Page 21 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
How many women has Chelsea attempted to sire? Alarm bells are blaring in my mind.
She stands up and squeezes my shoulders with her hands. I bite my tongue to keep from crying out in pain. Her grip is strong and bruising.
“Mika is a great name.”
The man laughs at her growled words. Chelsea is vibrating with anger, and it only takes another second of laughter for her to launch herself at him. Her attack is vicious, all teeth and nails. He’s thrown for a second, then he starts to fight back.
I work my wrists while they’re distracted, furiously trying to wiggle my hands free. When the man shoves her, Chelsea comes flying at me and we tumble over. The chair groans and breaks from the impact. The vampire rolls off of me and runs at the man.
“You’ll regret that, Hank,” she screams.
I moan and pull my hands from underneath the chair. My wrists are raw and red. At least they’re free of the restraints. I shake them out, feeling around in the broken remains of the chair for something sharp. One of the legs snapped into a jagged point, and I smirk when I press my thumb on the top of it.
It’ll be painful. It’s perfect.
Chelsea has the man laid out on the floor, and she’s nearly bitten through his neck. She doesn’t sense my approach, too lost in ravaging the asshole.
Hank. What kind of name is that anyway?
I hold the makeshift stake in both hands and raise them over my head before bringing them down in one powerful swoop. The vampire lets out a high-pitched scream when the wood jams inside her neck. It won’t kill her, but I’m not trying to kill her. I’m trying to escape.
“You filthy human.”
I rip the stake out of her neck and slam it into her cheek. Blood sprays across the floor. She shrieks and falls onto her ass.
She’s not dead, but she’s going to need a moment to recover. It’s the chance I’ve been waiting for.
Time to go.
I rip the door open and bolt down a darkened hallway. The lighting is intentionally dim, and the walls are dark blue. The carpet is black and plush, and my feet sink into it with every hurried step. I don’t run because that would be too obvious, but I keep my pace clipped. I run my hand along the wall when I reach a corner.
Resting my back against it, I take a second to close my eyes and catch my breath, listening for anyone heading my way. A few seconds pass, and I don’t hear anything. Firmly setting my mind on escaping, I straighten and slip around the corner.
There’s only one door at the end of a short hallway. This is definitely not the way to the exit, and I’m not about to playwhat’s behind door number twoand risk being captured by more blood-thirsty vampires.
“Gah,” I mumble to myself before spinning around and crashing into a hard chest.
Colt’s hands cup my elbows in a fierce grip. His green eyes flit over my face and body. “Going somewhere?”
My heart flutters around like a butterfly trapped in a glass jar. He shifts me so I’m pressed against the wall; the shoulder Chelsea bruised protests, and I wince slightly.
Colt’s face darkens. “You’re hurt.”
“Why do you care?”
He stares at me for a few seconds. “I don’t,” he says gruffly before loosening his hold on me. “What happened to Chelsea?”
“Mice?”
He pinches his eyebrows together. “You stabbed her. You’ve got a nasty habit of stabbing supes.”
I sneer at him. “She and Hank the Tank wanted to get frisky with me, but apparently Mika killed the mood.”
“Who’s Mika?” His face is scrunched, and I can tell I’ve thoroughly confused him.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t met Mika. I thought everyone knew her.”
Colt notices my smile, and he scowls at me. “You’re joking.”
