Page 17 of Reaper's Revenge
I nod. “I saw you at the café, you weren’t…hungry? You could’ve come inside.”
Her eyes flash with something I can’t read. “Starving,” she hisses, and then her hand lands on my bicep. She squeezes tight enough that it hurts, forcing me to cry out.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Tears crest, and I just know there’s going to be an ugly bruise where she’s holding me. I jerk away, ready to take off running to my house, but it’s no use. I don’t even budge; she’s so freakishlystrong.
“Let go!” I scream, my fight or flight kicking in tenfold. I could’ve used the adrenaline two minutes prior. I really don’t want to assault her, regardless of whether she’s hurt me. I’m not that sort of person, but she’s about to leave me no choice in the matter.
“Veronica!” A man shouts, anger swimming in his voice as he interrupts our face-off. “Let her go, now,” he demands.
Chapter Thirteen
Athena
When Reaper comes out from the shadows, fury twists his gorgeous face. I’ve never seen him look so scary before, but thankfully, it’s not directed at me. My heart flutters at his presence, the heaviness of the situation lifting from my shoulders as a sense of safety washes over me.
He's here, and he’s going to keep me safe.
“Not on your life,” She promises, releasing a sinister cackle. This woman is crazy. There’s no doubt in my mind anymore whatsoever.
I try jerking out of her grip once more, but she’s still holding me too tightly. Should I fight or let him handle it? Certainly, he’s intimidating enough to get her to change her mind about whatever she plans to do to me.
She continues, “You shouldn’t play with your food, Reaper. You’ve kept her so breakable. A little human, weak and ripe for the plucking. Tell me, shall I turn her for you? Since you don’t appear to be man enough to do it yourself, or should I just drain her so she stops tempting you so badly? I sense your need. You know, as your sire, I can feel more from you than the others can. I sense your control, the hesitation, but also the desperate craving to rip into her all at the same time. She’ssotempting,lover,isn’t she?”
“Veronica,” His voice is cruel, lips twisted in a snarl as he takes another imposing step toward us. “This is between us. She has nothing to do with it. Let the woman go, and let’s finally end this.”
“End this? But I’m merely getting started. You’ve gotten too stuffy being comfortable around your den brothers. Too many vampires holding back, never living their lives, doing what they were created to do. No, I don’t think I’ll let her go. In fact, she’ll make the perfect ending to my hunt. A little dessert on top of the others I’ve already drained in this godforsaken city.”
He lunges for us, but she’s faster. Before I can blink and even process what’s happening, she has her arms around me, lifting me off the ground and running. She moves faster than anyone I’ve ever seen before, dizzyingly. My mind is still scrambling from the previous conversation they were having. None of it makes any sense, the way they were speaking, the words they were using. Turn me? Drain me? Calling me human as if she’s not the same species, and now with her running like this? I’m a bundle of nerves, a hot-mess-express if you will.
“My luck always proves to be true, and this is only the icing on the cake,” She preens, shoving me into a tiny sports car. I quickly crawl over the console to the passenger seat, reaching for the door handle to make my escape, but her reflexes are swift, snatching hold of my forearm. She’s also freakishly strong, and everywhere she gets her hands on me burns with pain.
“P-please. V-Veronica, is it?”
She shoots me a glare and a tight smile, filled with unspoken promises I don’t want her to keep. I have no doubt in my mind that out of everything she’s threatened, the drain me option stands out front and center in her twisted thoughts. The sporty little car revs, and then she’s pressing the gas to the floor, the horsepower making me sink into the seat further as she peels out.
I hear the echo of motorcycle pipes, the sound offering me a brief moment of hope. It has to be Reaper. He must have his motorcycle and is coming after us. However, the sound grows weaker as the car powers forward.
My stomach twists with trepidation when I glance over at the speedometer and watch it steadily climb to one-forty, then one-fifty, and finally one-sixty. I’ve never been in a vehicle going so fast. My heart's racing a million miles a minute, to the point I feel it may burst.
My hand flies to my chest as I close my eyes and attempt to make myself draw in air and not choke up. Although maybe making myself pass out is the real winner in this situation. I wouldn’t feel whatever’s coming to me that way. If we hit one wrong bump in the road, or if she loses control for even a second, we’re toast.
I shake my head to myself, silently arguing that if I get even a sliver of a chance to escape, I have to be alert and ready. No passing out and escaping reality because it’s convenient in the moment. Life doesn’t work that way, and I’m well-versed in it. This woman is fast, strong, and overly capable, so I’ll need every ounce of strength and energy I can muster up if I want a fighting chance.
“Please slow down! You’re going to kill us both,” I manage to grit through clenched teeth, cracking my eyes open just enough to see us go careening around a dangerous turn. The woman drives as if her ass is on fire, and if I don’t die of a wreck, it’ll be because my anxiety is through the roof and I gave myself a stroke.
“Please!” I cry out as another sharp turn comes into play, and she turns so swiftly the car fishtails. We’re all over the road. It’s late enough that there’s no traffic, but it’s virtually impossible to see very far in front of us with how dark some of the Texas streets get at night.
I can no longer hear the motorcycle, so she must’ve lost Reaper. My hope stutters, unease clawing its way into every crack it can find inside me. My eyes are open now. I can’t help it; there are a million deer out on these old highways, and I want to see if we’re going to slam into one. Call me a glutton for punishment because I know if we do hit one, it’ll be our demise. This car is so tiny, it’s like a plastic toy that will flip all over the place. I can’t believe we haven’t wrecked already.
Tears cascade down my face, dripping off my chin. My arms hurt from how badly she’s gripped me. My skin is already littered with dark marks that I know will only get worse with a bit of time. How did my life spiral out of control so quickly? One minute, I was minding my own business, and the next, I was thrust into a nightmare.
She downshifts without taking her gaze off the road in front of us, and then she’s allowing the car to slow way down. She makes a sudden, sharp right turn, sending my body into the center console. I scramble, attempting to brace myself, but it’s no use; my side is jolted into the armrest. I’m panting as my eyes scan the area around us, looking for a clue as to where we could be going. We’re in the middle of nowhere, the dark sky full of tiny twinkling stars.
We’re put onto a long drive; the headlights shine a ways in front of us, almost reflecting off the dirt road. It’s definitely not made for this type of car, so she drives slower, but it’s still not enough to make it comfortable. I’m jostled all over the place as loudthunkspepper the car from rocks being spewed badly enough to litter the vehicle with dents and dings. Tiny silver eyes shine back at us through the grass from the car’s headlights shining onto both sides of the road. Hopefully, the animals have enough sense to run off and hide from this evil woman. I don’t doubt for a second she’d plow them right over in her hurry to get us wherever it is she’s headed.
A large farmhouse comes into view as we go down a small hill. There are lights on all around the home and the big red barn next to it, but no movement. It could be too late for them, perhaps, so they’re safely tucked away inside. However, my gut tells me I’m far from right on my assessment.
Veronica slows the car, turning onto the driveway. She parks the vehicle next to a dusty white truck advertising farm-fresh eggs on the front door. I shift in my seat, facing her, with my back against the door, and ask, “Is this your house?” I have a sinking suspicion I already know the answer to my question, but I’m also naïve enough to ask anyway, praying I’m wrong.
