Crimson Groves (6 page)

There were footsteps, distant, across the room. I swung my head around to see where Bronx was going. He stood in a doorway of what looked like a hallway. “I will return in a minute.”

He was gone but then he was back—like pressing a fast-forward button through the commercials. He held a middle-aged woman in his arms. She was fifty something, short, a little overweight, but the oversized blue tunic she wore with a super-tight pair of white leggings made her look even bigger. Shoulder-length black hair streaked with gray drooped over her round, pudgy face. Inexpressive eyes peeked out at me from between thick wisps of hair. Her arms were stretched behind her, most likely restrained somehow. If they were pulled any tighter, she’d probably pop like a balloon with too much air.

“What are you doing? Who is that?” I meant it to sound more demanding, but it came out soft and flat. More questions circulated in my mind like a hamster running on its little wheel, but I couldn’t get my voice to ask them. I was beyond exhausted, too overwhelmed, and growing more impatient with Bronx and his twisted games.

Bronx answered, “This human will provide you with the blood you need. Time is of the essence. Come now and drink from her.

4

Learning

I STARED AT THE WOMAN who should’ve looked more frightened than she did. Perhaps Bronx was persuading her, but if that was the case, then why were her hands tied? There were bite marks already on her neck. Just great! Apparently she’d already been snacked on. The thought of that revolted me, and bile shot up my throat like baking soda in vinegar. I swallowed hard, getting most of it back down. A lingering tang lay on the back of my tongue, gliding down into my throat. I shook my head, teeth clenched, eyes glaring. “I am not touching that woman! I’m not doing anything to her!”

“Yes you will, and I prefer not to use my persuasion to make you do it.” He sounded calm, gentle, serious.

“I’m not going to kill her or anyone else, not now, not ever!”

“You do not have to kill her to feed on her blood. Some humans, known as blood donors, know of our existence and willingly allow us to drink from them. Our bite gives them a feeling of pleasure that begins during the bite and lasts for hours after. This woman has been a regular blood donor for a few of the other vampires around here. She would be honored for you to bite her.”

“You’re lying,” I retorted, wanting badly to yell, but only soft wispy sounds came out. “Why are her hands tied? I know you must be persuading her to be relaxed, you can cut the crap now!”

“I am not persuading her, and that is the reason her hands are bound. Persuasion should not be used the first time you feed from a human. You need to do it on your own. Her arms are tied to make it easier on you. Even willing blood donors are afraid, yet intrigued, of the bite from a new vampire. It is intensely painful at first, and most try to fight you during that time. You are too weak to keep your hold on her should that happen.” His voice was still eerily calm.

I stared at the woman, tilting my head. “Is he telling the truth? You want me to bite you?”

She looked at me, face blank, eyes empty.

“Are you going to answer me?” I asked, voice a little louder. Yeah, for me.

“Enough of this!” Bronx said. He wasn’t calm anymore. He tossed the woman on the floor, a few feet in front of me. Her body jiggled as if it were made of Jell-O. I didn’t move. There was no freaking way I was going to drink her blood!

“Every blood donor craves the bite of a new vampire. It is more potent than any other. She wants you to bite her and feed from her. She wants to feel the pleasure only you can give her.” Bronx was closer to me. I hadn’t seen him move. He was just there. I wish he’d stop doing that!

People let vampires bite them so they can get high? This guy must be high if he thought I’d buy that crap. But the way he’d just described how a vampire bite felt, well that sure was similar to what I’d gone through when he bit me. No, that couldn’t be it! Could it? No way! Maybe?

I didn’t believe him, definitely didn’t trust him, and yet the only thing I had to go on was what he was telling me. So were some tidbits of truth sprinkled inside Bronx’s words? I glanced down at the woman’s neck, imagining the blood within it. I slowly shook my head in disgust. Yep, that seems real human, doesn’t it?

And to top everything off, I wasn’t feeling any better. Actually it was getting worse. My body was worn out, like I’d just run a marathon. My stomach churned, demanding food, but I wasn’t hungry for food. Fear crept up my neck like a small, uninvited insect. I was afraid of everything Bronx told me, more afraid of how I felt. I was a stranger in my own body. But not to what I wanted. I licked my lips, slowly. A desire for blood pushed to the corner of my mind—instinctive, familiar. My mouth watered. I pressed my lips together, then closed my eyes, and squeezed them shut. If drinking blood was my only way to survive, then let me die again right now. And this time there wouldn’t be any coming back.

This had to be the worst nightmare I’d ever dreamed, but I knew it wasn’t a dream at all. This was real—
all
of it. I opened my eyes, looked at Bronx. He was smiling, watching me with anticipation. I shook my head violently, screaming “no, no, no” in my mind. I closed my eyes and started praying.

There was movement in the room. I strained to hear it, didn’t want to open my eyes, afraid of what I would see. But that delicious aroma was already waltzing inside my nose, tickling my taste buds. On my skin, goose bumps scattered everywhere. My stomach tensed. That scent was all that mattered now, mouthwatering, irresistible. I had to have it now.

My eyes shot open wide, instantly seeing what my new body craved. He bit her. He just freaking bit her. A disturbing thirst grew inside me as I watched tiny droplets of blood trickle down the middle-aged woman’s neck. There wasn’t blood on her before. The old puncture marks on her neck had been clean. I stared at the crimson rivulets, mouthwatering, my fangs struggling to stay confined inside. My tongue stroked across my new canines—sharp and hungry. My refusal to bite her and drink her blood had been much easier before I saw it, smelled it, felt it sticking to my taste buds like honey. Sweet, scrumptious honey made of blood.

I moved closer to her without thinking, like I was hypnotized by the scent of her fresh blood. It called to me, inviting me to it. I had never tasted blood before, but the instincts that came with my new body naturally brought with them the need for the desired blood feast.

I didn’t bother asking to get the name of the middle-aged woman as I knelt down beside her. My black work shoes squeaked on the wooden floor. Bronx was close by, making some kind of growling noise, deep and guttural. I didn’t care. Everything around me went black, silent. I wanted blood, her blood.
Blood, blood, blood.

The woman turned her head to look up at me. Regardless of any discomfort she may have felt, her facial expression was empty, emotionless. He’d assured me numerous times that this was the only way. He couldn’t risk her struggling with me at my weakened state. That’s why her hands were bound. He must be telling the truth, right?

I carefully placed my frigid hands on her warm, plump cheeks. Her body trembled. My hunger intensified. My lips parted, my fangs plunged out. The woman looked shocked, small eyes widening. I could sense that she wanted me to bite her. I was absolutely certain that’s what she wanted. The pulsating vein in her neck provoked me. I leaned down closer and closer, and my fangs brushed across her soft skin just before plunging into it. The woman jerked and tried to pull away, but I was able to hold her head steady. Her blood was rich, velvety, tangy, and sweet, an explosion of goodness inside my mouth. I sucked harder, pulled her closer to me, savoring every last drop.

She stopped flinching and resisting. Whatever pain my bite had caused was over. She hummed and sighed, seeming breathless and high, paralyzed by the very bite she had just tried to escape. Slowly my raging hunger was satisfied, and I looked up at him in shame. The look returned, however, was one of pride and contentment, just as I’d assumed it would be.

Nothing would ever be the same for me again.

Then the woman got really quiet. Her body went limp. Panic seized me. Did I drink too much? Did I kill her? Please God don’t let her be dead. I quickly lifted my mouth away from her neck and searched her face for signs of life. She was breathing. The flow of air whistled as it passed through her nostrils. I checked her pulse. It was beating strong, alive—very alive, thank God. The woman smiled, her eyes rolling around in their sockets like a bobblehead doll. She let out a heavy sigh. I took that as an invitation to drink just a little more from her.

I felt supercharged as I stood up from my first meal as a vampire and gently laid the woman back onto the floor. She was completely out of it. Drunken smile plastered across her face. Questions began racing through my mind. I needed answers and Bronx owed them to me. I looked around, searching the room. Bronx was sitting on the sofa, face smug with a crooked grin, shoulders stiff and straight, hands folded neatly in his lap. I took a few steps in his direction, still keeping a good distance between us.

“Are blood donors ever killed?” I asked, then licked my lips. “You know, accidentally?”

“I suppose there have been accidents, but most vampires do not kill their donors as we have spent decades learning to coexist. However, there are some that prefer not to feed this way and still hunt for their prey. They do not have an appetite for blood donors, though. Their blood is not as fresh as that of an innocent human.”

“What makes them innocent?” I sucked at my bottom lip, trying to get the rest of the blood off.

“They have not been bitten yet.”

“You mentioned hunting with, um, your lady friend, ex-girlfriend, whatever. Were you hunting innocents?”

“Yes,” he snickered, “they are delectable.”

“
So, then I am not the first person you murdered?” My lips curled into a snarl. Deep growls rolled off my tongue. Wait a second! I was
snarling
at him? What the hell? I was behaving like some kind of rabid animal now. I reached up, touched my lips, and then rubbed across my teeth. My top two canines were sharper, wider, extending down a little farther than before. The bottom ones felt bigger too. Their razor-sharp edges sliced into my fingertips. I gasped, pulled my hand away. My investigating fingers were bleeding.

In a flash, Bronx was here, arm wrapped around me, maybe wanting to comfort me. It wasn’t working—it was making me feel worse. But I didn’t fight him off. I don’t know why. “Those are your new fangs,” he said. I looked up at his face. He smiled, a broad glistening expanse of teeth and fangs. I reached up and touched his lips, then inched my fingers inside, moving them slowly, gently over his fangs. They felt just like mine. My hand dropped down to my side. I needed a few minutes to let this new information sink in. My brain was trying to register it like a computer fighting off a nasty virus.

Bronx tightened his grip around me. I felt sick. In a flash, I ducked out of his hold and stepped back. I was starting to get used to this new speed. I looked down at my fingers. They weren’t bleeding anymore. The wound was healed; a remnant of dried blood was all that was left. My body could heal itself? “Can our bodies heal quicker than normal?”

He nodded slowly, eyes burning like deep, dark blue fires. “As long as you keep up a good supply of blood, you will be invincible.”

Invincible? Really? Well, that could be useful.

Bronx stepped forward, voice deep as he said, “There was a time long ago when killing people was the only way for us to survive. It was not until about thirty years ago that the idea of people donating their blood grew more popular among our kind. Meredith”—his voice grew deeper upon saying that name—“refused to eat that way. She preferred killing for food just as we always had. The night I told you of, when the Enforcers attacked me, Meredith and I were hunting for our next victim. She loved finding a human and watching the fear in its eyes as she sucked it dry. They would struggle and fight to free themselves only to succumb to the pleasure of our venom. Meredith got such a rush from it, and I enjoyed watching the amusement it gave her. When the Enforcer brought me here, I realized I no longer enjoyed killing my victims and I began solely using blood donors.” He ran his fingers through his smooth black hair, tucking it neatly behind his ears.

After that he inched a small step closer and carried on with his story. “There are a few clubs in the area owned by blood donors, vampires, or both working as a partnership. These clubs have back rooms where you can access the donors. They also make house calls, as you have just witnessed with our friend here.” He pointed to the middle-aged woman lying on the floor. She was in a fetal position with her knees tucked into her chest. A faint sigh escaped her lips.

My shoulders were tight, and I shrugged to loosen them. It didn’t work. I needed space, a few minutes to myself. But instead of getting that, Bronx flashed to me and put his arm around my shoulder. “I know this is a lot to take in,” he said, “but you—”

I twisted around, grabbed him just below the shoulders, and pushed back as hard as I could. He sidestepped twice but caught himself before completely falling over. “You’re disgusting! You’re a murderer! You killed people for no reason at all except the fun of it! Let me guess, it was all Meredith’s fault you did it, right? You’re just the victim here!” My eyes were narrow, fangs extended, fists balled at my sides.