AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She turns the rest of her body, and she walks toward me slowly… warily.
“Karma is my sister,” she says after a long pause. Her eyes flick toward the streets, then she comes closer to me. “She’s sick?”
I nod slowly, wondering what sort of sibling thing I’ve stumbled into. You’d think they’d call her if it was serious.
“Obviously you’d know if it was bad.”
Something akin to regret flashes in her eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly. “You’re hurt, and we apparently need to talk.”
Before I can argue, her hand is on my shoulder, and I feel myself being lifted, transported, shifted in a thousand directions at once. It’s like riding a hundred carnival rides in one night, and the second the weightlessness stops, the vomiting commences.
And continues.
And acts like it’s never going to end.
Oh, fuck my night.
“Hope you’re cleaning that up,” a guy’s voice says, and I stagger, unable to look around because I’m still retching.
“She’s obviously mortal. Be glad it’s just vomit and not blood,” another says.
“I know how to shift them around without killing them,” the Karma look-a-like says dryly. “Someone can use their magic to clean it up. We’ll be in my room. Tell Slade I might have a new recruit, though I’m not sure what she is yet. I do know there’s more than meets the eye.”
Slade? The psychotic butcher guy with scars?
I’m not sure what they say back, because this time I’m not faking it when I pass out.
Chapter 8
ZEE
“The taste. The taste. I love the taste,” Sylvia sings, moving from one body to another inside the basement. Five men are strung up by their ankles, the scent of their blood still taunting me, and their taste still lingering in my mouth.
But my mind is focused on one thing: how much I hate Sylvia.
Their eyes are wide with fear even in their deaths. The last thing they saw was the psychotic bitch who took them. Who stole them from their lives.
They’re luckier than I am. They’re done. They don’t have to be the puppet on strings she works like she does me.
“They say I’m weak,” Sylvia says. “They say my sired bonds are weaker.”
She pouts like an offended child who is sulking in a corner. I hate these nights. She reverts to childish, immature conversation and emotions.
I hate her.
“They think because you boys don’t stay enamored for long, that I’m a worthless line. But they’re wron
g. I just get to make more of you.”
She turns her eyes toward me, and they narrow. “Are you trying to break our bonds, Zee?”
Not yet, but only because it still hurts too much to break the first one.
Defying a direct order is like being dipped in acid until I comply. But eventually, I’ll be able to do it. I’ll survive the first broken bond, and she’ll never see it coming when I kill her.
Unless someone else beats me to it.
The problem with siring so many of us, is the fact there are more like me who want her dead.
