in seconds.
The entire system is inefficient. An almost four-hundred-year-old school hasn’t found a better way to announce dorm assignments than a piece of paper on a board in the courtyard. Second by second, the crowd shoves me back as I examine the castle in the distance. It’s the tallest building I’ve ever seen, so it’s hard not to stare at the turrets stretching into the sky to figure out the symbol on the end of each spire. It’s a star, I think. Then someone else pushes me, so I grab onto my other sister for support.
Evangeline—the only thing I’ve ever called her is Eva—is sickly pale and biting her cheek. I wrap my arm around hers, and she smiles sheepishly. She may be the oldest, but taking charge was never her thing. She prefers for my younger sister and me to take the lead. Unless it involves any type of athletics, then she’d rather not be involved at all.
I don’t blame her. It was a tough afternoon. Dad dropped us off late, and the car ride ended in tears and bickering—Eva had no time to plan, and her hair suffered for it. She wanted it down and curled, but now, her blonde hair is frizzyand pulled into a bun that she swears is slightly lopsided—it isn’t.
“This is a disaster.”
I agree but instead say, “We’ll be fine.”
Eva is naturally a better socializer than I am when she isn’t feeling out of sorts.
“No. I haven’t eaten. I’m so nervous. We’re probably going to get split up.”
And hungry. I know the signs of an Eva panic attack when I see one, but I’ve come prepared. I rummage in my suitcase sitting at my feet, moving past my ballet shoes and silk pajamas.
“I have some crackers in my bag. Want some?” I ask.
She nods swiftly and snatches the crackers from me as soon as I dig them out of hiding. Same as me, she likes to plan and have order. Only, Ilikethose things and sheneedsthem. As she eats the crackers and bits of crumbs pepper her uniform, she stops swaying and bumping into my shoulder. One crisis averted.
Behind her, I notice the attention of almost all the new students as they pass us to get their room assignment. Long-lingering stares, and some stop to gawk. If Eva notices, she’ll start hyperventilating.
“Emma, hurry up!” I call.
