Bloodlust #2
“Wait a second,” I pieced something together as he lifted my leg, “doctors don’t do this at home. How would you see your mom do this a million times?”
“It got you to shut up, didn’t it? Minus the screaming. You’ll be fine.” His eyes strayed to my ankle, which was covered in fresh blood. “What a waste,” he murmured. His fingers trailed along it, careful not to touch the injury itself, until they were drenched.
My stomach lurched as he licked them clean. “Do you have to keep doing that? It’s…” I was planning to say gross before I realized I didn’t know how to feel about it.
“Do you want me to stop?” He gently stroked my skin, running through the blood a second time.
My heart was racing—I’d gotten so used to the vampire thing that seeing him actually lust over my blood was a shock.
“I could clean it, you know.” He licked a finger, then traced my blood again. “We don’t need water.”
“I…” I froze, watching him play with my blood.
Taste my blood. Maybe this was a mistake.
Maybe I’d gotten too comfortable and coming here was a dangerous idea.
“I think the medicine is working,” I realized.
The pain had dwindled to a strong ache and the nausea was slowly receding.
“And you can’t have my blood. Use water. ”
“If you insist.” He slid me close for easy access to the sink. “You should probably change.” He washed his hands while the water ran to room temperature.
“Why?”
“The combination of your blood and the skirt. It’s… tempting.” His eyes stayed on the running water.
“So?” My skirt had come unzipped again, leaving only the remaining three inches of fabric at the top of each side. “That’s what self-control is for. Use it.” I tilted my head to see his eyes darkening. “Is that what that means?”
“What?” He felt the water before deciding it was a good temperature and placing my ankle beneath it. The water stung, but the pain was nothing compared to before.
“When your eyes turn black. It means you want blood? Or sex. Or both?” I leaned back on my palms, watching the blood rinse away. “I can’t believe this is turning you on.”
“Look at how you’re sitting,” he shot back.
I smiled and leaned forward. “Be happy I have something underneath today.”
“Do you usually not?”
“Depends on the day.” I watched as he grabbed the paper towels and ointment. “Can I do that part? I feel so pointless sitting around doing nothing.”
“Sure.” He tossed both my way. I managed to grab the roll of towels, but the tube clattered to the floor. He laughed and picked it up. “You need someone to teach you how to catch.”
“Tell my dad that. Or my mom. Any parent would do.”
“Have you always been this screwed up?”
I couldn’t tell if he was trying to insult me or genuinely curious. He seemed on the fence. Honestly, I didn’t mind the question. “I dunno.” I twisted to wash my hands before taking the ointment. “I don’t remember. Ask Ari, she’d probably know.”
He leaned against the wall, watching while I dried my ankle and rubbed ointment across the mangled skin. His eyes were still a darker shade than usual, but they were nothing like when he’d almost snapped in the alley.
“I didn’t ‘almost snap.’ I probably wouldn’t have even killed you.”
“Probably? That is not a good enough answer. And stop reading my mind.”
“Then—”
“Stop thinking about me,” I finished, making a face.
“I wasn’t. I was thinking about your eyes.
” I screwed the lid on and washed the extra cream from my hands.
The Vicodin was kicking in more and more.
I started swinging my good leg, but it stopped when he placed a hand on my thigh. “What’s your problem?” I asked.
“You.” He made sure I stopped before letting go. “I don’t think you get it.”
“Get what?” I leaned back as he set a layer of gauze against my injury and began wrapping it up. “Tell me. I wanna know.”
“I have regular self-control, but bloodlust is a different thing. Hold these.” He waited for me to hold a metal contraption on either side of my ankle before starting on the next bandage wrap.
“This is really stiff.” I tried to move my ankle while he wrapped, but it was impossible.
“That’s the point, since you’re stubborn and won’t get a cast. Don’t move. I’m trying to set it.”
“Do we really need another one?” I asked as he began wrapping the third. This seemed excessive.
“Yeah. Unless you want the bone to pop out so I can push it back again. I wouldn’t mind the screams.” He smiled when I shivered at the memory.
“No, thanks.”
“Didn’t think so.” He sealed the final wrap with clips along its seam. “I’ll be back. Don’t move.”
I looked around once he’d left the room, finally taking in my surroundings.
Their condo was nicer than I’d expected for a bunch of guys.
Decent, at least. A minute passed before I decided to unlace my lone boot and wiggle it off.
If I was going half shoeless, I may as well go the distance. At least it wouldn’t feel so weird.
“What’re you doing?” Dennis was in the doorway with my boxers and a pair of crutches.
“Taking my shoe off. Success!” I cheered as it finally dropped.
He offered the crutches and I gladly took them, eager to have some way of getting around on my own.
I wobbled as he helped me slide off the counter and get balanced between them.
“Thanks. I think I’m good now.” I made to leave, but he stopped me partway. “What?”
“You should change first.”
“Then go away so I can.” I tried to take the boxers, but he pulled them away.
“You probably need help,” he said, taking in the way I was trying to balance on my good leg. It wasn’t working too well.
“So get Ari,” I said. He smiled and pressed a hand on the door, causing it to fall shut. “Really?”
“Really.”
“So you can’t handle me in the skirt, but you can handle taking me out of it?” I rolled my eyes and tried to crutch past, then yelped when I tripped over air. He caught me, holding tight until I regained balance. “Go away.” I shook him off. “I can change by myself.”
“Go ahead.” He gave me the boxers and I set to work.
Only it was impossible while standing on one foot.
I couldn’t even get the skirt off. “Fine. Just shut up and help me.” I gripped the crutches while he took hold of my skirt and slid it down.
Slowly. So slowly. My breath caught as it eased past my hips—he was moving like a fucking snail. “What is wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?” He looked up with a sly smirk. “I don’t see a problem.”
“Hurry up!”
“Sorry, princess.” He had my skirt off in a flash, then set it aside to replace with boxers. He pulled them halfway up and stopped. “So tell me, how much did that tattoo hurt?” He ran a finger over my middle name and the lipstick print beside it.
“Why’re you making this so difficult?” I could barely form words with the way my thoughts were straying.
“Because it’s funny?” His darkened eyes flickered to my lips.
We stared at each other for a few seconds before I pointedly looked at the boxers. “Are you gonna put those on me or stand there like an idiot?”
“I think I’ll stand for a while,” he said. “Tell me about yourself. I thought purple and black were your favorite colors, but I see you like red, too. And lace. Is this a new habit, or have you always worn this kind?” His fingers moved from the tattoo to the hem of my underwear.
“You know what? I changed my mind. I don’t need your help. I’m a strong independent soon to be vampire and I can do it myself. No more damseling for me. I change my own pants.”
“You wanna do it yourself?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes! Go away.”
“Alright. Good luck.” He let the boxers fall down my legs, laughing as he opened the door and walked out.
“I don’t need luck, asshole.” I briefly let go of the crutches and bent to grab the boxers. A loud thud sounded as a crutch crashed into the wall. A deranged laugh came from somewhere in the condo. “You suck!” I shouted.
Eventually I managed to get the boxers on, then irritably crutched to the living room. When I got there, Dennis was seated on the couch with an empty cushion between himself and Ari.
“Ice cream?” He smiled cutely, holding out the unopened carton. He had a spoon in the other hand all ready for me.
“You’re mean.” I took it and sat, then leaned the crutches against the table.
“You look a little better,” Sean said.
“Yeah. The drugs help.” I crammed a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth as Ari beamed.
“I’m glad.” Her voice was filled with relief.
“Me too. Want some?” I offered her a spoonful of ice cream.
“I’m lactose intolerant, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” I giggled. “Oopsie whoopsie.”
“It’s okay, you’re drugged. We started making the brownies. They’re in the oven.”
“Aw, and you guys paused the movie for me? How sweet,” I gushed, looking around lovingly. “Can we talk about me becoming a vampire now?”
“For starters, we’ll have to go to a secluded part of town,” Dennis said.
“For sure,” Sean agreed. “I’m thinking the woods behind Craven Lake might work?”
“Those woods are so creepy.” Ari grimaced but I couldn’t be bothered. This ice cream was too good.
“They’re perfect. No one around to hear you scream.” Dennis’ chilling gaze fell on me. My stomach twisted as he smiled.
“How do you make a vampire?” Ari asked.
“A vampire bites their bind. It has to be on the neck and they have to be bound. If they’re not already bound, the human will die instead of turning,” Mateo said.
“What are the details? Like what exactly is gonna happen to me tomorrow?” I was watching Dennis, waiting for him, personally, to respond.
“I’ll bite your neck and drink most of your blood.
You’ll pass out for a while and wake up a vampire.
But the thirst is so strong at first that you’ll have to kill.
It’s impossible not to. It usually takes two or three humans to fill up and gain control.
After that, killing is a choice. That being said, you,” he switched focus to Ari, “can’t come. ”
“I can’t?” She frowned.
“I mean, you can. If you wanna be murdered.” He chuckled at her expression. “You’ll stay here with one of them.” He nodded toward Mateo and Sean.
“So Emy’s gonna have to kill three people?” she asked.
“Two or three. She’ll basically wake up feral until she gets enough blood in her system, then pass back out for a while, then wake up fully aware and back to normal.”
“And it’s like that for everyone?”
“Yup. I killed my first sixteen, I think?” Mateo paused to count. “Yeah, it was sixteen.”
“Sixteen?” Ari echoed, eyes wide. “Why did you kill sixteen people if you only had to kill a couple?”
“The thrill?” He shrugged. “It’s an adrenaline rush. I grew out of it. I don’t kill very often anymore.”
“Can you guys keep me from running off to do a murder spree?” I asked quietly. Everything was sinking in, even with the painkillers fogging my brain. “I don’t wanna accidentally kill a bunch of people before I come back to my senses.”
“Sure. We’ll figure something out,” Dennis said.
“Thank you. I also don’t wanna kill random people. If I’m killing people, they need to be irredeemable. Like pure evil, people you know for a fact do horrible things. I don’t wanna take an innocent life.”
“We can do that,” Sean said. “Like he said, we’ll figure something out.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, suddenly painfully exhausted. My eyes were lulling shut. I tuned out of the conversation until their voices faded away.