Chapter 23
Lylah still hadn't returned, and as Petra had suggested, she was probably lost in the chaos of the dance floor, trying to forget the encounter we'd just had. I knew Lylah was resilient—at least I hoped she was.
Then I spotted Wade making her way up the stairs, her face a mask of raw anger. She glanced to her side, where my sister now held her blood wine, and the sight seemed to infuriate her even more.
Where was Snow Bunny? A sharp pang of concern pierced my thoughts—maybe she was off performing. Her unyielding stubbornness meant she would do whatever she pleased. Jealousy bubbled up inside me.
Wade plopped down next to me, and I could see the hope in Petra's eyes fade as she realized her attempt to win Wade over was futile. She had spent the entire conversation trying to convince me to make Wade like her, but we already had our plans.
"Snow Bunny got attacked," Wade said quietly.
"What?" I growled, instinctively rising from my seat, but she forcefully pushed me back down into the booth. I nearly swatted her hand away in defiance, but her next grip stopped me in my tracks. "Speak," I demanded.
"I handled it," she replied, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a blackened, once-white towel, now soaked and stained.
"Oh my God, is that our kind's blood on a damn towel?" Petra blurted out, nearly spilling her wine.
"It's really not your concern," Wade growled.
"But it is!"
"You would know, since you're the same kind, right?"
"Whose blood, is it?"
As Wade folded the towel, a cold glint appeared in her eyes. "Souls," she muttered, leaning closer so her lips brushed against my ear.
"It takes everything in me not to go after Ethan and have my hands playing catch with his fucking head, his body hanging from our ceiling like a damn chandelier."
"What did he do?"
"I don't know, but he did something to her. She wouldn't say."
"Where is she?" I asked, feeling my dead heart stir.
"I made sure she got home safe in a taxi," she replied. "But I want you to talk to Ethan because you obviously don't want me to."
I sighed. I didn't want my hands stained with blood, nor did I want anyone to toy with our little human.
"Are they..." I trailed off, not wanting to have this conversation in front of Petra. She looked like she was about to freak out.
"All three," Wade confirmed.
"Three? Did they all—?"
"No. I got there in time."
I nodded, a mix of relief and frustration flooding through me. "I'll talk to Ethan," I gritted out, feeling defeated that I hadn't been there to deal with one of those boys myself. "I wish we could take care of her."
"Who?" Petra asked.
"Someone," I replied smugly, hesitant to provide details. Xanthe wasn't ours—sad but true. The truth was often a bitter pill to swallow, and I couldn't recall a time when knowing the truth had ever brought me happiness.
"We just have to be patient."
"Well, we have all eternity, but does she?"
Neither of us wanted to answer that.
Every time I turned my neck, pain shot through me. The fang marks were less than a centimeter wide and a couple of inches deep, etched into the vein of my neck. I was just relieved to see the morning light. The night had left me feeling guilty and plagued with overthinking.
Who were those girls to Wade and Jager?
Why hadn't I thanked Wade for saving me? I should have. The thought of being drained completely was one of my worst fears. Just imagining it made my heart race, picturing my blood leaving me drop by drop while I leaned against a piss-stained wall, waiting for my death.
That was what had happened last night—or at least what was about to happen. What Wade did to those guys was both gory and exhilarating. I should have thanked her on my knees, my hair gripped by those same bloodstained hands, her cock pushing down my throat.
When she offered to take care of me, I nearly dropped the wall I had built against vampires and let them do whatever they wanted.
I should have gone home with her. Maybe then I wouldn't be stuck eating a day-old, expired carton of milk and off-brand cereal. The cheap food was what humans could afford, and it tasted as awful as the heinous crime scene I had witnessed behind the club.
The off-brand products came in an eerie shade of white—the kind that warned you the food was revolting and probably wouldn't make it past your throat.
It was akin to food stamps, except it had nothing to do with actual assistance.
We still had to spend our hard-earned money on it, but it was significantly cheaper.
There were better options out there, but for those of us still working with the vampires, it meant earning the same salary as them.
"Is your neck doing, okay?" Kemesha asked, wincing slightly as her gaze fell on the two gaping holes.
They looked bad, and they felt even worse.
My life was spiraling, and it was all thanks to those women.
Despite my mind overheating like my old laptop, most of my problems seemed to have started when they took over that club.
"It's fine. I just need to tell Ethan I can't work today," I replied.
Kemesha had cleaned me up pretty well. "But maybe I shouldn't tell him anything, since he's the one who made them jump me.
" I glared at the bowl of disaster I was trying to slurp down.
My stomach churned; I craved real food. I longed for some good roasted duck with the perfect sauce and a well-aged wine.
But a meal like that would cost me—an expense I wasn't willing to face right now.
"Oh, really? What happened? Who jumped you?" she asked, pouring high-preservative orange juice into her teacup. Then she hopped up on the counter, her thick legs swinging back and forth.
"Some guys from the VIP section. The real bosses of the club kicked them out, and I guess they came back for revenge. I don't know," I whispered, touching the painful memory of last night.
"Who saved you?"
I flushed, the scene of the attack feeling both real and like something out of a dark fantasy novel. I could see myself feeling a little safer around Wade and Jager, but I hated that sensation.
I had spent my entire life trying to ignore vampires, despite their rapid rise.
"Wade?" she asked, pouring more orange juice into her cup. It tasted more like orange syrup than actual juice, making my stomach churn. "As in Wade, the Icelandic princess of the West, becomes your knight in shining armor?"
"Ew, Kemesha, it wasn't like that. I was angry, crying, and sad—experiencing all sorts of unnecessary emotions," I grunted.
"And you wished for something else? Like having her sweep, you off your feet and into bed?" Her face contorted with playful mischief.
I forced out a chuckle.
"You wanted to feel her, huh?"
"She offered to take care of me for the night, and it would have been really nice if it had been true."
"Why can't it be true?"
"Because they're leeches—all they do is suck and take.
" I grumbled, feeling physically and mentally ill just looking at the bowl of vomit and thinking about last night.
I'd spent all night imagining what would have happened if I had taken the offer, picturing their tongues wiping me down and then stripping away my clothes, letting them have their way with me.
My face scrunched up. "All of this—it's their fault. I know they just bought out Cloney. The best boss ever."
"I know you didn't just say that." She set her mug down. "You used to come to me complaining about how Cloney took so much after you'd sucked his cock."
I looked down, realizing I'd forgotten. "But he was better than them."
"You brought in double what you would have under Cloney as your boss. Things won't be perfect, but they will improve. Are you thinking about dating Wade?"
"No." Tears welled in my eyes.
"She saved you."
"I know, and I didn't even say thanks. I just jumped at her as if she were the one who did this to me. Well, she kind of is."
"Stop blaming the princess."
"She doesn't look like a princess. She looks like a soul snatcher." She was a soul snatcher, taking those boys soul with ease.