“Come on,” he said. “Let’s fix that. I heard new vampires have a beginning period where they go througha lotof blood.”
I easily took his hand and followed without resisting, trusting him even though I’d barely trusted anyone when I was human. It didn’t make logical sense really, how I immediately felt safe with him. It was just instinctual. As I walked beside him, I was… settled. My body had already decided even if other parts of me were still catching up.
Even though I was happy to be alive, excited, and a little nervous to discover what it meant to be a vampire, I couldn’t shake the deep, lingering ache in my chest that something was missing. That someonewas missing.
16
CALIX
Cocking back the slide of my Glock with a sharp metallic snap, I leveled it at the blade propped against the target stand.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The recoil punched into my palm three times in rapid succession.
Two bullets ricocheted off the blade with shrill metallic screams as sparks burst through the air. The third clipped the edge before embedding itself deep into the wall behind it.
I stalked forward, crouching low to observe the blade beneath the bright lab lights. My eyes narrowed. Carefully feeling along the edges, I checked for dents, fractures, anything, but got nothing.
The perfect metal shimmered, untouched, its rainbow sheen almost taunting me, and my jaw flexed.
Dropping into the chair at the workbench, I scribbled notes onto the scattered papers in front of me, flipping pages too roughly,crumpling corners beneath my fingers while my mind pieced together all the possibilities.
A faint hint of rose brushed across my senses so suddenly my entire body reacted before my brain caught up. My head snapped up. The chair legs screeched violently against the concrete as I spun around.
Empty. No one was there. It was just a figment of my imagination.
My shoulders slowly sagged as I stared at the vacant doorway a second too long before dragging both hands over my face.
“You fucking idiot,” I muttered.
My elbows hit the table hard enough to rattle the tools beside me. I leaned forward, pressing my forehead into my palms while frustration rolled through me in slow waves.
Of course she wouldn't be here. She has Rack. She doesn't need you.
Closing my eyes, I reminded myself to breathe. I tried to get rid of these thoughts that plagued me, but all it took was one pulse of that ghostly heartbeat, the one that thumped at a different pace than mine, and I was consumed with thoughts of her all over again. I couldn't escape it.
I didn't know being a maker would be like this. I mean, I’d read about it in school and talked about it in theory, but it was so much more…vividthan I ever imagined.
My breath caught as something inside of me pinged. There she was.
I clenched my fists until my nails bit crescents into my palms, trying to ground myself, but it only made the connection sharper.
A flicker of shock hit me first. Then fear. Then confusion.
Jerking upright, my hand went to my chest as it tightened. Her emotions bled through the bond in uneven pulses, brushing against my mind like fingertips skimming skin.
Rack is there,I told myself, keeping my ass in my seat before I made a fool of myself. I was sure he was telling her everything she needed to know. Plus, I didn't want to appear before her right after the turn and see those eyes filled with fear, or worse, hate.
Over the years, I’d seen enough humans turn to know some of them never adjusted. Some mourned their humanity like a death. Some looked at their new reflection and only saw a monster trapped under their skin.
My mouth flattened into a bitter line as I stared blankly at the wall.
What if that’s what she sees when she looks at me now?The monster who stole her old life. The bastard who corrupted her. My fingers twitched against the table before curling tighter.
No.
Better to stay down here and learn how to live with this connection before I stood in front of her again. It might make things easier for Rack too. I was sure it was hard on him, me being her maker and having this bond that he wasn't a part of.
