Page 15

The man, however, only made it halfway across the room before someone stepped into his path. I held my breath, waiting for the person to move or for the man to step around them, but neither happened. A curly-haired man in a leather jacket blocked my view of the gorgeous stranger, and it became clear they were talking. A moment later, the two men wandered off together, smiling and chatting comfortably.

I should have felt relieved. I didn’t need whatever the stranger had to offer. But crushing disappointment crowded out everything else. I tried to comfort myself, knowing the disappointment stemmed only from my newly single status and all the time I’d spent alone. But as it faded, it left me feeling pathetic. I should have been grateful. The guy was undoubtedly on the hunt, not for a long-term commitment. I’d probably dodged a bullet and another round of heartache.

7

VINCENT

Imoved through the crowded bar, heading for the blond human in the corner, when the dark-haired man—with the incredible lashes—stepped out, blocking my path. I’d been so distracted by the beautiful creature by the window that I hadn’t noticed the other man’s approach. I recovered quickly, however, and chose not to pass up the opportunity. I switched my target. It was always easier to hunt when my prey came to me. I should have been happy to let this one take the lead, but as the dark-haired man led me to a quieter corner of the bar, I felt a pang of loss.

I shook off the feeling and focused on getting what would make me feel better, what would end my restlessness. The conversation was pleasant and easy, but I was only half listening. The ritual back-and-forth no longer interested me.

This type of hunt was growing tiresome, but I pretended. I was good at that. The man nodded in all the right places and smiled brightly as I spoke. By then, I was mostly unaware of what I was saying; it had all become automatic. How tedious it had all become, I thought.

It wasn’t long before the right combination of words was exchanged, and I left the bar with the tipsy, dark-haired man on my arm. We walked north along the blocks of businesses closed for the night. I held on tightly as he stumbled, drawing him closer. We approached a narrow alley, and I looked around. We were unobserved. With a sudden tug around his waist, I pulled the man into the shadows.

There was no struggle. The man fell into my arms, and soon I was taking deep pulls from the vein in his neck. But as I drank, a feeling of dread rose within me. The man was nearly drained, yet the rush I sought still eluded me. I wanted to weep. I wanted to rage. I wanted it all to go away.

I stopped drinking. This thought kept ringing in my mind, and that’s when I noticed an odd taste on my tongue. At first, I’d been too preoccupied with my eagerness, and later with my despair, to notice. But now, as I moved my tongue around in my mouth, I could tell something was off. It wasn’t the flavor of any drug or spice I knew. The blood had a strange, cloying aftertaste that was quite unpleasant.

Looking down at my prey slumped in my arms, I realized the man wasn’t dead, just passed out. The horrible taste made finishing my meal out of the question, even if I’d been inclined to continue. I left the man in the alley. I’d started to walk away without closing his wounds, but I thought better of it. I’d intended for the man to die. I’d brought him there for that purpose. But it didn’t matter anymore. Trading this man’s life would get me nothing. Not the rush of the hunt. Not the thrill of power I craved. Nothing. I turned back and tended to my victim before leaving.

I walked on, trying to rid myself of the lingering taste of the man’s blood, but it clung to the inside of my mouth and seeped into my sinuses. An open bottle of some alcoholic beverage sat next to a full trash can. I rinsed my mouth and spat the contents onto the pavement. The liquor was strong and, thankfully, burned the taste away, leaving me irritated and vaguely nauseated. The vile blood had briefly pulled me out of my dark mood, but I felt it creeping back in as I neared home.

I walked back into the apartment and glanced at the door as it closed behind me. I’d only been gone six hours, yet all traces of my tantrum had vanished. The new knob looked like the old one, and the damage to the door had been repaired, making it hard even for me to tell the difference.

Seeing the repaired door filled me with guilt. My actions were inexcusable. Karl didn’t deserve such treatment. What had I allowed myself to become? How had things gone so off track? I looked at the door again. It was a simple enough thing to fix, but what about all the other things I’d broken over the past week? What about the numerous victims I’d left barely clinging to life, scattered across the city? I recalled my question from the park. What had it all been for? What was any of it for anymore?

My office called to me, and I let my feet carry me toward the massive windows.

I wanted to see the view.

I wanted to remember what I loved.

I wanted to know if I could still feel anything good.

Leaving the lights off, I locked the door behind me. Several hours remained until dawn, and Karl was still in the apartment, working. I didn’t want to be disturbed.

I paused before the floor-to-ceiling windows, soaking in the city for the millionth time. It was beautiful, even in my current mood. Yet instead of the comfort and peace the view usually brought, I felt only unease. I glanced over at my favorite reading chair, facing the windows. It was then that I understood how others of my kind could surrender themselves to the sun.

It would be so easy.

I could sit there, watching the city until the very end. It was tempting—very tempting—and that frightened me more than anything. The fear coursed through me, overwhelming my senses. I thought I could feel it physically.

The sensation felt real, and I placed my hand on my abdomen, confused. But it wasn’t fear. Another wave rocked my body. Pain. Real pain. A deep cramp gripped my insides in a way it hadn’t since before I became a vampire. I doubled over, clutching my middle, more shocked than hurt, though the pain was considerable.

I fell to my knees, digging my fingers into the plush carpet, and waited for the pain to pass, but it was unrelenting. It rolled in great waves, and my panic rose with each one. What was happening to me? I’d lived in this body for a very long time, and anything new could not be good.

A deeper agony surged through me, making my whole body shudder as my vision briefly blurred to darkness. I gasped for air, my arms and legs trembling with the effort. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the vomiting began.

Great gouts of blood poured from my mouth as I heaved. A macabre pool spread out across the light-colored carpet beneath me, and it kept coming as if it would never end. I heaved until I was so wrung out that I could no longer support my weight and collapsed into the gruesome mess now covering most of the study floor.

My face lay in the sticky, fast-cooling blood. I felt it seep into my clothing, but I was powerless to do anything about it. I couldn’t even keep my eyes open.

I lay there, unaware of how much time had passed. It must have been hours. I opened my eyes once or twice, but I couldn’t muster enough strength to push myself up off the floor. My limbs felt like lead, and my head ached so terribly that it was hard to form a coherent thought. Still, I knew I was in trouble.

The next time I opened my eyes, the lightening of the sky was the first thing I noticed, and a new fear gripped me. Despite my earlier thoughts of self-destruction, I realized I very much wanted to live. I didn’t want it to end here. I wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

This thought urged me to act. I lifted my head off the floor and managed to get an arm under me. However, that small victory took too long. I knew I was running out of time. Panic gave me strength, and I called out, my voice sounding strange in my ears—scratchy and rough.