Chapter 16 Bad Bites & Complications
The cash falls from my mouth as I try so hard to make my lungs work, to get my legs moving, but I feel so weak.
The wound on my neck is dripping blood down along my chest, and my wrist pulses with pain.
At this point, I shouldn’t even be upright.
I should be passed out cold, but I think the shock and the adrenaline that followed are what’s keeping me conscious.
Before it’s all gone, I have to use it to get to my phone.
If I can just call him, maybe… maybe he can find me.
One step at a time, I push myself to stand and walk out of the room onto the main floor again.
It’s still crowded, still bumping with energy from the music and the drinks being poured at the bar.
Only now, the violation I feel at being humiliated and assaulted is more potent.
Every person I push past, every other face I see, makes me wonder who is really human.
“Hey girl, where’re you going?” a male voice says against my ear, and I whip around, panicked. He isn’t Dante, or any of the others from the VIP room, just some random guy with a lop-sided grin on his flushed face.
“I need help.” My voice sounds hoarse. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding?”
The guy doesn’t respond. In fact, the look in his eyes reminds me of Kendra’s in the dressing room from earlier.
There, but not present. Clearly, he’s drunk, but the faraway look on his face tells me that Dante wasn’t just bluffing—he did this to everyone.
I back away from the patron and flash my eyes to every open spot in the club, terror gripping my chest.
Am I really this paranoid?
Someone grabs my hips and I jolt forward, their laughter ringing out behind me.
Too close, too similar to Dante’s cruel voice just before he bit me.
I choke back a sob, intent on finding my way to the dressing room, when something stops me dead in my tracks.
A few feet away, half-shadowed by the darkness, half-lit by the strobing neon lights, is the man who attacked me on Halloween night.
My gut twists, threatening to wretch up whatever I ate before I left this evening.
No, no, I think, driving myself into a panic, no, no! That’s impossible. It can’t be him. It can’t be!
As if reading my thoughts, his lips twist up into a smile so ugly, so full of contempt, that I feel like I’m standing in the church tower again, waiting for him to attack.
It isn’t just his face, or the way he’s looking at me like I’m his next meal, no.
It’s the sharpened points of his fangs that make this a reality.
He isn’t just a vision, I’m sure of it. He’s here, and he’s… undead.
The strobes flicker away from him and then back, but by the time they do, he’s gone.
Vanished into the crowd, and likely on his way to me.
Instinct takes over, moving my feet at a pace much faster than before.
I push past people, ignoring their cries of protest and the swears they hurl at me.
But not a single one of them stops to ask if I’m okay, even though I know I look like a crazy person.
Even if what Dante said was true, that no one would be able to see that I’m bleeding, I doubted they would even care or notice, regardless.
They’re drunk, they’re horny, and they couldn’t give a single fuck about someone like me.
Just keep moving. It’s like Halloween all over again, and I hate how thinking that instantly brings tears to my eyes.
I’m so close to the opening at the edge of the crowd when someone walks into my path. I don’t even look before I start swinging. “Get the fuck off of me!”
“Millie!” Two hands wrap around mine, one of them closing over my wrist, and I yelp at the pressure. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
A couple people look back at me, confused, but I turn away from them.
Instead, I’m surprised to find that the person I ran into isn’t my undead stalker, but Gray.
Relief catches in my chest as I relax, throwing myself into him.
He catches me with ease, drawing me away from the floor and into the cover of the shadows beside the main stage. I can’t see him, but I can feel him.
“You’re here,” I croak through tears. I can’t seem to hold them back anymore. “How are you here?”
“I went for a walk,” he says coolly, his hands gliding over my skin. They find the puncture wounds at my throat and pause. His crimson gaze hardens. “You’ve been bitten.”
“Is it bad?” My body is shaking through the tears.
“I need to get you out of here,” he says, shocking me as he scoops me up into his arms.
“My stuff,” I manage weakly.
“Where?” he demands. There’s an edge to his voice now, like a knife poised and ready to slice.
“Dressing room. Down the hall.” We’re moving before I even finish my sentence.
We get to the back, which is empty of anyone, and he sets me down for only a moment to retrieve my things.
He doesn’t ask where they are, or what they look like, he just zips in and zips out.
I plan to ask him how he knew that when my mind doesn’t feel so damn foggy.
Coat on and phone tucked in my pocket, Gray sweeps me back up again and carries me out into the cold through the back door.
I hear him whisper ‘hold on tight’ before I feel the icy sting of November air hitting me in the face.
I turn into his chest and close my eyes, beating back the tears before anymore can start falling.
Now isn’t the time to lose my shit. I have to keep myself conscious, and focus on the real issues.
Dante, who almost killed me tonight, and the guy that almost killed me a couple of nights ago. Both vampires, though one of them shouldn’t even be walking. I caught glimpses of what Gray did to him in the church tower, and by all accounts, no one should have survived that.
Did Gray… turn him?
Eventually, the movement stops with a halting force, and the wind recedes, replaced by the familiar warmth of home. Gray eases me from his chest and places me on the couch. I realize then that I’m shivering and my teeth are chattering.
“Wait here,” he says, his voice soothing and gentle. “I’ll be right back.”
My eyes follow his form as he disappears around the corner. It’s silent in the house, except for the chatter of my teeth. Within seconds, though, I hear the sound of water running.
A bath? I wonder. He’s really running the bathwater for me?
It’s enough to make me cry all over again.
“Millie, are you alright?” Gray returns holding a blanket. In a blur of speed, he kneels in front of me and wipes away my tears. Not once in any relationship have I ever had someone run me a bath. Or bring me a blanket when I’m on the verge of freezing.
“I’m fine,” I breathe, steadying myself. “I’m fine, just shaken up.”
He assesses me for a moment, and then, reaching for my coat, he asks, “May I?”
“Yes.”
Gray peels the coat away from my shoulders, then down over my arms until it’s completely off.
My upper half is bare, but he doesn't seem to notice, or he doesn’t comment to spare me embarrassment.
Coat off, he wraps the blanket around my shoulders and pulls it to my chin, careful not to bump the bite on my neck.
“Let me see your wrist.” He holds out one pale hand expectantly.
From under the blanket, I slide the injured arm carefully into his waiting palm.
He hovers over the torn flesh and examines it with a long, cold look.
After what feels like an eternity, he brings his other hand to his mouth and bites down.
The sound of skin breaking from his own bite sends shivers down my spine.
I watch with horror and confusion as he brings the bleeding wrist to my lips.
“Drink.”
“Won’t I—” But he cuts me off with a warning look.
“I’ll take care of it,” he says sharply.
That makes my stomach do a flip. Drinking his blood the first time made my body hot with desire and need.
It was painful too. One minute pleasant, the next I felt like someone was burning me at the stake.
But Gray’s blood is sweet, the aroma of it drawing me in the way the smell of Gran’s homemade caramel used to.
I take his wrist gratefully, sucking at the wound with a new hunger.
I remember the taste of him now, how thick and syrup-like his blood really is.
It isn’t Gran’s caramel, but it goes down just as easily.
“That’s enough,” Gray says, his voice hard. I draw myself away from his wrist and lick up the last of him from my lips.
I mutter a small, “Thank you.”
Gray nods, then takes me from the couch to the bathroom. Three times in one night? A girl could get used to being carted around like a princess.
In the bathroom, Gray leaves me on the edge of the tub and leans over to turn off the water.
He’s so focused on his task that I can’t help but sit there in complete awe and admiration.
He’s careful with me, so much so that I barely feel his hands on my ankles as he unfastens my shoes.
Long, pale fingers adeptly unbuckle each strap.
A blush warms my cheeks as I watch him work. It makes my heart pound.
“I’ll turn around so you can undress.” He takes off the last shoe and sets it aside. Before he can turn, though, I stop him.
“You can look,” I say. “I don't mind.”
His eyes brighten just a fraction, and while Dante’s terrified me, Gray’s don’t.
He sits back on his heels and, with a deft nod, gives me the go-ahead to proceed.
I stand on cold, shaking legs and let the blanket drop to the floor.
All that’s left are my fishnets and booty shorts, which come away with ease.
Gray is attentive to each one of my movements, but not in an inherently sexual way.
It’s almost like he's waiting to see if I’ll collapse.
Thankfully, I don’t.
“This is nice.” I sigh, settling into the water. It’s the perfect temperature. Already I can feel it chasing away the cold from my bones. Along with the magic of Gray’s blood, I am completely at ease.
“Comfortable, sweet cheeks?” he asks after a long pause.
“Very.” I smile at the nickname. It’s sticking.
“Good.” Gray leans forward onto the edge of the tub, arms tucked under him. “Now, tell me what happened.”
“I was called in for a dance. Nothing unusual about that.” Looking back at it now, Kendra’s behavior was definitely caused by Dante or one of his buddies.
“When I went in, there was a group of them. Three guys, two girls. They were all pretty handsy with each other, but I ignored it. Again, not unusual.”
Gray doesn’t move. He watches, listening intently as I speak.
“I went about my business as usual, and then shit kind of hit the fan.” In my mind I can still see the dead woman, slumped over the couch, while the vampire that killed her heckled me.
“Will you tell me?” Gray coaxes softly.
“It all happened so fast. One minute, I’m swinging around the pole, the next I’m being threatened.
Bitten.” I sink further into the water and lift my arm above its surface.
The wound is practically a scar at this point, with nothing left to indicate that I’d ever been bitten.
I marvel at it, impressed by the speed at which his blood heals.
Only a matter of time before it hits me, I’m sure. With his blood comes the floating feeling, which I’m already starting to experience. Next, I'll plummet into the fire and unravel under the pain.
Gray clears his throat, bringing me back to the moment. “Millie. Who bit you?”
My focus moves from my hand to his face. He looks angry, but more than that, he looks worried. I’m sure anyone would be concerned about a bunch of rampant vampires harassing people, but this feels personal. Is he worried about me?
“He said his name was Dante.” Even saying his name makes me cringe. A too beautiful man with a cruel agenda. I’ve known men like him, only their bark was worse than their bite. And Dante is all bite.
“What did you say?” Gray freezes—stone-still like a marble statue.
“Dante,” I repeat. “He was a real asshole, too.”
“No,” he says simply, almost ignoring me outright. “Impossible.”
“Believe it.”
“I have to go,” he snarls, jumping up from his knees to his feet. Startled by his immediate change in attitude, I jumped, too, grabbing his arm. For a moment, we stare at each other, surprised.
“Let go.” He looks down at where I'm holding him and blinks. “I have to find him.”
“Don’t,” I say fiercely. Not only is that a terrible idea, but if he leaves me alone now, I’m afraid of what will happen.
There’s no saying that my stalker—or Dante—didn’t follow us home.
This could be some kind of trap, and I’m the bait to lure him away.
Who’s to say they aren’t waiting for him to leave?
“I said let go,” he repeats.
I give him a hard tug and tighten my grip. “And I said don’t.”
“He bit you.” His voice is deeper now, and his face, which is still strikingly handsome, appears harsher.
He looks less like a person and more like, well, a vampire.
Sunken eyes, hollowed cheeks, and a beauty so otherworldly that it both scares and excites me.
There’s something else, too. The white sclera of his eyes is pitch black.
Like two blood moons in a night sky, his eyes have also shifted.
“Yes,” I breathe, “but that’s not even the worst part.”
Gray’s red eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“My stalker was there.” I sway on my feet. My head feels a little less clear as I go on. “I don’t know how, but I swear to you, he was there, too.”