Night's Promise(97)
Where was the best place to find blood?
She knew the answer almost before she asked the question. Hurrying into the bathroom, she came to an abrupt halt when she passed in front of the mirror. She knew a moment of horror with the realization that she cast no reflection. Good thing she didn’t need a mirror to apply her lipstick, she thought, and smothered a burst of hysterical laughter as she stepped into the shower. She was amazed at how wonderful it felt. She could feel each drop of water splashing against her skin.
She washed quickly, avoided looking at the mirror as she went into the bedroom and dressed in her favorite Goth gown, boots, and wig.
Moments later, a thought took her to Drac’s Dive. It was like being there for the first time. Colors were sharper, brighter, the music was louder, the notes were more distinct, and the smell—people, booze, sweat, fear, desire, lust. And, over all that, the beating of dozens of hearts, the rich, coppery scent of blood.
She stood inside the door, trying to absorb everything at once even as she wondered how to shut out the constant barrage of sounds and smells.
“It takes practice,” said a familiar voice. “In time, you’ll learn to shut it out.”
“Logan! What are you doing here?”
“Derek sent me.”
Derek. Something twisted deep inside her at the sound of his name.
“He should be here, not me. He sired you. Teaching you how to adjust to your new lifestyle is his responsibility, but he said you didn’t want to see him. Is that right?”
“Yes. I never want to see him again.”
“Are you sure?”
“I have no desire to talk about Derek. Just tell me what I need to know.”
Taking her by the arm, Logan led her to a booth in the far corner. He gestured for her to sit, then slid in beside her. “I think you already know most of it. All you’re lacking is confidence in your abilities. You need to forget all your preconceived notions about drinking blood. Your mind will tell you it’s repulsive. Don’t listen. Open yourself to your new nature.”
“I don’t want to be a vampire.” She glanced at all the wannabe vampires milling around the club and wondered if they would still wish for someone to bring them across if they knew what it was really like.
“Sheree?”
“I don’t want to be a vampire,” she said again. And then she smiled. She didn’t have to be a vampire. All she had to do was find Pearl and Edna and ask them to whip up a new batch of their serum. It had worked on newly turned vampires in the past. Why not on her?
She groaned as pain knifed through her again.
“Come on,” Logan said, “you need blood.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“You won’t.” Taking her by the arm, he led her out of the club and into the shadows at the end of the street. Biting into his wrist, he held it out to her. “Vampires don’t usually drink from others of their kind, but tonight we’ll make an exception.”
Sheree’s mouth watered at the sight of the dark red blood slowly oozing from the wound. Shutting her mind to everything else, she grasped his forearm.
“No!”
Startled by Derek’s voice, Sheree dropped Logan’s arm.
Derek shoved his stepfather away, then stepped between Logan and Sheree. “If you’re going to drink vampire blood, Sheree Blackwood, it’s going to be mine.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m looking after my wife.”
“Leave me alone. I hate you.”
“I don’t care. Logan’s right. Teaching you how to be a vampire is my responsibility, and I’m taking over, right now.” Derek glanced at Logan. “You got a problem with that?”
“She’s all yours.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, Logan strolled back to the club.
“Do you want to feed from me, or learn how to hunt?” Derek asked.
Sheree started to tell him to go to hell when the pain doubled her over. She wrapped her arms around her waist, certain she was dying, and hurting too badly to care.
Stifling a curse, Derek bit into his wrist. “Drink.”
She wanted to refuse, but the scent of his blood enflamed her senses. Grasping his arm in both hands, she lowered her head and took what she so desperately craved.
Later, she was embarrassed by what she had done.
“No reason to be self-conscious about it,” Derek said. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
“I don’t need you to take me.”
“Don’t argue with me, wife,” he warned, taking her hand in his. “I’m bigger. I’m older. I’m stronger.”
“You’re nothing but a bully!” Eyes flashing defiance, she tried to wrest her hand from his, but he was right. He was definitely stronger.