Page 20 of Blind Bite (Best Fangs Forever #1)

Chapter Twenty

Do vampires call themselves vamps? I made a mental note to look it up. On second thought, maybe it would be better to ask Felicity.

My heart hammered in my chest. Wait—could vampires’ hearts still beat?

Mine was, well, at least I thought it was.

Hopefully, the rise and fall of my chest still looked normal.

I thought it’d be hard to pretend to breathe, but maybe I was alive recently enough that it still looked natural. Things had to appear normal.

Except I was no longer normal.

Is that how they came up with the word ‘paranormal’?

Another mental note for another day. As of now, I had too much on my plate as it was.

Amelie’s familiar snoring rumbled from her bedroom. Thank god. I crept past her door, wincing at every tiny creak of the floorboards. Everything sounded so much louder now. I could hear the neighbors upstairs breathing and the swoosh of their blood flowing through their veins.

The thought of blood made my stomach ache. What the actual hell?

The bathroom light felt like needles in my eyes when I flipped the switch. I stared at my reflection and nearly fainted. Blood crusted around my mouth, smeared across my chin, and spattered my dress like an abstract painting. I looked like I’d lost a fight with a cherry slushie machine.

After getting the shower started, I stripped and stuffed my clothes into a garbage bag I found under the sink, tying it tightly.

Evidence.

I was disposing of evidence.

Like a murder.

Except I was the victim. Was I an accomplice to my own murder?

Steam filled the room. The shower water felt strange on my skin—neither hot nor cold, just... present. I scrubbed until my skin turned pink, watching red swirl down the drain. My tongue kept finding my new fangs, which had retracted somewhat but still felt alien in my mouth.

All was still silent as I crept into my bedroom wearing my fluffy black towel, my bag of horrors in hand.

I stuffed it into the back of my closet and carefully shut the door.

I’d have to figure out how to get rid of it.

We didn’t have a fireplace to burn them.

Maybe I could somehow sneak it to the next bonfire one of the fraternities was sure to throw.

Opening my dresser, I found my comfiest pajamas and slid them over my clean skin.

The plush of the fabric was a comfort on what was now officially the worst night of my life.

I’d take a hundred great dates that ghosted me over turning into the undead.

I crawled into bed just as dawn broke. Sleep claimed me instantly, like someone had flipped a switch.

“LILITH!” Amelie’s voice and pounding fist jerked me awake. “I’ve gotta leave for work soon, but I want all the dirty details! Martha said the guy from last night was the hottest man she’s ever seen... and she doesn’t even like men!”

Like a siren’s song, the heavenly scent of her blood called to me. My fangs instantly ached, my need for more overwhelmed me. Just a little taste...

No, no, I would not bite my best friend. I wouldn’t bite anyone, I couldn’t. If there was an ethical way to this, I’d find it. First, I needed to survive until she left for work, the temptation was almost too much to bear.

The sunlight streaming through my curtains made my skin prickle painfully. As a panel shifted, one of the soft rays touched me. I hissed—actually hissed—and buried myself deeper under the covers. Blackout curtains were going to need to be overnighted.

“I’m sick,” I croaked, not entirely faking the misery in my voice. “Food poisoning or something.”

“Bullshit! You’re hiding from me because you did something naughty with Speed Dating Guy! Spill.”

“Seriously, Ames. I’m gonna puke if I move.”

A pause. “You do sound like crap. Need anything? Ginger ale? Crackers?”

The thought of human food made my stomach lurch. Would I ever be able to eat my friends' delicious cooking again? “No. Just sleep.”

“Fine,” she called through my door, “but you’re telling me everything later. Text me if you need anything.”

I listened as she gathered her things and left. The apartment soon fell silent except for Mysti’s soft padding toward my door. I finally emerged from my cocoon, while avoiding the burning sunlight, feeling strangely energized despite everything.

This was my new reality. If I could survive today, I could surely persevere... for eternity, right?

I shuffled toward the kitchen, but froze in the hallway. Sunlight flooded our living room from the wide-open blinds. Amelie must have opened them before leaving.

I extended my hand into the light. Pain seared through my skin like I’d thrust it into boiling water. “Fuck!” I yanked it back, watching in horror as my flesh blistered, then began to heal before my eyes.

Well, that was handy.

Mysti appeared at the edge of the hallway, her back arched, fur standing on end as she morphed into a soot-colored fluff ball. She hissed at me, eyes wide with primal fear.

“Mysti? It’s me, girl.”

She bolted, disappearing under the couch. Great. Even my cat knew I was a monster.

I retreated to my room, sinking against the door. My phone buzzed with a text from Amelie.

Amelie

Want me to bring home some soup? We have chicken chowder and a lobster bisque on the menu tonight.

Lilith

I don’t think I can keep anything down. I’m just going to stay in my room until it passes. Don’t want you catching this if it’s contagious.

Next I texted Krista.

Lilith

Got hit with something nasty. Need the week, will keep posted. Sorry for the short notice.

Krista

No worries, keep your germs to yourself, please. It’s a light week anyway. Check in when you can. Feel better soon!

Emails to professors followed. Within minutes, responses trickled in—all sympathetic except for Holloway’s curt reply:

“Miss Bensen,

Attached is a comprehensive list of readings and assignments due upon your return. Illness is not an excuse for intellectual stagnation. -Professor A. Holloway”

Typical grumpy asshole. It was wishful thinking to hope he may have had some luck with speed dating after our awkward “date”. Even as a vampire, I couldn’t escape his particular brand of torture.

My stomach cramped painfully. Hunger. An all-consuming, terrifying hunger for blood. If it was a drug, I’d be addicted.

My new fangs descended involuntarily again, prickling my lower lip. My own blood tasted nothing like the cup Jamie had given me. Warm and rich, the most delicious thing I had ever had. It was a flavor I couldn’t quite describe other than intoxicating.

What was happening to me? How was I supposed to live like this? Trapped in my room by sunlight, feared by my own cat, and craving something I knew deep down I could kill for, if desperate enough.

I slid down the wall, hugging my knees to my chest, and did the only thing that made sense.

I cried.