Page 62 of Heartbeat Girl

The man scoffed. “So, you were going to sneak in here and tell them what? Dammit, you should have at least covered your eye—”

“Liam?” That voice was familiar.

I slid back inside my body, slowly becoming aware I stood in the middle of the hallway.

Steve tilted his head. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I stared at the wall for a moment and then caught up.

That had never happened before. I wondered what made me single out a heart. The wild flutters still echoed all around me. Closing my eyes, I tried to ignore it.Triedwas the operative word.

“Here we are,” Denise interrupted, and then opened a door for us.

“Come with us.” Steve led her inside.

“Why do we need to bother the pretty nurse any further?” Pete arched a brow at Steve.

“I have a hunch this won’t go the way we want,” Steve said as we walked inside.

“I don’t mind,” Denise said, still under Steve’s compulsion.

The squeaks of rubber hitting the tiled floor caught my ear. Flip-flops? The flapping grew more insistent, closer.

“Stop being so fucking ridiculous,” the man I heard earlier said.

Heartbeat girl gasped slightly.

“You always overreact. I could have taken care of you at home.”

Her voice trembled as she said, “I’m going to go—”

“No, Wait! That’s even more suspicious.”

Steve and Pete were talking.

Ignoring them, I continued listening to what I shouldn’t be. I hadn’t gone looking for the woman’s heartbeat or her voice. She found me. It only seemed fair to listen.

“You’re hurting my wrist.” Heartbeat Girl whimpered.

The shithead held her wrist? I wondered if it was the injured one. A painful rage grew in my chest and became uncomfortable. Heartbeat Girl might be in a very unhealthy relationship.

“What blood type do you want?” Steve asked, and I glanced over at him. He held several blood bags in his hand. “O positive?”

“What about B negative?” Pete sniffed his. “I don’t know. Smells like Liam’s personality.Stale.”

“Must be his blood type then.” Steve laughed, tossed me a bag, and punctured one with his fangs. He grimaced and spat the blood out. “It’s not the blood type. Cold blood is sour.”

Pete’s forehead wrinkled as he looked down at the splattered blood. “That’s not reassuring.”

“Go ahead. Try it,” Steve said.

Pete did. He fared better, swallowing some as he squeezed the bag. Finally, he pulled out his fangs and the clear package ripped completely. With a sneer, he said, “Disgusting. Cold blood is how I’d imagine a zombie might taste.Bitter.”

I held up the bag and stared at it. In a wobbly voice, I said, “Can’t be that bad.”

“Your turn.” Steve snorted at me before flashing his fangs at Denise. “Come here, Denise. You don’t mind feeding me, do you?” he asked her.

She shook her head quickly and took his hand.

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