I’m fucking fed up with bullies thinking they can do whatever the hell they want.
With a look of disdain, he dismisses me and turns toward the young man still pinned to the wall like a bug. “Can you manage to control yourself long enough to have a discussion, or do I have to lock you in your own cell?”
Milo grimaces, his eyes downcast, and he shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
The man lowers him slowly, like he’s not sure if he believes him. When Milo’s feet touch the ground, he fusses with straightening his clothes, then reaches over and grabs the towel the other man offers him and wraps it around the wound in his arm.
A pang of guilt hits me, but then I glare at the asshole who tore him from my fangs. “What the hell is wrong with you? You could’ve seriously harmed him.”
His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, then he shakes his head a little, flipping his hair out of his eyes in the process, and then prowls toward me. “Says the vampire who was going to drain him of every last drop of his blood.”
I flinch at the disdain in his voice, unable to help but wonder if he might be right. Milo’s blood had tasted so good, and I was so hungry, that I wasn’t paying attention. Another wave of guilt slams into me when I notice Milo swaying, his already pale skin almost sickly.
I did that.
I could’ve killed him without thinking.
For the first time since being turned, I actually feel remorse for my actions. When I was at the mansion, I didn’t learn restraint. It was kill or be killed.
I honestly can’t say if I would’ve had the willpower to stop before I killed him. I’m so consumed with guilt that I barely blink when my shoulder finally pops into place with a snap, so used to pain that it has become my norm.
I nibble on my bottom lip, then growl in frustration when my fangs accidentally nick the flesh. Tiny droplets of blood well up, and I absently lick them away.
It’s only when I register the stillness in the room that I look up…and find both men a foot away from me, only the glass separating us. Milo places a hand on the glass, and the screen lights up. A scanner reads his palm print, but the other man grabs his wrist and yanks him away before the door can open.
I take a step back, something about the predatory way they’re staring at me sending a shiver of dread down my spine—like I’m a chocolate cake, and they have a sweet tooth that won’t be denied. I’m stuck between desire and revulsion at the thought of anyone feeding from me again.
I can still feel fangs sinking into my flesh over and over, claws slashing at my skin in a demand for more blood. My body is riddled with so much pain that it’s impossible to even think past the agony.
The pounding of glass barely breaches my panicked state. When I glance up, I discover I’m huddled on the other side of the room, making myself as small a target as possible. While Milo looks concerned, the other man appears…curious.
I bare my fangs at him, murderous rage filling me with each breath. “You’re just like the others. Touch me, and I’ll take great pleasure in killing you too.”
ChapterEight
CASTLE
Ipound my fists against the heavy bag, sweat dripping from me with each blow, but nothing can erase the image of watching the girl come against my fingers.
Even now, three days later, I can still smell her lust on my skin.
Almost taste her on my tongue, and my mouth waters.
Jolie.
Each time I land a punch, her name repeats in my head like a chant, urging me to hunt her down and claim her over and over again.
A growl of frustration climbs up my throat, and I hit the bag so hard that my fist splits the seams and sand pours to the hard mats. Stepping back, my head bows, my chest heaves, and I barely feel the sting of my bruised and bloodied knuckles as they slowly stitch themselves together. I was hoping that wearing myself out would keep me from thinking about her, but nothing seems to break my obsession with that infernal woman.
I can’t even escape from her in my sleep.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Jolie with her head tipped back in pleasure, and my teeth ache with the need to sink my fangs into her shoulder and lay claim to the temptress that has stolen my every thought.
Glancing across the gym, I notice Tobias isn’t having any more luck distracting himself. He’s running full out on the treadmill, smoke practically rising from the machine, but the wolf hasn’t stopped staring at the door for the last hour.
Rolling my neck, I grab a bottle of water and empty it in three large gulps—and yet it does nothing to appease my thirst. I crush the plastic in my grip, then toss it into the garbage. Grabbing a towel, I scrub my face and stalk toward the door. I only make it a few steps before Tobias charges across the room at a dead sprint, quickly falling into step next to me.
“What do you want?” I snarl, eyeing him for a moment without slowing my pace.
