“Well, thank you, Morgan. This was actually a nice conversation. I don’t want to kill you or anything.” I extend my hand for him to shake, and he grabs it with both of his.
“Thank you for trusting me. Will I…” He clears his throat and moves to stand, shuffling uneasily from foot to foot. “Will I see you again?”
I smile slightly. “Goodnight, Morgan.”
Grabbing my purse from the booth, I flick my fingers in a semblance of a wave and hurry outside. It’s dark, nearly ten o’clock, and a chilly wind causes goosebumps to pimple on my skin. Soon, it’ll begin to snow.
I’m halfway to my car when my phone begins ringing. Irritated, I don’t bother checking the number before I answer it.
“What?” I snap, fully expecting it to be my father on the other line apologizing profusely.
“Hello to you too, Pinkie.” Mason chuckles, and my spirits instantly lift. His enthusiasm for life is infectious. Whenever he smiles, I can feel my own traitorous lips curve up as well. Though, I can’t technically see him smile on the phone. For all I know, his face is impassive as he laughs.
“Shit. Sorry. I thought you were my dad.”
“And I take it you’re not pleased with him right now?” Mason guesses. I sigh, picking up my pace as I cross the nearly empty parking lot. Only my car and a rusty pickup truck remain.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I grumble, fumbling for my keys. Well, Jack’s keys. I totally stole his car.
“When are you going to be back?” Mason questions, and I can imagine him lying indolently on the bed, maybe tossing a ball up and down like they do in the movies.
“In fifteen minutes.” I don’t invite him to my room. While I’m not as mad at Mason as I am at the others—he was quite literally hung up when I needed him—I still don’t want him around. He makes me feel too much, too quickly. It’s not healthy. “I’m going to be driving soon, so I’ll call you back, okay?”
He sighs in resignation. “Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow, Pinkie.”
“See you.”
I press the red button to hang up my phone and shove it in my pocket. The car beeps when I unlock it, the sound ominous in the quiet lot.
I’ve just touched the door handle when something hits me in the back of the head, my vision blurring and ears ringing.
What. The. Fuck?
Chapter 2
Violet
I spin, fangs bared, to see nothing but an empty parking lot. The lone streetlight casts everything in a white glow.
“What the hell?” I snap, nursing my injured scalp. My fingers come away painted with blood. It hurts like a bitch, but it’ll heal in a couple of minutes.
I twist, body braced for a fight, but the lot is silent. Empty.
With another quick look in both directions, I duck into the car, locking it immediately.
“Fuck,” I breathe, anxiously glancing from side to side. A figure catches my attention in the rearview mirror, and I look over my shoulder, startled, only to see the backseat empty.
What the hell? I could’ve sworn I saw…
Well, does it sound ridiculous if I say I could’ve sworn I saw a man sitting there with bloody tears?
Yes. Yes, it does.
It’s official—I’m losing my mind.
I tentatively lift my head to stare up at the rearview mirror again…and once more, I see a man sitting in the back of the car with blood cascading down his cheeks.
This time, I don’t hesitate to release the dagger I’d hidden up my sleeve before I arrived. It slices cleanly through the air, embedding itself in the upholstered seat.
“What the fuck?” I murmur, glancing around the empty car. I can practically feel the eyes on my back. It’s a prickling sensation, the one you get when you’re in a crowded room but know someone is watching you. Unease slithers up my spine, and cold ice encases me.
My head is yanked back, pain exploding across my scalp, and I feel hands around my neck. The strength of this monster surpasses even mine—I’m helpless to escape its iron grip. Very few things can kill me, but decapitation? I don’t think anyone can survive that.
Fingernails scratch my skin, pulling, pulling, pulling…
Twisting…
Blood forms in my mouth where my teeth bite down on my lip, and the pain intensifies, exploding like errant fireworks, a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes.
Unbidden, my eyes flicker to the rearview mirror again. A figure is visible in the reflection, his hands wrapped around my throat. I can see that he wears all white, stained with blood, and has dark skin and even darker hair.
Morgan.
When he smiles, meeting my gaze in the mirror, I notice razor-sharp teeth coated in blood.
“Vampire scum,” he hisses, voice guttural and nearly unrecognizable. “Death to all vampires.”
I gurgle, struggling to reply. To tell him he’s an asshole who’s going to get his balls removed and served to him on a dinner plate. To tell him I don’t deal with betrayal well.
But my consciousness is steadily leaving. Retreating. Draining away like water trickling down a sink.
I see Morgan’s eyes widen slightly in the mirror a second before it shatters, glass scattering everywhere. The pressure around my neck alleviates immediately, and I gasp, panting. My hands scramble to protect my sensitive throat, fear pulsating through me.
A moment later, I hear a scream, the sound of more glass breaking, and then the car door being wrenched open.
Dimitri Gray materializes like an avenging angel before me. Dressed in black with his light hair slicked back in a low ponytail, he displays a savage type of beauty. Beastly and untamed. Feral almost, as if he doesn’t quite know who’s friend and who’s foe. There’s a predatory glint in his eyes, and blood coats his lean, muscular frame. Behind him, Morgan’s lying in a pool of his own blood, sightless eyes gazing up at the star-lit sky.
“Bloody Mary’s son,” Dimitri explains casually, wiping blood from his blade on his shirt. “He uses mirrors for his kills. Break all the mirrors in a ten-foot radius, and he’s forced to appear in the material realm. Easy to kill then.”
“What… How?”
“Are you okay?” His eyes darken. “Did he hurt you?”
“What…?” I whisper, unable to articulate any other words.
With a gentleness belying the anger on his elegant face, Dimitri helps me out of the car. His critical eyes survey me from head to toe, and I have the irresistible urge to shiver. There’s something in his gaze that elicits lightning through my veins. He’s so beautiful it physically pains me to look at him—a sort of unattainable beauty you usually only see on magazine covers and billboards. Ethereal.
“Did. He. Hurt. You?” Each word seems to be physically wrenched from his mouth through heavily clenched teeth.
“No,” I say, though my voice sounds unsure. I have light scratches on my throat, and my head aches like a bitch, but I’ll survive. Already, my vampire healing is kicking in, relieving me of my aches and pains. I clear my throat and repeat in a firmer tone, “No.”
His lips press into a grim, unrelenting line, but he doesn’t contradict me. I feel like he’s undressing me with his intense gaze, leaving me naked and vulnerable. When his eyes lower to my neck, the steel in them hardens to unbearable levels. I know that there will still be bruises darkening my naturally pasty skin. At least for now, until my vampire healing can fully kick in.