CHAPTER FOUR
bloom
I was sprawledout on my back on the floor, regretting every decision I’d ever made, when Maverick returned.
He wasn’t alone this time.
My fangs were still descended and throbbing, but I was trying to ignore them. Something told me they weren’t going to stop until I washed Maverick’s weird scent off my skin. Or maybe just fed.
I sat up slowly, taking care to keep my blood-crusted hair and sweater off my wound as I silently took in the man who’d come inside with the Alpha wolf.
I’d seen pictures of him online, too. Rhone Longfang, the Alpha Pack’s Beta.
He was built slightly thicker than Maverick, with long, black hair that had been tied up in a man bun that somehow managed to make him look more ferocious.
All he had on was a pair of sweats. Black tattoos began at the top of his throat and decorated nearly every exposed inch of his olive skin.
He was barefoot, like Maverick. Maybe that was a werewolf thing. I’d never heard of it, but I’d only been trained on how not to be caught by one of them. Which clearly hadn’t worked out for me.
Rhone came up close to the bars of the cage and studied my neck with his electric blue eyes. “That’s a fucking huge bite.”
Maverick’s jaw was slightly clenched as he stepped up next to Rhone, but he didn’t respond.
Rhone’s nostrils flared.
The men didn’t look at each other, but I was somewhat confident werewolves had some kind of mental connection that allowed them to communicate without speaking.
My eyes caught on Maverick’s chin. Specks of my blood were still dried in the copper scruff there.
“What’s your name?” Rhone finally asked me, folding his arms over his chest.
Maverick answered for me. “Bloom.”
“Bloom? Like a flower? She’s a fucking vampire.”
“I noticed.”
If they thought my name was bad, they really didn’t know vampires. All vampires had been giving their children ridiculous names since the end of the war. It started as an attempt to make us seem less like the terrifying murderers the rest of society thought we were.
My mom’s name was Taffy. My dad’s was Glint. My sister’s was Whimsy, and her wife’s was Mouse.
I could’ve had it much worse than Bloom.
“I didn’t do it.” I was still talking around my fangs. “The bite would’ve healed by now if I had drained Steven last night.”
“How do you know it didn’t happen this morning?” Rhone asked.
Dammit.
I really needed to think more before I spoke.
Sleeping would help with that. I was really regretting that all-nighter. I should’ve just let the werewolves pay another fine instead of rushing to get the paperwork done.
“Vampire kids are shown pictures of victims at different stages of decomposition. It’s supposed to scare us so we don’t turn into murderous monsters. There are some images you can’t get out of your mind after seeing them,” I explained.
“And Steven happened to look like one of those images.” Rhone didn’t sound impressed.
“Yes. Draining someone before tearing the wound to hide the size of your bite is a vampire classic.”
