Page 51 of Bite Back

DELILAH

Am I ready? My stomach churns. Asher’s heartbeat pounds in my ears, a steady tattoo, just a bit faster than normal. Mine would be racing even faster if it still pumped blood.

I take a deep breath. I want this over. Need this over.

Arm shaking, I pound my fist on the door.

Banging echoes reverberate through the space beyond.

The few seconds waiting for the door to open stretch on for an eternity.

My gaze traces the patterns of the peeling green paint and the knots in the wood revealed beneath it.

The birds perched on the windowsill twitter and tweet, and the stale scent of the garbage on the curb fills my nostrils.

The door hinges groan. It’s him.

Gray eyes widen. A second passes, and then he starts to shut the door. Lightning fast, I kick my foot out, wedging it between the door and the frame.

He swings the door open again and slams it back onto my foot.

Pain sparks through me, radiating up into my ankle and leg like he set me ablaze.

The fucker darts away from the door, retreating into the apartment as I stumble inside, foot still smarting.

We agreed Asher would stay behind, guard the exits.

The details of my surroundings blur as I barrel through the apartment after him.

It’s all sleek lines and minimal furniture, slick and soulless.

Still though, I spot the tube of lipstick on the counter, the romance novel on the coffee table, the perfume on the sideboard.

Asher’s intel was right. He’s doing it again.

Luka knocks over a chair, and it clatters into my right shin, pitching me forward.

My hand reaches forward, scrabbling for purchase to stop my fall, and grasps around a floor lamp.

Grunting, I haul myself upright and hurl the lamp toward Luka.

He ducks, and the lamp clangs to the floor, bulb shattering with a high-pitched tinkle.

In my new body, I’m fast. But Luka’s older. Faster. Stronger.

Still. I nip at his heels as he weaves his way through the mazelike apartment. Because I have something he doesn’t. A reason.

I’m doing this for me. And for Mary Emma. And for Sutton and all the other women before us. And for her, the new woman, whoever she is.

Electric energy surges through me, hot and fierce. My hand reaches out, grasping, fingers grazing his white button-down. The fabric tears but then slips through my fingers. I curse under my breath. “Shit.”

Finally, what feels like an eternity but must only have been seconds later, he pulls up in front of a back door, hands groping wildly for the knob.

He seizes it, flinging the door open and then rapidly slamming it shut behind him.

Time slows as the space between the door and the frame shrinks.

My foot shoots out in an attempt to jam the door open.

I’ve made it. My toe slips in the slim space. But it’s not enough.

The door clangs shut, and, horrifyingly, a soft click sounds. My stomach sinks. My hands fumble with the handle. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe.

I’m not.

Locked. Fuck. My gaze skims the room, scanning for any sign of a key or some other solution. Nothing. He’s getting away.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

A thud sounds beyond the door, followed by a loud thump. The sound of a body being slammed.

Asher? Or Luka? Heat courses through me. Not Asher, please, not Asher.

Fuck.

Another crash echoes through the door, this one strong enough to rattle the hinges. A grunt, followed by a muffled groan.

Definitely Asher. Which means he might be hurt. Which means Luka might be getting away. I can’t accept either of those possibilities. I try the handle again, forcing it down with all my strength. The external metal breaks off, but the door remains firmly shut when I try to shove it open.

Don’t have time for this. So I do the only thing I can think of: back up a few feet and then slam into the door, throwing my entire body weight against it.

My shoulder screams in protest, and a couple of the stakes belted to my hip splinter and crack, but the door shudders and the hinges wobble.

My body rams into the door again, and, sure enough, the door caves in, splitting off the hinges, and I burst into the alleyway.

The cold air assaults me, and I breathe it in wild gasps, the scent of blood filling my nostrils. My head spins as I search the narrow space in front of me.

There.

Asher pins Luka against the brick wall of the building next door, his forearm braced across Luka’s chest.

It’s striking, both of them there. My past and my present colliding. Or, maybe my past and my future.

Luka looks uncharacteristically rumpled. The ripped sleeve of his button-down hangs limply at his side. And his hair. What was artfully tousled now simply looks disheveled. He bares his teeth, fangs pricking out in the twilight afterglow.

Asher looks as though he’s a statue carved out of stone, face serene and body still, as he presses Luka to the wall, stake poised over his heart and ready.

A pinkish bruise juts along his right cheek bone, and large scrapes, red and angry, run across his arm in three different places.

The tension in his throat, muscles corded and taut, shows the effort it takes to subdue Luka.

Subdue. Not kill. Asher’s holding back. Waiting for me. My heart swells.

I approach the two of them, relishing the paler than normal cast of Luka’s skin.

“I think we have some unfinished business.” The words curl out of me like a snake, cold, inhuman.

“Delilah. Didn’t think you’d make it.” His voice wavers, a crack in his facade.

“Exactly. That’s the problem.” A pretty big fucking problem if you ask me.

“The problem? You got what you wanted. You’re a vampire now. Did you want a card? Congrats, happy birthday, merry whatever.” There’s no trace of the man I fell in love with. Just a sneering asshole. The real him. Who he is underneath the promises and charisma.

This is how he always saw me. I’m just finally getting to see it. And he’s about to meet the new and improved me.

“The problem is you fucking almost killed me. The problem is you told me you loved me. Let me love you. Let me plan a future with you. Let me throw my life away. But all I was to you was a living, breathing blood bag.”

“So what, I changed my mind. A man can do that, right?” His question hangs between us. A high-pitched laugh rises from my throat. He really thinks he can escape this by playing devil’s advocate?

“Of course you could change your mind. But you didn’t. You just lied about how you really felt to get what you wanted.”

A distraction. An amusement. A blood bag. He wanted a moment, not a lifetime.

He smirks. Bingo. He knows what he did, even if he won’t admit it.

“So now what? You’re here, you’re mad, I get it. Hit me up in a few centuries when you’ve cooled off a bit. I bet we could have some real fun then.”

Nausea blooms in my stomach, as the image of what he’s suggesting plays out. Him and me together again. Those pale hands all over my skin, in my hair. Those pouty lips skating over my body. I’m not going to lie, the sex with Luka was good. Never again though.

I didn’t want to become a vampire to be like that. I didn’t want to be less human, less alive. I wanted more. More time with the person I loved. I didn’t want to throw away anything. I wanted to capture it. A real life, not this twisted husk of one he’s sunken into.

I shift forward so I’m shoulder to shoulder with Asher. My hands reach around his throat like a necklace. Mottled red rises beneath my fingers.

Once, this man had me at his mercy. Now, I’m in control.

This is it. My moment of revenge. Retribution. I could get used to it. This feeling of power, of possibility.

He bucks forward. The snap of his teeth sounds in my ears as his jaw closes down a fraction of an inch from my flesh.

I inhale sharply and push him back into the wall.

Asher slides aside.

It’s just Luka and me.

My fingers slide from his throat and fist his shirt, securing him to the wall.

He stomps down on my left foot. A sickening crack fills my ears, and a firework of pain explodes across the arch of my foot. My grip tightens.

My breath comes out in a gasp as nausea rolls over me. But, already, the pain lessens. It’s only temporary. As a vampire, I’m able to heal the hurt he’s done to my body. That’s not the only way he hurt me. Me and who knows how many others.

The sun dips below the horizon and my gaze hooks on the fangs poking out of his mouth. In synchronization, my own canines elongate and transform, marking me as the predator I am.

I’m done. Done feeling weak. Done thinking what happened was my fault. Done with my pain going unanswered.

One hand still clutching his shirt, I reach into his mouth and pinch his left canine, wrenching it out and tossing it into the alleyway.

His face contorts and he reels back, head colliding with the brick wall.

That probably hurt. I don’t know or care.

He didn’t care when he sunk that same tooth into my body over and over.

He didn’t care when I screamed for him to stop.

He didn’t care one bit. So I won’t either.

While he’s still slumped back, hand clutching his jaw, I reach in and locate the right fang. He struggles against me this time, teeth digging down into my hand and head rearing back.

But I’ve got a firm grip and yank the other out, leaving a red cavity in its wake.

Two small, white teeth dot the cobblestones of the alley. It’s beautiful.

He’ll never bite anyone again. As vampires, we can recover from most injuries. Regenerate limbs even. But we can’t regrow our fangs.

Of course, I’m just getting started. I’ve already played judge and jury. All that’s left is to be executioner.

Unsheathing the remaining stake at my waist, I hold it up, like a cobra poised to strike.

That’s when he headbutts me. The stake clatters out of my hand. For a moment, black consumes my vision. When it returns, everything’s blurry and ringing fills my ears. Already, he’s twisted out of my grip and dashed away. I stagger after him, limping on my injured foot.

I motion at Asher. I need Asher to follow after Luka, to chase him down, to do something, anything. Because right now, I’m gasping for air.

A monster claws up my spine and my throat. I’m losing him. Losing my chance. Losing everything we’ve worked for. Again.

Luka plunges into the entrance of a park. The limbs of half-bare trees loom overhead.

Asher dashes after Luka, arms pumping wildly.

Now that it’s come to this, I no longer care who ends this. I just need it to be over. Asher or me, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m safe, that everyone’s safe from him.

We’re never going to get this chance again.

Asher’s trailing Luka. The gap between them grows wider and wider. And I’m even farther behind.

My lurching steps become stronger, steadier, as my bones knit themselves back together.

Maybe, just maybe I can do this. My footsteps pound the pavement, leaves crunching beneath me, and my breath comes in ragged gasps.

The distance between us shrinks. Even with Asher now, I push myself, harder, faster.

Luka’s head cranes back to look at us, at me, the tendons in his neck straining, eyes bright. He’s scared. Of me.

Good.

He should be.

Only a few feet separate us now. My muscles tighten and clench, ready, eager.

One foot.

My arm reaches out, shoving him forward. His arms windmill, and he careens forward, hitting the ground with a thud.

I pounce, straddling his chest with one leg on either side, holding him down with my weight.

It hits me then. I lost my stake. I don’t have any weapons. So maybe this ends how it began, with teeth and blood.