Page 14 of Donovan

A sickening crack. The rabid vampire jerked violently, back arching, clawed fingers scrabbling at my arms. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t strong enough.

The thing lunged again.

And then?—

A bite. Hot. Searing.

Teeth sank into my shoulder, tearing through flesh like paper.

I roared in pain. The world tilted. My vision blurred at the edges, red-hot agony blotting out all thought. I snapped. With a wild, unhinged snarl, I slammed my fist into its face.

Once. Twice. Again. Again.

Until I felt the crunch of bone beneath my knuckles. Its grip loosened.

I barely managed to shove it off before it collapsed in a twitching heap, eyes rolling back, body spasming violently.

Then stillness.

The only sound left was my own ragged, shallow breathing. My pulse thundered in my ears. My muscles trembled, every inch of me screaming in pain.

I glanced down.

Blood. So much of it. My blood.

It poured from the open wound on my shoulder, staining my already ruined clothes, soaking into my skin like ink.

A cold, sick realization gripped my chest. It was too late. My breath hitched.

No.No, no, no.This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I stared at the corpse of the thing that had done this to me, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs.

My thoughts were a mess of white noise, panic clawing its way up my throat.

Vampire bites weren’t instant death.

Not always.

But this? This was different.

I could feel it. A wrongness spreading beneath my skin.

My fingers twitched. My vision swam. A strange, unnatural cold seeped into my bones, coiling around my chest like a vice.

I barely noticed the buzzing at first. It was faint. Distant. A sound that didn’t belong.

Then my body jerked. A sudden, overwhelming nausea crashed into me, twisting my stomach, making my skin crawl. The buzzing sound grew louder. Persistent. Insistent.

My phone. My phone.

With numb fingers, I reached for it, barely registering the movement. The screen glowed, too bright, too sharp against the dark. Donovan.

I blinked. My mind was slipping, my thoughts unraveling like frayed thread. I shouldn’t call him. I shouldn’t drag him into this. But my thumb moved on its own.

The phone rang once. Twice.

"Declan?"