She was his. He’d made her what she was.
And all those other spooks who followed him—he’d made them, too. That was the way a vampyre built up power. Yes, a vampyre’s strength and abilities grew as the decades and centuries went by. But a far faster way to gain power was to build up one’s own little army—by turning others. Making offspring. It was a dangerous game, because in time, an offspring could become more powerful than the one who made them. They could rebel and kill their parent. It was, apparently, very common among vampyres. So, the old ones lived always with a tension: the need to create more offspring, but the necessity of choosing who they turned with great care.
Langford had chosen her with great care, she had no doubt. Because he felt he’d always be able to control her. To dominate her. To use her.
And yet…
Kitty had never turned anyone. Technically, according to vampyric tradition, she should have the blessing of her masterto do so, and that permission was rarely granted. Typically, an offspring wasn’t allowed turn anyone else until after their master’s death. To do so would be a great transgression, a dangerous rebellion.
But Kitty couldn’t live like this anymore.
She needed someone. Someone she could trust. Someone who was on her side. Someone who could protect her from Langford, maybe even help her get out of his service altogether. Someone chivalrous. Someone with a heart of gold. She needed a hero.
And Charlie… for all his flaws, was a hero.
Kitty wasn’t sure what she was contemplating would work. She’d never heard of it being done. Living people were turned into vampyres, not dead ones. But death was part of the turning process, so perhaps…
She looked over her shoulder. The battle seemed to have moved on. Still no sign of Langford or the others.
But if they came back. If they caught her…
Quickly, she knelt next to Charlie. The skin of his handsome face was mottled with red where it had been scalded by the fire, but the rest of it was the sickly white of death. Flecks of ash clung to his hair. Still, he was handsome. That jaw. Those lips… She felt her canine teeth growing longer and sharper as the thought of his blood filled her with wanting.
Should she do this?
Take this risk?
For a man who’d betrayed her, a man whom she had betrayed?
It was foolish, maybe.
But amongst all the other things she was, Kitty was a reporter. She followed stories wherever they led. And she couldn’t help but feel this wasn’t the end for Charlie Inman. Itwas just another twist. Another chapter. And she needed him. She couldusehim.
Shouts. Soldiers, coming closer. Time was short.
She placed her tongue between her teeth and bit down, wincing, until she tasted her own blood.
She bent over him, took a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat. Her lips found his skin, lingering there. She took a slow breath, savoring the scent of him, mixed now with the wafts of woodfire and gun smoke. “Well, Charlie. You’ll find I’m not such an easy girl to break up with,” she said.
Then she opened her mouth wide and bit.
