Page 3 of Bitten Vampire

I hunch against the kitchen counter and let reality settle. A sob traps in my throat, and my arms fall to my sides, lifeless. That went exactly as I feared. I barely managed two sentences before he shut me down.

I’m disappointed in him, but… I’m more disappointed in myself.

I’m embarrassed.

Embarrassed I dared to hope. Dared to want more, dared to believe I was worth loving. Worth fighting for.

I feel so ashamed.

I press a trembling hand to my mouth, tears slippingdown my cheeks as the sad reality burns my throat. Deep down I always knew I wasn’t enough for him—or at least not in his eyes. He shows me in a hundred small ways: every dismissive comment, every selfish choice. Even tonight he brought food only for himself.

Yet I clung to him, pretending not to notice, numbing myself because admitting the truth meant leaving, and I wasn’t ready.

I wasn’t ready until now.

I’m still not ready.

Winifred, do you want to be loved like this for the rest of your life?

A hollow, bitter laugh escapes through my hand. I have been so in love, so befuddled by hope, that I overlooked the glaring red flags, like bunting wrapped around him, chaining us both.

Mum would have hated Jay. Hated how he treated me. I met him just after she died, when I was broken with grief and utterly vulnerable. She had been caught in the crossfire of a magical skirmish—a spell had misfired into a crowd of onlookers and killed her instantly. Old, familiar pain carves another hole in my chest. It was my fault. If only I hadn’t asked her to pick up that parcel.

Perhaps that’s why I let Jay in.

Why I pursued a relationship I would never have tolerated if she had been alive. Even in the early days, Jay was dismissive of my feelings.

I wipe my face as something shifts inside. Even the kindest souls have limits, and Jay is about to learn that he does not get unlimited chances. He had two choices tonight: commit or watch me walk away.

I’m done.

Staying will only hurt me now.

I stare at the Beef Wellington resting on its wire rack, at its golden-crusted puff pastry encasing savoury mushroom duxelles and perfectly medium-rare beef tenderloin. I stamp on the pedal-operated bin; its lid flips open. Snatching the Wellington from the rack—burning my fingers, flakes of pastry lodging under my nails—I drop it inside. The dauphinoise potatoes and green beans follow.

He’s not getting anything nice from me again.

I will need somewhere to live and a new job. His mother will make my life hell. It’s going to be a nightmare. I have no family; there is no safety net. But the rose-coloured glasses are off, and I cannot stay.

I won’t.

Chapter Two

Four Months Later

“Don’t come back!”my landlord yells as he tosses my belongings out of the first-floor window of the scruffy little house. They rain down around me, scattering across the grass and snagging on the thorny hedge bordering the street.

Wow. He’s angry.Like a proper numpty, I stand there frozen with my mouth open, staring.

There’s a thump of a wagging tail hitting the grass and a playful growl. I glance at the dog who started all this, happily gnawing on a piece of black fabric clutched between his grey and white paws.

“Baylor, no, really? Do you have to?”

He’s slobbering, tearing into my favourite pair of knickers,the expensive satin-and-lace kind. I groan and rub my eyes. I know better than to try to take them from him. A Saturday morning Husky-underwear-tug-of-war isn’t on my to-do list.

At least the distraction keeps him occupied and stops him from ruining anything else.

I hope.