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“I would love to see you try and kill me. Though, I assure you, that angelic mating bond is going to be your kryptonite.” He laughed at him, fueling the anger building inside Dustin.
It wasn’t until Oliver came up out of breath, tugging at Dustin, that he finally snapped back.
“Dustin, we need to go. Now.” Oliver urged, his eyes washing over me momentarily and then fading back to his brother in a desperate plea.
Dustin’s shoulders dropped. “Fine.” He growled, stampeding toward the door and tackling bodies to the ground as his fist made imprints into a few of the poor souls that were unlucky enough to land in his sights.
He didn’t even seem to care about my well-being. Or if I was okay. His anger had taken hold, and he was gone before I could catch up to him.
Daemon noticed me dragging my feet, barely moving toward the door, and without asking, swooped me over his shoulder as I hung against his back while he ran out the door away from the ensuing chaos inside the club.
All I could see was Azrael’s smile as he faded away, and his voice seemed to echo in my head as if he was suddenly inside it. “I’ll find you, my love. I’ll always be able to find you.”
Chapter 24
Freya
It had been a solid two days since I last saw Dustin.
Two days of grappling with the idea that I was now a succubus.
I found myself stuck in my apartment, stuck in my head, haunted by the fear of accidentally hurting someone. I rode out these waves of hunger and nausea, feeling this constant burning itch, a nagging need to feed.
Tina, my personal devil’s advocate, kept pushing me to give in, but I couldn’t bring myself to hurt an innocent soul, no matter how tempting it got.
Hoping to distract myself, I flicked on the TV, thinking maybe it could be a lifeline. But, surprise, surprise, it just made things worse. TV didn’t have the answers I needed, and I should’ve known better.
“A new string of attacks cripple New York as hordes of bodies continue to be found in alleyways and dumpsters.” The News Reporter said through the TV as he gestured to the ambulances behind him. “That is now roughly 300 bodies found, with possibly more to come until police discover what is behind these gruesome attacks.”
I flipped through channels, trying to find something mindless to distract myself from everything. But no luck. Even on a random soap opera channel, an emergency message popped up, urging everyone in New York to stay indoors because of the mass killings. Which I, of course, knew what the mass killings really were. It was all because of this war brewing among the demons and the lack of fear keeping them in line.
No matter how many times I changed the channel, that annoying emergency bar stayed put, a constant reminder of the messed-up reality outside. It felt like the universe was making sure that I couldn’t escape what I was trying to forget. I knew it was wishful thinking, hoping all of it would just disappear, even if it was just for a moment.
Abruptly, the sound of the doorbell pierced through the quiet of my apartment, causing an involuntary jolt in my heartbeat. Time seemed to pause, and I was caught in a moment of suspense. The air hung heavy with anticipation, my thoughts racing in tandem with the erratic beats of my heart. Who on earth would be dropping by unannounced?
Doubt crept in, intertwining with curiosity, and I hesitated, contemplating the consequences of turning the knob and facing the poor soul that was doomed to get trapped in my gaze if they simply glanced at me.
The doorbell kept on ringing like it had a personal vendetta. Whoever was on the other side wasn’t taking no for an answer and started banging on the door like they had a score to settle. Maybe it was the hunger messing with my head or the overall annoyance, but I felt this sudden surge of anger.
I stormed over to the door and, without much finesse, ripped it open. The thing practically swung off its hinges. In that split second, the noise stopped, and I was left standing there,door in hand, as Mr. Thomas stood there ogling me.
When our eyes met, I saw the surprise register on his face, his eyes widening briefly. It was like he wasn’t expecting to see me, or something had caught him off guard. But as quickly as it happened, this glazed-over look settled in, and he casually adjusted his suit as if trying to shake off any momentary lapse.
“You look… different.” He winked, and I felt disgusted at myself as the thought of feeding from him dangled in my mind. “We were worried about you. You’ve been missing for a week now, and with all the new killings, I wanted to stop by and see if you were okay. But –wow– you are better than okay. Gorgeous.” His mouth was quite literally watering at me.
Nausea surged up, a bitter coil in my throat, as I launched myself at him. My lips crashed into his with a force that felt like a desperate pull from deep within. It was as if my entire existence hinged on this moment, and my fingers clenched, tearing at the collar of his shirt as if trying to anchor myself to something tangible. The urgency was undeniable, overpowering any reluctance I might have had. It was a visceral need, conflicting with my reservations.
In the heat of the moment, I almost lost myself, and when I dropped him to the floor, I caught myself smiling. It was this messed-up mix of relief and regret.
I wiped my mouth, the taste of what I’d just done lingering, but I was too caught up in the moment to let it bother me. I was riding this weird mix of adrenaline and indifference, and it took a minute to collect myself.
Or at least, that’s when it hit me – Mr. Thomas wasn’t getting back up.
Thinking maybe he was pulling some weird prank, I lifted my slipper and nudged it into his foot, telling him to cut it out.But as he stayed motionless, my eyes drifted up to his face. The reality of the situation hit me, and I couldn’t shake off the sudden heaviness in the room as I looked plainly at him.
His eyes had gone pale, and a horrid grin spread across his face as if taunting me.
Panic flooded my senses as I fell to the ground. “No, no, no.” I cried out, trying to put Mr. Thomas’s suit back together as if that would do anything. “You can’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.”
