Page 50 of Immortal Bastard

She was a portrait of perfection. A masterpiece. His pintura. He paused in the doorway, gratitude overwhelming him as he breathed in the image of her sleeping soundly on his bed. Then her eyes flashed open wide—fully dilated—and he knew he was in trouble.

CHAPTER 7

He was watching her. She sensed him before seeing him, could feel him admiring her while she slept. Her eyes flicked open, finding his tall form filling the doorway. Her blood boiled.

Him. He did this.

The lethargic shock that overtook her these past few days had abated. In its place seethed an uncontainable rage.

A low growl broke the near silence, the uncharacteristic rumble coming from her throat. Beneath the primal snarling, she heard the insects crawling under the foundation of the house, the flap of birds’ wings overhead, the snap of a branch, and the snick of a matchstick catching flame. She could scent the sulfur burning, feel the tingle of the sunlight damaging her skin through the glass of the window, and taste a strange copper tang on her tongue.

She glared at him, pouring every bit of hatred into her gaze.

“You’re awake.”

She sensed his surprise and a trace of something else. Fear? Uncertainty? Good. He should be afraid.

Time stretched and yawned within every passing second, moving slower than usual as her mind gathered and stored every transient detail. Baring her teeth, she panted through her fury, her muscles vibrating with the urge to wound him. He did this to her.

She frowned, unsure how such seething ferocity could live inside of her. She was a pacifist, an animal rights activist. Of course, she liked animals better than people. Most people sucked. But she never suffered any inclination to harm another. Until him… She wanted to claw his eyes out, rip his hair out in hunks, bite into his throat, and tear open his flesh.

Her insides twitched with awareness. A tingle of unwelcome arousal zipped through her core, angering her all the more.

She frowned, because in light of everything else it seemed a weird time to feel horny. Must be a vampire thing.

Her jaw shifted and she dragged her tongue over the sharp edge of her teeth, stilling when she discovered the lengthened tip of her incisor. Fangs. Yup. They were real.

“Do you feel better now that you’ve…slept?”

Grateful sleep didn’t require a coffin or being underground with creepy crawlers and spiders, she mentally nodded but made no motion that would give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment. But she did feel better. Incredible actually.

He took a step forward and she hissed like a cornered cat. Another vampire trait, she supposed.

Did she have powers? Could she turn into a bat? Fly? Maybe she could turn into a butterfly or—ooh!—a unicorn. Pretty! Or, no, ooh, a dragon! If vampires were real, dragons had to have existed at some point in time, too.

Visions of burning him to ash filled her mind. She’d like to light him up like Kings Landing. She pictured doing just that, fiery dragon breath exploding out of her and engulfing him in pain. Burn, motherfucker!

He grimaced and mentally withdrew from her head. Served him right for trespassing in her thoughts.

Stay the fuck out of my head!

“Delilah—”

Her eyes snapped back to him. Bad man. The hissing seemed a natural response to his proximity. Maybe there was some cat in her after all because she felt rather feral at the moment.

He took another step, and she sprang to her feet, knees bent, arms spread, ready to attack. Her hands splayed wide like talons as she panted through her bared teeth. Holy shit, she felt strong, like she could move a mountain. Bad. Ass.

She flexed her arms and rolled her shoulders testing her newfound strength. Limber and loose. Like she could really fuck him up. Her eyes zeroed in on his throat.

Christian took a cautious step back and held out a calming hand. She sniffed the air, somehow recognizing the scent of his uncertainty, enjoying the fact that she made him nervous. Feeling as reliable as a loose fucking cannon full of God-knew-what kind of mystical gunpowder, she recognized that she could blow at any moment. Apparently, so did he.

Her eyes dared him to make a move.

“I’m not your enemy, little one.”

Nothing about her felt little at that moment. Her senses cataloged every element from the wind on the house to the earth rotating on its axis. Her body calibrated with the heat of the sun and her mind knew exactly how far she’d have to travel to reach water. She was a Goddess, tapping into all of nature's beautiful powers.

He slid his foot one-eighth of an inch toward her, and she sprang to the other side of the room, dizzy from moving so fast.

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