The Better to Eat You With: The Red Journals (5 page)

My throat
locked up as fear and need fought in my bloodstream, and my labored breathing
sounded strangled and quick in my ears. I looked around frantically for a way
to get out, to get away, but everything was awash with gold, blurring around
the edges.

"W-w-wa—"

He lifted
his head to meet my eyes.

"Wait—"

His gaze
widened as he stared at me.

"Let’s…Let's
make a deal? Yeah? Let me down and we'll talk."

"What
are you?" he murmured then.

"Talk
and not—" I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Not bite anyone."
Cool fingertips brushed my temple, my cheek, gold light crackled in his irises.

"Ahh,
pet?" His eyes flared with gold, brighter than before, looking so mournful
then, and my heart plummeted to my stomach.

I bit
back the deprived, frightened whimper rising in my throat and closed my eyes
briefly, fighting for control of my own goddamned body.

"I'm
so sorry," he whispered.

I opened
my eyes to ask him what for just in time to see him draw back his fist. Another
explosion of pain, and it was lights out.

My old,
antique wooden trunk was sitting in the middle of an empty room. Lights beamed
down, soft and cold, from somewhere above that I couldn't see. They highlighted
the details of my oldest memories with a caress much akin to a knife-edge.

The
trunk was made of two shades of cherry wood. One dark. One light. The dark was
smooth and glossy. The light was engraved with winding flowers and leaves. The
latches and hinges were brass and iron. The iron was dark and smooth, worn from
touch of decades, from generations of my family. The brass was worn, the
filigree barely even visible anymore.

I
reached out my hand towards it, knowing that the wood would be like a living,
breathing thing under my fingertips, and the latches would be cold, like frost
on glass. As my fingers brushed the ornate carvings on the lid, they felt
weightless, like air, and I half-expected my hands to just float right through
the wood. But they didn't.

My
fingertips brushed the grain, traced a leaf.

I jerked
awake, eyes flying open and not seeing anything for a moment but the wood
carvings on the lid of my own antique trunk. Not feeling anything other than
the heavy weight in my chest from the memories it brought, and the lightness in
my limbs. And then I felt the pain in my face.

I hissed
in a sharp breath, not even bothering to try to keep my eyes open past the
throbbing, itchy, sharp pain, just lifting a hand to my face, momentarily confused
about why the hell my cheek and jaw hurt.
Did some quarry get too physical
last night? Did I walk into a wall? Fall out of bed and land on my face?

"Here."
Deep, soft, sultry.

Before I
could even flinch at the sound of the voice, something warm, sweet and
delicious splashed my lips. The taste was rich, thick and intoxicating, and my
whole body shivered when I licked my lips. Opening my mouth for more, my canines
lengthened and pulsed with instinctive need. Heat slid down my throat,
blossoming into white-hot lightning in my veins, bringing to life tingling
cells in my blood and sparkling lights in my skin. Heat licked down my body,
settling in the most sensitive of places. A moan locked in my throat.

That's
when I realized what I was drinking.

"Hey!"
I shoved the arm away, stomach already urging as a
thunk
hit the floor,
moral compass regurgitating what my mind knew and my body wanted. Blinking open
my eyes and pushing my focus as I shoved back and away, dragging an arm across
my mouth.

Don't get
me wrong, blood is like...ambrosia, elixir, moonshine and your best orgasm time’s
a hundred, all rolled into one. It's delicious, addictive and intoxicating,
with scents, flavors and consistencies that differ in the most luscious of
ways. I crave the taste of it and its effects as sure as an addict craves his
next fix, but it's still blood. It's still the life-source of another living
creature, and that, to me, makes my stomach heave.

"Ew!
God, gross!" I turned to the side and spat out the delicious, spicy liquid,
dry retching dramatically over the side of a...bed.
A bed?

A heavy
sigh sounded, and I turned my head, breathing slow and deep to hide my terror,
even as my face tingled, letting me know it was healing and would be perfect
again in mere moments.

Bright
green eyes stared back at me, making me shiver from head to toe.
Vamp guy. Vamp
guy who knocked me out.

"You,"
I snarled, realizing it was him whose blood I’d been drinking and resenting its
potency.

He rolled
from his seat on the edge of the bed, dragging his tongue over his wrist,
lapping up spilled blood on his hand with a look I can only describe
as...scathing. Yet, I felt that tongue lick all the way to my core.

Did my
spitting insult him? Good.

He moved
to the end of the bed, and I finally noticed there were other people there. The
powers surging in the room were a living, breathing pulse. No one else would
have sensed it, but my hyper-sensitive inclinations seem to hone in on
supremacy signatures like the proverbial moth to the flame. Not a bad gift for
a hunter, but I often feel like a deaf person standing next to speakers; aware
of the beat, but unable to partake in the sound.

I
scrambled backward until my back was flush against the headboard. I instantly realized
that the familiar, comforting weights of my cell and weapons were distinctly
absent.
I better get those back.
I gave the four figures staring at me
the stink-eye, even though their gazes were intense enough to make my entire
body tighten in anticipation of a fight. When no one immediately moved, I did a
quick scan of each figure, and then flicked my gaze about the room.

Spacious.
Rich carpet. Thick drapes.  Expensive matching furniture throughout. Fireplace.
Two doors. So I had a fifty-fifty chance of picking the one that got me out of there
over the one that would be the walk-in wardrobe. I returned my gaze to the
vamps around the bed, and they were
all
vamps. I could smell it.

But all
they did was stare at me. So, I stared back.

Other
than vamp guy, who was tall, dark, and well, scowling at me, the man beside him
was lighter, in skin, hair and eye. Pale blonde hair fell to his shoulders in a
thick wave, and light blue eyes blandly gazed at me out of a perfectly blank
face. His high-cheek bones and incredibly sharp, straight nose made him look
haughty, and the slow blink of lashes as washed-out as his hair could almost be
taken condescendingly if I didn't know what he was.

Vampires
blink deliberately if they are so old that they had broken the habit. Much like
they intentionally fidget when among humans, otherwise their innate stillness is
a dead giveaway that they are otherworldly. And yes. Pun intended.

Blondie's
lean, tall frame dwarfed the female beside him, making her look almost frail as
she observed me with an interest so open, that combined with her long, curling
blonde hair and big, guileless blue eyes, she looked almost...childlike. If she
hadn’t been standing so unnaturally still, I would have thought her nothing but
a doll. But, again, that stillness was a blimp-size indicator for vampirism. And
it was kind of creepy.

The
fourth figure was slouched in a chair to the side of the bed, watching me. The
lamp on the opposite side cast him in shadow, and the only reason I knew it was
a 'him' was from the way he sat. His legs were crossed knee to ankle. One arm
extended along the arm of the lounge chair, the other hidden in shadow, but a
glint of something in the light indicated a ring. He also radiated a power that
was like a sledge hammer of heat in the face, and felt as if he had the capacity
to turn me to dust with nothing but a sigh, if he were so inclined.

If I
wasn't mistaken, it seemed like the other three were waiting on him.

"Where
am I?" I demanded of the male in the chair.

Vamp guy
leaned on one of the post at the bottom of the bed, momentarily distracting me
from the one in the lounge chair. God, even after slapping me around, he still
looked good. All cool deliciousness and sassy brow-arching.

I hate
him.

"You,"
the shadowed figure softly said, drawing my attention back, "are in my
home." He slowly unfolded himself from the chair and leaned forward, his
elbows on his knees, his fingertips touching—and yep, there was the ring. Big
and gold, symbols that looked vaguely like glyphs molded into the surface. Shame
his face was still completely shadowed.

"Why
am I here?" I asked, seeing as no further information was coming.

"You
are here, because Felix,” he indicated the dark haired vamp who'd knocked me
out —twice, “thinks you are of interest to me. Is he right?" His accent
was odd, the vowels peculiarly low, and he purred them. It was hypnotic,
distracting...alluring, like the enticement of dark Belgium chocolate. It
promised pleasure so wicked that you would never, ever regret it.

I glanced
at Felix. "Depends what you're into, I guess." I replied, arching a
brow and wondering if it'd be worth testing their Vampire reflexes if I made a
lunge for one of the doors. Silence followed my response, as if no one could
believe I hadn’t answered in the way I had been expected to. If it were possible,
I would say they were all holding their breaths, looking to see what the Vampire
in the shadows would do.

"You
drink blood with the hunger of a Vampire," he said instead, as I grimaced
in distaste, "and yet you have no power level. Are you a new Vampire? Is
that why your heart beats so consistently?" He leaned back in his seat
again, further obscuring him in the shadows, and I knew he was staring at me,
contemplating.

I knew a fledgling
Vampire's heart still beat like a human's for at least a decade after being
made, gradually getting slower and slower, until it eventually stopped, only
beating once or twice when adrenaline became spiked, say when seriously afraid,
pissed or… aroused (cough).This male, I understood, had presence, a way of
holding your attention. I couldn't look away.

"I
think," I said softly, understanding that his consideration of my youth
may work to my advantage. If he thought I was young, maybe they'd underestimate
me. "You're all obsessed with my heartbeat, and that you also underestimate
the flavor." The shadows shifted, as if he had turned his gaze to Felix to
regard him. I switched my gaze also, and was instantly transfixed by jade green
eyes. They swirled and glittered and pulled me in like jewels. The snarky
little smirk came free, obviously.

Clearing
my throat, I pulled my gaze away, just as the female giggled and tried to hide
it behind an unconvincing cough. I scowled at her as she covered her smile with
a delicate, pale hand.

"Porcia,"
the shadowed figure chided softly.

"I'm
sorry, Osiris." She dropped her hand and openly smiled. "But she must
be desperate to avoid your question if she is dropping so low as to compliment
Felix."

I what
now?

"Hey!"
Felix burst.

"Especially,"
blondie added, arching a fine brow, "after she spat him out so
furiously."  

My eyes
widen in horror as Felix rolled his eyes and Porcia laughed again. I think the
shadowed figure, Osiris, was shaking his head.

"Frost,
don't encourage her," Felix chastised with a frown.

"She
doesn't need it," Frost replied.

"No,"
Osiris murmured, "she does not."

"You
are all so serious!" she snapped at them with a smile, sitting on the end
of the bed looking at me. "If you wanted someone serious, you should not
have invited me."

"You
are the most non-threatening female we have." Felix frowned as if this
were obvious.

Porcia
scoffed.

I watched
all this with my mouth hanging open.

"Please?"
she said to me then, her big blue eyes pleading. "Tell us what you are?
I'm too impatient to wait through Osiris's questions, and Felix won't tell
me!"

"Uh?"

Porcia
bounced on the bed. "He's got such a stick up his butt about you that he
won't tell us anything. Said we have to see for ourselves—."

Felix
choked.

"Porcia,"
Osiris moaned again.

"So,
Osiris said he'd ask you, but you have no idea how long you'd be sat there if
he does that—"

"Porcia,"
Felix warned.

"And
Frost and Felix were just gonna stare at you and see if you crack under the
pressure! But I know that won't intimidate you because you probably deal with
crap like that all the time as a bounty hunter!"

Omg!
How’d they know that?

"Porcia,"
Frost intoned, frowning at her.

"I
think if you were in the least bit terrified you would have told us the moment
you woke up, instead of doing that scowly-face and scoping the room like some
trained Navy Seal in enemy territory. No, no. I think you're much too bad ass. So
will you? Tell us? Oh, please say you will? I know you don't want to, but it
really will be to your advantage in the—"

"Wolf!"

They all
blinked in surprise and looked at me.

Jeepers,
I suck at this secret-keeping thing.

She was
right too. I could have weathered the questions and ignored the glaring. But,
good golly, her constant talking was frightening! And she didn't even have to
stop for breath!

"I'm
a hybrid," I squeaked breathlessly, staring at her wide-eyed in utter
desperation. "A Vampire-wolf hybrid."

Porcia's
face split into the most beaming, triumphant smile I'd ever seen. I snapped my
mouth shut, and just stared at her, trying to brace myself for whatever she was
about to say next.

Instead,
she looked over at Felix, a haughty, smug smirk on her face. "There,"
she said, and held out her hand to him. "I told you I could do it."

Felix
out-right laughed and dug into his pocket, handing over what looked like a
hefty roll of cash.