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More wild, loud laughter from Leo.
Screw this. “Lower the vampire bastard,” she ordered. The charmer near the switch hesitated. “Lower him.”
A choked gasp. Tony’s face began to purple and the whir of the pulley filled the room.
“Simon.” Dee kept her voice soft. Too much tension. Too much rage. Simon walked a fine edge, and one push… “Simon, I want you to let him go.”
He dropped the cop.
Tony heaved, trying to suck in air.
Dee licked her lips and fought to ignore the throbbing in her shoulder. The bullet had gone straight through. She’d heard it clang against one of the metal pipes behind her. At least she didn’t have to worry about digging the thing out.
Just the blood loss. She had to stop that.
And she had to forget the pain. If Simon could stand there, with the hell he had to be feeling, then, somehow, so could she.
“Dee?” Tony’s voice, hoarse. Sad.
She couldn’t deal with him then.
“They’ll all turn from you now,” Leo taunted. She faced him. His feet touched the ground. “Everyone you care about—they’ll turn away. They’ll see what you are, and they’ll come to kill you.”
Zane. He was the one who was supposed to kill her. They’d made that long ago deal…
“You’ll be the one hunted now,” Leo raged. “You’ll be the one who’s scared and desperate and?—”
She stepped forward. Smiled a bit. Then sank her teeth into his throat. There was an instant of revulsion. Of horror. Of what-the-hell-am-I-doing. Because she didn’t want his blood. Not like she’d wanted Simon’s. Didn’t want his taste in her mouth.
She’d longed for Simon. No revulsion. No fear. She’d been desperate to take from him.
This—this was just business.
And the woman inside—the woman who’d feared and hated vampires for so long—she shuddered and a scream rose in her throat.
Can’t do this. Can’t live like this. No. No.
Images came to her. Flashing one right after the other.
Leo, covered in blood and grime, standing on an old battlefield. A sword lay cradled in his hands. The dead surrounded him and a wild smile stretched across his face.
Dee forced herself to take more. To keep. It. Down.
Leo, drinking a woman dry as she screamed and screamed—a woman in a long, flowing white dress, with her hair so long and loose around them. A tall man with bright blond hair, braided on the sides, watched, a smile on his lips. “The first blood taste is always the sweetest.”
Leo lifted his head.
“Want more?” the blond man asked.
A quick nod, but a tear leaked down Leo’s cheek.
“Don’t worry, your wife doesn’t even feel the pain now.”
Laughter.
Madness.
Rage.
