Page 21 of Reaper's Revenge
I can’t stop myself as I lean in closer to him, my nose seeking his neck. God, he smells divine. No, not him…
His blood.
My fingers and toes curl as the sensation overwhelms me to sink my teeth into his throat and drink as much as I can.
I’m losing my mind.
Veronica has done something to me to make me this way. There’s no other explanation. I can’t drink this man’s blood. I can’t drinkanyblood. How could I even think of such a thing? This isn’t me.
Before it registers, I’ve moved, my mouth is on him. Nose up against his neck, breathing the scent in deeply as need unlike I’ve ever experienced before consumes me, and I’m biting his skin hard enough to draw blood. With my first powerful suck, something hard lands in my mouth, and I back away, spitting it out.
Teeth.
My tongue licks over my lips as I attempt to taste every drop of the man’s blood. In my perusal, I’m met with sharp points. My canines no longer feel like they usually do. It’s in that moment, I know it was my teeth that I’d spat out…
I have fangs.
The notion is absurd to me, but I don’t waste precious time overthinking it as the cravings hit me tenfold. The man’s blood calls to me, offering silent promises of easing the burn in my throat, of soothing the cramps in my stomach. Leaning in, it’s much easier this time as my teeth sink in effortlessly, thanks to the extremely sharp fangs I now possess.
I take a long pull.
The liquid fills my mouth, and my eyes roll heavenward. It’s divine in a way that’s addicting. Like sugar and coconut rum, sweetening every crevice in my mouth. I swallow, and when it hits my throat, it’s warm honey, the syrup coating everything until the pain disappears. I continue to drink, each new gulp tasting better than the last until it fills my stomach like ice, the coolness putting an end to the fiery cramps.
My lethargy disappears, the bone-deep tiredness and ache gone in a flash. This time when I open my eyes, it’s like everything is clearer. I can see better, hear better, and I have an abundance of energy. Suddenly, it feels like I’m a bundle of nerves, but in a good way. Like I can smash through the wall, and nothing could stop me. I know that’s not the case, but this time when I attempt to move, it’s like breathing. It takes nothing as I smoothly stand and head for the pitcher of blood on the counter. I enjoyed drinking from the neck, but I have a feeling drinking from the pitcher will be much quicker, and I intend to have my fill.
I waste no time with a glass, instead grabbing the pitcher in both hands. I bring it to my lips and take large, fulfilling gulps of the liquid. I feel like I could drain a horse and never get enough; it tastes so good. Like cinnamon and frosting, it must belong to the woman, because the man’s reminded me of a beach vacation. Hers is like warm cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning.
I finish off the pitcher, swiftly moving for the couple. There are bowls under each of their limbs collecting more of their delicious blood. I can’t stop myself, nor do I want to, any longer. I crouch down, removing one bowl at a time, drinking down every single drop, then replacing them.
With the haze of thirst no longer clouding my mind, I remember I wanted keys and weapons, so I dig through the man’s pockets and check his waistband for a knife of some sort. I come away empty, but at least now I have the energy to search. All the soreness I’d been feeling from Veronica’s kicks and abuse are like a distant memory. My body and mind feel better than they ever have.
Stronger.
Smarter.
My feet are as light as a dancer’s while I make my way around the kitchen, living room, and dining room. Veronica has no idea what’s in store for her when she returns, and I intend to be prepared.
The rooms grow dim with the light behind the curtains and blinds fading fast. The only lights that had been turned on previously were the recessed lighting in the kitchen, and they began to shine brighter, making their presence known along with the time of day changing. I must’ve slept for half the night and nearly all day today. I’m guessing it had something to do with my body changing and the bone-deep weariness it had elicited.
I can’t help but wonder, did Reaper and Bones know what was happening to me with their many questions? Are they also like Veronica and me? And, how in the hell did this happen in the first place? If I weren’t feeling so off yesterday before I came across Veronica, I’d think this was her doing. However, deep down, I know it’s not. She’d never turn me, not when she wants me dead as badly as she does.
With a sigh, I move for the kitchen, grabbing a knife, but then everything I think I know about vampires races through my mind. Will stabbing her with a knife even suffice? Or does it have to be wood? I glance around my surroundings and immediately take in the paper towel holder. It’s wood, and I pray the wood is strong enough to pierce Veronica’s heart if necessary. Maybe I should try to break one of the dining room chairs’ legs off to have a thicker chunk, or something. If I do that, though, it’ll be noisy, and I’m trying to be as silent as possible in case she’s still in the house, which I have a sinking suspicion she is.
The psycho is probably in a room down the hall, just waiting to hear a noise so she can torture me. No, I’ll stick to the paper towel holder and revel in the silence until she makes herself known. I’d rather have the option of surprise on my hands than not, and have to confront her directly.
Weapons in hand, I make for the front door, and right beside it is a key hook. I don’t know why I didn’t think to look there before, but I’m chalking it up to my frazzled nerves yesterday. On it hangs several sets of keys, but namely a key fob that I’d bet belongs to the truck parked outside.
Peeking around the wall that separates the kitchen and the hallway, I stare hard, searching through the dark for any shapes waiting to jump out at me. I don’t see anything right away, so I remain there a beat, listening for movement. There doesn’t seem to be anything aside from the sounds of the air conditioner kicking on and then off. It must be set to a specific temperature because I’m betting it’s cooler outside. We’re too close to Halloween for it to be super-hot at nighttime anymore, thank God. I hold my breath as I tiptoe past the hallway toward the front door.
I grab the keys, moving for the deadbolt lock. I exhale my shaky breath before inhaling again and then twist the deadbolt, praying to myself the entire time it isn’t loud. The lock clicks as it seats itself in the chamber, and I know she’s heard it. Without a second to spare, I twist the lock on the knob and throw caution to the wind, slamming the door open.
Without a backward glance, I sprint for the truck, while every fiber in my body knows she’s right behind me.
Chapter Sixteen
Reaper
Machete shares a glance with Chaos before shaking his head, saying, “We found nothing last night. We checked the one warehouse I knew of here, but came up short.”
