Chapter 35
Elliott | Highlands, present day
‘I thought I’d be able to talk to you telepathically if I was a vampire,’ I say, kissing my way along Sadie’s jawline and burying my nose in her hair. She smells so good. I nibble on her earlobe, careful not to dislodge her gold ear cuff, and snake an arm around her trim waist. ‘But no go.’
She seems her usual self again, thank God. I thought after she’d discovered Lucy had turned me into a vampire and stormed off in a rage, that was it for us. But the way she’s leaning into my touch now suggests she must’ve been worried shitless about me.
‘Yeah, me too. I’m just getting static. That sucks balls,’ she murmurs, and I chuckle.
‘Knowing how much you hate Hester reading your thoughts, I doubt you’d like it if I did.’
‘I wouldn’t mind if it was you,’ she says softly, pulling down my zipper. A fire ignites in my belly as she touches my hard cock through my briefs. I haven’t washed in days, but she doesn’t seem to care.
‘Mmm, bite me if you want,’ I say, angling my neck towards her lips as I can see her fangs have extended. I have scratchy stubble (which she hates), but I know she must be craving my blood. My own fangs are extended and itching to sink into her flesh, yet I hold myself back. This is about her.
Sadie strokes my shaft, and I moan, wishing we weren’t in a goddamn forest right now. But she’s hesitating.
‘Go on, take a drink, gorgeous,’ I urge. ‘I’m OK. I’m at full capacity from the boar.’
‘I want to, but ...’ Sadie flinches, fear flashing in her eyes. My eyebrows draw together at her reaction. I’ve never seen her afraid of anything.
‘What is it?’
‘I just ... I can’t,’ she gasps. Sadie yanks her hand from my cock, and I mourn the loss of it.
Low voices float on the air, and I take a step back and hastily zip up. Sadie’s mouth sets, and her blue eyes frost over when she hears Lucy’s high-pitched giggle amongst the others.
I wish I could convey my thoughts to Sadie, about how much I don’t want Lucy.
About how much I want her. Uncertainly, I hold her hand as we wait for them to catch up, and she lets me.
It’s enough for now. However, I sense it’s not the others’ untimely arrival that freaked her out. It’s something else.
***
The sky is rosy streaked as we tramp across a dew-laden field towards a modern-looking wood and stone house. It has a slanted roof covered in solar panels.
Now I’m the one who’s freaking out, knowing that I’m about to meet Tim Rhodes, Sadie’s ex. The only guy who’s ever proposed to her, as far as I’m aware. OK, she turned him down. But still. He took the initiative and asked her, so I do have a grudging respect for him.
Despite the unresolved issue with Alexander, the mood within our little vampiric group was positive on the walk back.
The general consensus was that the jaunt into the forest had several great outcomes.
These included finding me and Damian getting fed.
‘As well as gaining a new vampire friend!’ added Floss.
‘Thank you,’ said Lucy. ‘It’s really great to meet you all.’ She smiled at us but kept well away from Sadie, who was gnashing her teeth next to me.
I’ve never seen her so territorial. The way she’s acting makes me feel confident that she doesn’t have unresolved feelings for Tim. That she wants only me. But there’s still something going on with her.
We pause outside the front door to adjust our clothes and flick twigs and dead leaves out of each other’s hair. Yet Damian and Lucy have dried blood crusted around their mouths, and I’m sure I don’t look any better.
‘Isn’t he going to freak having six vampires turn up on his doorstep when only four left last night? I’d be running for the hills,’ I say.
‘Tim’s cool,’ replies Sadie. ‘He’s got his own agenda.’
I’m not entirely sure what she means by that.
Damian rings the doorbell, and we wait. But there’s no sound of footsteps heading our way.
‘Perhaps he went out?’ suggests Hester.
Or ran for the hills, I think privately.
‘His car’s still there.’ Damian tries the door handle, and it swings open to an ominous silence. ‘This should be locked,’ he says, sounding worried.
The familiar scents of roses and expensive aftershave flow to my sensitive nostrils. I sniff them warily. Oh no, should I say something?
Floss beats me to it. ‘Alexander was here,’ she says flatly.
Everyone freezes.
‘Oh dear,’ whispers Lucy to me. ‘Poor Uncle Tim. He’s a goner.’
Before I can grab her, Sadie slips around Damian and races into the house.
‘Wait, he might still be—’
But she doesn’t listen. Goddammit! My legs take off after her like we’re joined by an invisible thread.
Where she goes, I go. I just wish I had a weapon.
My tongue inadvertently touches my fangs—oh right, haha, I do!
Alexander is going to feel these sharp puppies in his neck if he lays a hand on my girl.
A quick head poke into an airy lounge of muted brown and stone decor shows me it’s empty. But then there’s a loud cry from the adjoining room, and I quail. No you don’t, motherfucker!
I burst through the door into a state-of-the-art kitchen, fangs bared and fists clenched. But there’s only Sadie, crouched over a middle-aged man lying on the floor. He’s wearing a blue-and-white striped apron; and I assume, with a sinking feeling, that it’s Tim.
He doesn’t look good: eyes closed, face grey, and two fang marks in his neck weeping bright red blood. Strangely, he’s grasping a plastic spatula in one hand, as if he was using it as a weapon.
Sadie looks up, wild-eyed.
‘Quick, get me a sharp knife!’ she hisses, and I head towards the knife block on the counter. But she changes her mind before I get there, muttering, ‘There’s no time.’ She rips into her wrist and holds it over Tim’s lips. ‘Drink, please drink,’ she moans.
The others quietly enter the kitchen and gather round. There’s a hushed silence as we watch Sadie’s blood dribble uselessly out of Tim’s mouth and form a puddle on the floor beside his head.
Hester bends and places a hand on her shoulder. ‘I think he’s gone ... We’re too late.’ It’s what we’re all thinking. It looks like he’s been dead for hours. Alexander must’ve tracked Floss’s scent to the house and decided to have a midnight feast when he discovered Tim alone.
Sadie lets out a choked cry. ‘No!’ She opens Tim’s lips and rubs her blood over his lips and teeth, making sure it drips into his mouth, but it doesn’t do anything. She tips her head back and lets out a screech of fury.
Damian is as white as a ghost. He rakes a hand through his purple-streaked hair and it stands on end. ‘Fuck, fuck! This is all my fault. What am I going to tell Dad?’
Not only that, I think. But you’ll have to explain to your dad why you’ve now got glowing green eyes and fangs … not an easy conversation!
Floss hugs him, muttering that it’s not his fault. That it’s her scumsucker of a sire’s fault, and even more, that it’s her fault—she should’ve staked him in 1921.
I lean against the counter and drag my hand over my face, knowing that Tim’s fate would have most certainly been mine if Lucy hadn’t turned me last night.
Speaking of which, Lucy is the only one who doesn’t seem too concerned. She steps forward, reaches into her pocket, and hands Hester a syringe filled with red fluid. ‘It’s a long shot, but try this. In his heart. It’s potent.’
Hester doesn’t hesitate. She rips open Tim’s shirt, plunges the needle into his hairy chest, and pumps in the lot à la Pulp Fiction.
Sadie comes over to me, and I put my arm around her. We all stare at Tim sprawled on the floor. The only sound in the room is the creak of the window frames as the breeze picks up outside. Sadie’s fingers find mine, and she buries her head in my chest. ‘I can’t look,’ she whispers.
For a minute, nothing happens. But then the spatula twitches. Once. Then again. Then Tim’s left foot.
‘Look, I think something’s happening,’ I whisper to her.
Sadie turns around and gasps as both of Tim’s feet, his legs, his arms, and then his entire body starts twitching.
Even his crotch. I cover Sadie’s eyes when that starts happening, but she pushes my hand away impatiently.
He jerks and writhes around on the floor like an electric eel, bloody froth oozing from his lips.
Astonished, we all stare, not wanting to go near him. Eventually, the juddering stops, and Tim’s eyes fly open. He lies there, looking up at the ceiling fan, blinking.
Sadie takes a cautious step forward. ‘Tim? Are you—’
Before she can finish, Tim lets out a snarl, pushes up from the floor, and leaps onto the kitchen island.
Dropping to a crouch, he rips away the front of his corduroy trousers and palms his erect cock through the gaping hole.
Huge fangs extend from his mouth, and venom drips down his chin.
He whines and growls and pants as he jerks off frantically in front of us, seemingly unable to control himself.
Oh dear. I cover Sadie’s eyes again and Hester’s!
‘See,’ says Lucy proudly, gesturing at the horny slavering beast that was Uncle Tim. ‘I told you it was potent.’