He caressed her cheek with numb fingers. “It’s the only way.”
She shook her head, then grabbed his still-bleeding wrist and began to drink.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The only thingmore terrifying than the strength coursing through Felicity’s body was the equally fearsome hunger that clawed at her stomach. Her new instincts urged her to follow the scent of blood, even though Jonathan was lying limp on the ground. He’d sacrificed himself so she’d live. She knew this because she’d seen it in his mind. It wasn’t quite like reading thoughts, more like a scattered impression of images and bursts of emotion. He expected her to flee the house without him and was relying on the other vampires in his nest—whom he’d likely sensed were nearby—to keep her from slaughtering any humans outside.
The only flaw in her plan was that she had no intention of leaving without him.
But as she grasped his body and lifted him—he was so light!—she kept thinking about how incredible it would feel to sink her teeth into her great-uncle’s throat and hear him scream. Her mouth was so dry, and her stomach felt like it were full of sand.
She realized she had put Jonathan back on the floor and picked him up for a second time. He was more important than the cravings invading her mind. According to his previous thoughts, she would have only a few minutes before her fledgling strength waned, and she collapsed. She had to make the most of every second.
She examined the steps and dismissed them. They wouldn’t hold her weight, much less both of them. Instead, she found a cracked window, bent her knees and leaped, shattering the glass and landing on her feet in an alley.
There was no one else around. She could leave Jonathan here and go searching for prey. Sharp claws contracted around her stomach. She fell to her knees, and Jonathan slid out of her grasp. A second later, three figures melted out of the shadows and gathered him up.
These were vampires. Much older than her. Stronger, too.
God, she was hungry.
Her great-uncle and cousins would not see her coming.
She turned around and started running but slammed into the solid chest of a man. Then, hands clasped around her arms, a wad of fabric was shoved into her mouth, and her vision went black.
*
When she awokeagain, she was lying on her stomach on a stone floor, and her throat was parched. Worse than her thirst, however, were the pungent scent of sour wine, the buzz of insects, and the bitter taste of dirt on her tongue. She tried to roll onto her back, but every movement sent dull pain skittering across her skin. It was as if someone had taken an abrasive cloth and rubbed her flesh raw.
It didn’t make sense. She was a vampire now. Her burns should have healed already.
The fire.
She jolted upright and took in her surroundings. To her left and right were heavy, steel bars rising to the ceiling. There was a cot in a corner, upon which a blanket-covered figure rested.
Jonathan.
She crawled as quickly as her aching body allowed, then curled against his back.
If they were going to die, at least they’d do it together.
Why the hurry to perish?
That was his voice inside her head.
A faint thrum of humor trickled through the still-raw connection between their minds. The sensation was incredibly strange, like her consciousness had expanded outside of her physical body, but she latched on to it eagerly because it meant he was still alive.
You’re not allowed to die, she thought.
His amusement reached her again, stronger this time, but it was tinged with pain. She couldn’t tell if it was her own throat that ached, or his, or both. Regardless, it was tremendously uncomfortable. She imagined getting up and pressing her lips to the gurgling crack in the wall, but a disapproving response from Jonathan reminded her that water wouldn’t satisfy her thirst. A brief image of Felicity sinking her teeth into his neck accompanied the thought.
No. Absolutely not. He was so weak, and she’d taken so much of his blood already.
“Do not bite him,” a deep voice said.
She knew who it was, of course, because Jonathan knew. It was the eldest member of Jonathan’s nest, the Earl of Kingsbury. The vampire who had killed Vincent and Uncle Ethan.
He wore a brown Chesterfield coat embellished with gold braids, trousers of the same color, and a black top hat. Evening wear. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver flask, and tossed it between the bars. It landed in the dirt above her head.
