Page 9 of Bite Back

DELILAH

The change in him is instant. Like flicking a switch. The moment his finger brushed my fang, his whole body stiffened. He’s staring at me now, eyes wide.

“You’re a vampire.” His voice comes out flat, expressionless, cold.

“Yes. And?” I raise an eyebrow. We’re in Aconite, for crying out loud. This place is vamp central. The fact that I’m a vampire shouldn’t be a revelation. What. The. Hell.

“You’re a vampire.” He says it softer this time, so low I can barely hear it above the music, even with my newly enhanced hearing.

“Yes. I’m. A. Vampire.” I stamp out each word, trying to drill them through his head.

“I don’t date vampires.”

“Good thing we aren’t dating then.” Heat radiates through me. The past few minutes had been precious. An escape, a respite from the molten lava churning in my core.

“I don’t fuck vampires.”

I recoil at the venom lacing his tone. “Well, you just did.” But that’s not enough.

That’s not far enough. I want him to hurt.

I want him to feel the burning ache that consumes my insides.

So I lash out. “Not well. But you did.” Bullseye.

A scarlet flush splashes across his face.

He opens and closes his mouth, sputtering.

I should quit while I’m ahead. But I can’t stop the next question from tumbling out.

“Why the hell are you even here if you don’t fuck around with vamps? ”

He draws himself up to his full, considerable height. It hits me again, even now, how tall and broad he is. He opens his mouth and then shuts it again. When he gathers himself, his low tone slides down my back like a shiver. “I don’t fuck around with vamps because I kill them.”

I’m sure he meant that to be scary, to chase me away.

I’m not scared though. I’m not sure if I can be scared anymore after what happened with Luka.

I’ve survived the worst thing that ever happened to me.

I’ve survived being turned. I’ve survived the death of the future I planned.

Despite the complete and utter asshole this man is being, my gut tells me he’s hardly a coldblooded killer.

Then again, given my track record, can I really trust my instincts?

The smart thing to do would be to walk away. To go home. To play it safe.

So, of course, I stay. “Oh really?” My parted lips frame my teeth, and my tongue traces the elongated tip of my canine. He flinches, and I savor the reaction. I like making this man squirm. In more ways than one, apparently.

I flung it out there as a rhetorical question. More a parry than a query. But he squares his shoulders. “I’m a vampire slayer. Academy trained.”

Well shit. That explains why he’s at Aconite. The slayers like to prowl vampire haunts, searching out the worst of the worst. The vampires who go too far. Ironically, we’re here for the same reason. For me though, it’s personal.

We shouldn’t have an issue. All I’ve done is look around for my ex. That’s not a crime. I haven’t committed any crimes. Yet.

But clearly this slayer has an issue with me. And seemingly all vamps.

He clears his throat. He’s staring at me, brow furrowed.

“Are you okay?” His words are surprisingly soft, at odds with the argument we were having moments ago. It almost makes me think he genuinely cares. Almost. Even though I’m a vamp, who he apparently hates on principle.

I nod. I don’t know how else to respond, how to take this shift in his demeanor.

“You’re okay to get yourself home?” Again, that same mystifying softness.

I summon my sass. “Do I look like I’m not?

” He’s the one with the problem after all.

Not me. Hell, I might as well give it one more shot now that he’s softened.

Maybe it was just a surprise. Maybe I can fix it, smooth things over.

“Although I’d prefer not to go home alone.

” The statement trails off, an unspoken invitation suspended between us.

He shakes his head, and, for a moment, a wince flashes across his face.

He pulls his hair back, and, despite everything, I’m mesmerized as the dark strands slip through his fingers.

For a moment, I imagine the fingers brushing through the strands are mine.

Bun secured, he turns and, without a backwards glance, walks through the crowd.

My gaze follows his head as he navigates the sea of bobbing bodies until, finally, he disappears. Hopefully for good.

I stand there frozen. Waves of club goers stream past me, parting around me.

My eyes slide out of focus. It’s better this way, more manageable.

Since I turned, I’ve faced a constant barrage of minutiae.

Sounds, smells, sights, assaulting me, a constant, never-ending stream.

It’s sensory overload. And, right now, I need a break from it all.

The colors around me blur into an impressionist scene.

I tune out the sounds until they fade to a quiet roar.

Hold my breath and do my best to ignore the tantalizing scent of blood pumping around me.

It doesn’t work. Flashes of sequined dresses flare across my vision like fireworks. Raucous laughter rises above the roar. And, even holding my breath, the sweet tang of blood sings to me. It doesn’t stop. I can’t escape. This is it. No peace, no calm.

That truth sinks into me like a brand. I recognized this would be a big change, of course.

I was naive, but not that naive. But I thought I’d have Luka next to me to help me through it.

Someone to guide me. Someone to comfort me.

Someone to give me a reason why all of this was worth it.

I never wanted to be a vampire for me. I wanted it for him.

For us. For the future I thought we’d build together.

The future Luka burned to the ground. I constructed all my life, all my plans, around someone who kicked me to the curb.

And I hate him for it. I hate myself for it too.

Every red flag I missed, every excuse I made, every moment that led to here and now piles before me.

I blink back the tears welling in my eyes, hot and insistent.

I try to focus back on the heat simmering within me, to lose myself in it.

I need to blame him because otherwise I’ll blame myself.

I wish I could do it all over. But life doesn’t come with a rewind button. Unfortunately.

Eventually, I wind my way back to an empty booth and slide in.

I slump over the table and caress the soft velvet seat.

My hand trembles. I feel like I got punched in the gut.

When we were together, on the dancefloor, in the hallway, for the first time since I was changed, I felt alive.

I felt like me. Maybe not who I was. But like I was more than a shell.

I’ve spent the time since I turned fixating on revenge.

And maybe that’s all that’s left for me.

I spent so much time imagining my future with Luka. Had it all planned out. It was everything we already had and more. More time together, more love, more laughter. But, without someone to share it with, forever’s a scary long time. There’s no expiration date, no guidebook.

It’s hard to imagine how to make an eternity matter.

Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it won’t.

Unbidden, the images rise in my mind. The warm glow of the refrigerator light in the shadowy apartment, illuminating the dingy white counters and the worn wood floors.

Fridge packed to the brim, with nothing but plastic bags of ruby red liquid.

The singular squeak of the plaid sofa as I sink down onto it, arms and legs spread in the moonlight.

Waking up drenched in the pale lemony morning light, arms and legs tangled in nothing but white sheets.

I shove the images out of my mind. I can’t go down this road.

If I do, I won’t be able to move forward.

I’d collapse under the weight of what I’ve lost, the future I’d imagined for myself.

Can you lose something you never truly had? I’m not sure you can. But it sure as hell hurts like it.

I reach for my phone. Sarah and Kirby put their numbers in.

I shoot off a message.

Delilah: Well, he’s not at Aconite.

Kirby: He’s still not here, either.

I’m not sure of the logistics of how a ghost texting works but apparently it does. That checks out though. I doubt he’d go back to Hector’s now that we’re over. He hated that place. Too many other supernaturals.

Sarah: Sorry, that fucking sucks.

Three dots flash across the screen.

Sarah: Or am I not supposed to say sucks?

Delilah: Meh, I’m here for the vampire puns.

It would drive Luka nuts. And that means I fucking love it. If I have to deal with all this bullshit, I’m sure as hell going to joke about it.

Sarah: Oh good, because I’ve got a hell of a lot more where that came from.

I picture the grin curling along Sarah’s lips. A soft smile teases the corner of my mouth.

Delilah: I’m not sure I have the brains for any good zombie puns.

Kirby: Nice one.

Sarah: And here I was getting worried you’d ghosted us.

Kirby: Present.

Kirby: But seriously, how are you feeling?

How do I feel? I answer honestly.

Delilah: Angry. Confused. Horny.

I can’t drop that last one without an explanation. I type out what happened between me and the slayer. I reread the message, and heat blossoms across my cheeks. Too many details. I delete and start over, keeping it short and sweet.

Kirby: SHIIIIIIIITTTT

Kirby: !!!!!???!!!!

Sarah: You can do better.

I can almost hear Sarah’s voice as she says it, firm and authoritative.

Delilah: More like I have better things to do.

It’s true. I have so many better things to do than moping about some guy.

I need to find Luka. I need to find my closure. But first, I need to forget.

My eyes pick along the dancers swaying on the floor.

My eyes skate over unbuttoned shirts and tight dresses.

An Asian woman in a floral dress extends a hand.

An invitation to leave the sidelines. Her black hair cascades down her shoulders in glossy curls, and a berry hue lines her lips.

She’s absolutely gorgeous. Fuck it. Fuck him.

I take her hand, and she pulls me into the masses.

Bodies brush and bump against me as we plunge deeper into the crowd.

Her hand hovers over my hip, and I nod my permission.

Warmth shoots through me at the contact.

Our bodies synchronize with the pulsing music, and I tilt my head back, resting it on her shoulder.

The lights sweep over our bodies, begging me to forget.

But try as I might, I can’t forget him. I can’t lose myself. But that doesn’t stop me from trying.