“What problem?”
The one corner of Tannis’s mouth that I can see turns up. “You know, enthralling Millie. I have your solution.”
“This again?” I can’t help but feel my anger. “I don’t want a solution to a problem I don’t plan on having.”
“Even if it’s a witch?” Tannis counters. “I’ll understand if it’s a no, given your recent encounter with one.”
He isn’t wrong. I’m already tired of the word, and I’ve only met one. “Another witch?”
“Probably the most powerful one in the area,” they say. “She owes me a favor.”
“What could a witch know about a vampire’s thrall?” I scoff, looking out the window at the lights streaking by. It does little to soothe my growing anxiety. Nerves are complicated enough without complex emotions, and Millie has me feeling everything new for the first time in a hundred years. Hunger I can control, but this? My body is itching in the worst way.
“Plenty,” Tannis says confidently. “Witches have magic beyond our comprehension.”
“Like what?”
“She promises me that she can protect Millie’s precious little head,” Tannis says, and I almost can’t believe it. “All the benefits of being your thrall, with none of the icky downsides.”
For a moment, I consider it. While I am vehemently against enthralling Millie to me, Dante’s vindictiveness makes me question if I can protect her myself. Learning how to fight and defend herself from Tannis isn’t enough, not when everything about her is mortal.
Maybe… maybe it isn’t such a bad idea.
My logic is interrupted the second we pull into the parking lot of the String Theory. For the moment, I forget all about Tannis and their witch. Something different draws my attention, and I’m out of the car before it’s even parked.
“Wait!” I hear Tannis call out, but I can’t stop my feet from moving.
I smell blood…Millie’sblood.
Millie
I’m an idiot for thinking Steven’s ten second head start was an advantage.
One minute I’m running, and the next, I’m bowling through cocktail rounds and knocking over furniture with my body. I made it to the dancefloor, right where the bar is, but I didn’t get any farther than that before he made me into a ragdoll. I do everything I can to protect my head and other parts of me, butfuckdoes it hurt. The wind rushes out of my lungs, and I try desperately to catch my breath.
“What’s wrong? You ran so much faster the first time.” Steven picks me up with ease and sets me on my feet again, but I can barely stand upright. He looks disappointed, which is kind of twisted given the situation.
“Sorry, forgot my heels tonight,” I choke out. I really need to learn how to keep my mouth shut in moments like this.
“Feisty.” He licks his lips.
“Fuck…you.” My voice catches on the last breath, but the intention is there. If he’s trying to rattle me, he won’t get shit.
“Run,” Steven demands. “Faster.”
I stumble forward and pick up my feet, pushing through the blistering pain I feel in my back and hips. I run toward the bar and slip on the floor behind it, which happens to save my life, otherwise my head would have hit the bar counter before I had a chance. When I get to my feet, Steven is pulling his fist out of the splintered wood surface. His eyes find mine, and he stalks forward with measured steps..
I grab for a bottle of Hennessy on the nearby shelf and slam it down against the counter. It shatters into brilliant shards ofglass, leaving behind a jagged end that I hold up and point against him.
“Whatcha gonna do with that, baby?” He tilts his head, taunting, as he nods toward the bottle.
“Come at me again and find out for yourself.”
He materializes before me and I swing the bottle at him. With one hand, he stops me and slams my arm back against the bar, twisting it so horribly that I feel a pop in my shoulder. I scream; my shoulder burning with intense pain. Steven laughs and twists harder, pressing and pushing, as if he might rip it off entirely. With my good hand, I search the bar and find a jagged piece of glass from the bottle. I squeeze it hard enough in my palm that I draw blood, which catches his attention.
The pressure on my arm eases as he locks in on the fresh wound. When he lunges for my hand, I grip the shard with red fingers and sink the pointed end of it into one of his eyes. Steven yowls and jumps backward, slamming into the bar. Bottles topple around us and shatter. Broken glass cuts into my feet, coating my new wounds in expensive liquor. I bite my lip to hold in a sob. Somehow, the littlest cuts burn the most.
“You stupid fucking bitch!” Steven yowls behind me.
