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A girl with longer dark hair is just staring at me. “If you make her bleed, I’ll see if I know her blood,” she finally says, and I swallow really damn hard after hearing that.
“You’d know her face if you knew her blood,” the guy named Thad tells her, kissing her like she didn’t just ask for my blood.
I’m in a house full of sociopaths. How did this happen?
And to think I was chasing one of these guys—trying to cyber stalk him.
My therapist will need therapy after hearing all this.
“Not so. Sometimes they fed me blood from unknowns to have it in me just in case. I didn’t always get sent on retrieval for all the samples I tasted.”
If a thought-bubble formed over my head, it would say, “Dafuq?”
“I’m not sure what brand of crazy this is, nor do I care. I’ve studied a lot of occults with Marilyn, so I get that you all have a herd mentality and you follow one alpha. I’m not trying to disrupt your society. I just want to get us out of here alive. So tell me how to make that happen. I swear we won’t say anything to anyone. If you don’t believe it, then research her more. You’ll see she’s never once given up the names of her sources, and she’s written about a lot of illegal activity in the past.”
It’s worth a shot, and it’s the only shot I have.
Dice snorts, then takes a bow. “I’m our alpha. Ignore my followers. They lost their manners a few centuries ago.”
“Fuck off, incubus,” G-name guy says.
“Hashtag, alpha. Learn it, beta bitch. Now she knows,” Dice says, grinning like this is funny.
“Sociopaths,” I murmur, cracking my fingers as I glance around for anything I can use as a weapon.
That one time in Bangkok that I had to use a weapon comes back to me. Marilyn’s fault. It was just a letter opener, but it stabbed through the guy’s hand like it was a knife on steroids, and we got away from the psycho drug dealer we accidentally stumbled upon.
That was one, seriously high, somewhat slow man. This is a room full of sober, psychotic, very dangerous people. And Marilyn can’t run. Hell, she can’t even function at all right now.
My eyes land on a crossbow in the corner, and a sense of hope fills me. I’ve never shot one, nor do I know how to, but I’m a quick study and desperate. I doubt anyone wants to sacrifice themselves, so one arrow is plenty. As long as no one thinks they’re that badass.
“Don’t even think about it.” Zee’s voice has me snapping my eyes up to meet his deadly glare.
Shit. How he went from my accidental obsession to my newest fear is a little too much to think about right now.
“Too many coincidences, and not enough explanation,” Zee says, stepping in front of the crossbow. “Why would you follow a stranger into a dark house? Why aren’t you a mess like her if you witnessed all that?”
I glare at him, and he glares back. Why was I obsessed with this arrogant asshole? He’s a lunatic and a kidnapper. A heartless kidnapper.
Marilyn hiccups around another whimper, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders.
“Maybe my weird-shit-tolerance level is higher. I don’t know. And we followed him because the freak with the scars disappeared. Into thin fucking air. Why aren’t you questioning any of that? Why do you act like that’s not even a big part of the story?”
His eyes flash a scary looking blue, and they get so bright that my sanity becomes questioned yet again. That’s not natural.
“I’m with Zee on this,” Chaz, the blonde-haired douche says.
These guys are nothing but freaky-eyed bullies.
One second, Chaz is across the room, the next, he’s right in front of me. My breath leaves in a rush when he gets right in my face, and my entire body trembles. Supernatural bullies is apparently a better depiction, because this shit is not natural. At all. None of it.
“That’s real fear,” a girl says. “Back off, Chaz. If she was in with Slade, she wouldn’t be afraid at all.”
“Why?” Chaz drawls, not backing up an inch. In fact, he leans in closer, invading my space so much that I can feel his breath skitter across my face. “Slade wouldn’t come to her rescue. She would know that. The fear doesn’t prove innocence, just intellect.”
“You’re all crazy,” I say in a hoarse rasp. “All of this and you.”
His eyes do a weird, gold-flecked thing mixed with black, and my skin crawls as I inch back on the sofa, wishing I could put so much more space between us.
