Page 7 of Bite Back

DELILAH

Before I got fucked over, nights out felt like an escape. Now the club taunts me, my own personal hell. Every second I spend here reminds me I’m no longer human.

Music pulses around me. The beat pounds against my ears, and bright beams of strobing light attack my eyes.

And the tang of salt, wafting from the bodies writhing on the dancefloor, slams over me.

I push my way through the crowd, brushing sweaty shoulders and dodging the spikes of high heels.

I squeeze into a corner booth where I can easily scan the room.

It’s an open floor plan, with the dancefloor at the center.

Cocktail tables and plush velvet booths line the edges of the room, and lights snake across the glossy black floor, bathing the room in warm pinks and reds.

On the left, a tuxedoed bartender pours ruby red drinks from a dark marble bar.

Unbelievable sweetness, mixed with the tang of citrus syrup, floods my nostrils.

I inhale deeply. My fangs prick sharply against my lips, even though I consumed my fill at Hector’s earlier. Focus, Delilah.

I force my gaze to the kaleidoscope of tinted bodies on the dance floor.

My eyes snag on familiar features. Pieces that don’t add up to the whole I’m looking for.

Skin so pale, it’s almost iridescent. White blond hair, always artfully styled.

The tall frame, held tense and watchful like a coiled cobra.

Full lips, always quirked in a half smile.

Stormy gray eyes, always sparkling as though he were telling an inside joke.

He had a way of making you feel like that.

Like he was better than everyone else. And, since you were with him, you were too.

Over and over again, I rise from my perch only to sink back down.

Because it’s not Luka. Tightness wraps around my ribs.

I’m here against Sarah and Kirby’s suggestion that I wait for a time we can go together.

Impatience demanded I come, that I do something.

I hadn’t expected this would be easy. I’d hoped it would be though.

Luka used to spend so much time here. This is where we met. He loved Aconite. The rope lines, the bottle service, the exclusivity, it all proved he was special, important, shiny.

The questions I have for him press on the tip of my tongue. Why did he turn me, only to leave me? Were there other women? Was it ever real? Was my life, our life together just some game? Sarah’s right. No answer he can offer me will be good enough. That won’t stop me from asking them.

And the answers won’t stop me from killing him.

Even over the throbbing beat, I catch snatches of the conversations around me.

“Meet me out back.” Smooth like whiskey.

“Twenty dollars for two bags.” That tracks. You’d think vamps would be all about blood, but a surprising number have other drugs of choice. I guess after a while the allure dies down. Or they need something more to break the monotony.

“Are you okay if I steal your friend from you?” Her voice curls in my ears, a soft, sensuous purr.

A laugh answers in return. “Be good, kids.”

I search the crowd, pinpointing the couple, or technically, I guess, the trio in question.

The white woman’s drop dead gorgeous. Her long blonde hair hangs down to her waist, and flawless makeup adorns her pale features.

A skintight black dress hugs her curves.

She looks glossy, like she stepped out of a magazine.

And the white man with her. My breath hitches as I take him in.

There’s a lot to take in. He’s tall, head and shoulders above most of the crowd and a few inches taller than the handsome South Asian man next to him.

He and his companion are dressed more casually than her, in black t-shirts and jeans.

It suits him though. The t-shirt stretches to accommodate broad shoulders, and, as his arm flexes, I catch the muscles rippling beneath.

His friend gently steers the blonde woman through the crowd, their hands interlaced. Her gaze sweeps appreciatively over her companion’s chiseled chest, and her fangs tease her lips.

The man’s brow furrows, dark, heavy eyebrows drawing together. He steps forward and then stills. Like he wants to follow them. Is he interested in the blonde woman? Wishing she’d chosen him instead?

I should look away. But instead I drink in his face like it’s a glass of water. Long strands of hair escape the bun he’s pulled them back in, and a sharp beard lines his jaw. I’m transfixed.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. A couple weeks ago, I was ready to spend a lifetime with Luka. And now, I’m staring at a stranger. A stranger who is possibly the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.

This isn’t love at first sight. But lust at first sight? Definitely.

Is it toxic? To be eyeing someone so soon after everything? Does that mean the love I felt for Luka wasn’t real? Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe love isn’t real at all.

But what happened wasn’t my fault. Not one bit. I know that much.

I don’t know what I’ll do with eternity. I don’t know what comes after this. But I know I want to make Luka pay for what he did.

I’m not the woman I was. I’m something else. Someone sharper, stronger, deadly. My dreams are his nightmares. And he always did tell me he’d make all my dreams come true.

Luka’s taken so much from me. My life. My future. Quite possibly my sanity.

So what if I find this stranger handsome? Why shouldn’t I? I can’t spend every moment plotting revenge, as much as part of me would like to. The reality is Luka’s not here, and this stranger is. The night is young and so are we. Just because love didn’t win, doesn’t mean lust can’t.

I want him. If he’ll have me, that is.

And it’s unclear if he will. His gaze tracks the couple until they vanish into the crowd. Then he heads towards one of the cocktail tables at the edge of the dance floor and leans against it, muttering something under his breath.

I strain my ears. It’s hard to pick up over the thrumming bass of the music, but I catch a heartbeat.

Surprising, given he’s alone now. Aconite’s technically open to all, but it’s primarily a vampire haven.

You get the occasional werewolf looking for a fight and, of course, plenty of human companions.

Or single humans looking for a brush with the dark side.

But it’s rare. Dangerous, even. Places like Aconite are hunting grounds.

Vamps assume any unaccompanied humans here are fair game.

He carries himself with a wide stance, unusually confident for a human smack in the heart of vampire territory.

His pulse thumps slow and steady. He looks up, a flash of something on his face that looks surprisingly like triumph.

Maybe he’s not so disappointed after all? Maybe he was the wingman all along?

A flush of warmth radiates from my core.

He’s the perfect distraction.

He slumps back down at the table. For a few moments he remains still, eyes downcast. The club’s lights wash his face red then pink.

I worry I read it wrong. Maybe he did want her, after all.

But then he shakes his head and adjusts his posture.

He stands straight, eyes sweeping over the room like a beacon.

It’s strange. Even though he’s human, the way he scans the room gives a different impression. Here, humans are prey. But he carries himself like a predator. It takes one to know one.

His eyes flick my way. I contemplate lowering my gaze.

I could play shy. I don’t want that though.

I want this. The weight of his eyes locked into mine.

Two predators assessing each other. His gaze taunts me like a dare.

But I’m game, and, as I hold his gaze, something shifts.

His gaze turns liquid and scorching. He likes that I’m not shy.

And I like that he likes that.

He steps away from the table. Despite the heat in his eyes, he doesn’t rush. No. He stalks towards me slowly, deliberately. A slow smile spreads across my face.

This wasn’t what I was looking for. But it’s exactly what I need. For the first time since my death, I come alive. Electrified. If I still had a pulse, I’m sure it would be racing.

I get up. Even though I’m plenty tall, I still have to look up to meet his eyes. But I want him to see me, all of me. And from the smile that curls across his face, he likes what he sees.

A spicy licorice scent washes over me as he draws close.

He extends a hand towards me, and I take it. Rough calluses caress my skin.

“Wanna dance?” His low voice sounds less like an invitation and more like a challenge.

I smirk. “I thought you’d never ask.”