Darkness licked at his soul as the fragile barrier between strongly held beliefs and suppressed instincts threatened to shatter around him. That voice again, deep inside, roared out like a freight train, calling him back.
Stop. You’re killing her. You're not an animal.
Oh God. He did have to stop. Her pulse weakened under his lips, and he sensed her life energy slipping away. This was wrong. He knew it was.
With much difficulty, he managed to release her vein. Crouching over her, he rubbed his mouth with the back of an unsteady hand. Her scent, her sweet scent, clung to every fiber of his being, seducing him back like an addiction.
A junkie desperate for another fix. He needed more of her. The blood, the warm energies. All of it. No one would know. It’d be easy to keep this secret from everyone. He’d dispose of the body so it wouldn’t be found and she’d be just another missing person. Yes, that could work.
Move away from her. Remember Alfonso.
He pinched his eyes shut, scrambled backward and collapsed next to a tree. With his head cradled between his knees, he pulled at his hair and wished she had never found him.
He raised his head and forced himself to look at what he had done. There she was, nestled innocently in the leaves, unawareof the monster at her feet, her mouth ajar, hair billowing out behind her, and long dark lashes contrasting against the pale softness of her cheeks. He noticed a small mole on her upper lip. Or maybe it was a dark freckle. It looked just like the one his mother used to draw on for vanity purposes.
What have I become?
His parents had fought so hard to elevate their kind to more than the thoughtless killers their ancestors had been. And now look at him. If his mother were alive, she’d be horrified at what he had done and everything it represented.
Another gust of wind blew through the forest, stirring the fir boughs into a rhythmic, fanning motion around him. Cool, fresh air brushed against his face, aerating him slightly and clearing out a tiny corner of his mind.
He forced himself to stand and staggered to the edge of the creek rollicking a few feet away. She was a magnet, and it took every ounce of willpower to pry himself from her presence. His body cried out, wanting more, but his mind pulled him away.
He peeled off his shirt, thrust his head into the icy cold water, and pulled the tie from his ponytail. The rushing sound filled his ears and refreshed his head. Over and over he rinsed his mouth, trying to rid himself of her taste. He scrubbed his hair, his face, his neck, washing away her smell.
He rocked back on his heels, water dripping onto his bare shoulders, and he took a deep, cleansing breath. He knew what he had to do. He was not going to end up like Alfonso. No way. He’d kill himself before he let what happened to his brother happen to him. His parents’ memory deserved more than that.
He doused his shirt in the creek, rubbed the fibers of the fabric together as if he had soap. Then he wrung it out and wrapped it around his nose and mouth like a makeshift bandanna.
When he scooped the woman up, his sudden strength stunned him. She was hardly a wisp of air in his arms. Her lips had a bluish cast to them and her pulse was weak, but she was alive. Thank God. He barely noticed that the agonizing pain from the silver bullet was gone.
There was no time to think about what a monster he was. That he was actually capable of such a despicable atrocity. He would deal with that later. Right now, he had to get her away.
With her scent all over this place, he had no doubt the Darkbloods would instantly abandon their search for him and focus on finding her instead. They’d go ape-shit when they smelled a sweetblood. And they had no qualms about killing. None.
He fished her keys from her tight leather pocket and stifled a bitter smile when he saw her juvenile key ring. Then, pausing to retrieve her camera, he cradled her body as gently as he could.
When her head rolled back, he saw two puncture holes on her graceful neck. He had backed away from her so quickly, he hadn’t sealed the wound. Without much thought, he lifted the shirt from his mouth and touched his lips to her skin.
When they drank from a human, they were never to leave an unhealed mark, no trace, no memory. He might be a rebel in the Agency, but he was no fool. Shock registered a moment later, when he realized he’d somehow controlled the urge to feed from her again. Good, maybe he could do this thing.
As he emerged from the forest into the sun of the dead, his pupils tightened and he dipped his head to shield his eyes. He started to step back into the shadows before he realized he felt none of the expected burn and no measurable energy drain.
When had he last been outside willingly during this restless time of day when the sun died and his people awaited its disappearance beyond the horizon? Except as a vampire youthling prior to the Time of Change, maybe never. After thatpoint, the cravings began, and they lived out their lives away from the weakening effects of sunlight.
Just through the trees, the cemetery signpost leaned into the bushes, its wooden placard dangling in the wind, jeering, mocking him. He bit down on his defiance and strode past. There was a time when he would’ve made the sign of the cross and offered up a prayer, but not any longer. And certainly not today.
He glanced up the dirt road, expecting to see a sassy little sports car or even a truck. Not a freaking white motorcycle. Who was this woman with a Hello Kitty keychain?
Hell, this was going to be interesting.
CHAPTER TWO
Mackenzie couldn’t rememberever having a migraine this bad. Her temples pounded like mallets as blazing sunlight penetrated her eyelids. She rolled over, covered her head with her pillow, but the throbbing pulse continued over and over in her skull.
She felt like puking.
Dragging herself from the bed toward the bathroom, sheets tangled around her, she took only a few steps before her head began spinning even faster, and her knees buckled. She expected to hit the floor, and weakly stretched out her hands, but somehow she fell onto the bed instead.
