LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

medical staff checked her out and he wiped away the memory of her two-day ordeal, she was returned home. But now, here she was, at the mercy of Darkbloods again. That was the problem with sweetbloods, they attracted trouble like fresh meat to a zombie.

      He reached over to help her out, but only when she shrank away from him did he realize his own fangs were fully extended. Rather than wasting precious minutes talking her down gently—this wasn’t a time for nice—he grabbed her by the scruff of her jacket and hauled her out.

      “Go back to your mom,” he said as her feet hit the pavement. DB number one was running down the street. Thank the good Lord for the fog. At least it made shadow-moving hard for all of them.

      The girl hesitated, clutched her hands around her middle as if she was about to get sick. A twinge of guilt hit him. All sweetbloods were trouble magnets. He should’ve kept better tabs on her. Just as he should’ve with his sister.

      “Go,” he barked.

      Her whole body jerked as if she were awakening from a far-off trance. She blinked and her eyes focused on him again. “She’s my cousin, not my mom.”

      He bit back a smile as he turned to the guy in the Jeep. Human teenagers … vampire youthlings. They were all the same—concerned with things that didn’t matter in the long run. Her scent was much stronger inside the rig. Instantly, he felt his pupils dilating and a familiar but deafening beat sounded in his head.

      Suddenly, his goal of killing this guy and then catching his friend didn’t seem quite so important. Or at least not as important as feeding his immediate needs.

      Blood. Energies. Blood. Energies. The words drummed in his head with the rhythm of her heartbeat.

      He’d have to wipe their memories, anyway. What was the harm in—

      A sound from the front seat cut through his fucked-up logic like a boning knife.

      Shit. What the hell was he thinking?

      That was the problem. He wasn’t. His dark nature was.

      He should take care of this loser first, anyway.

      Staking a Darkblood would have to be enough to stoke his dark nature—the ancient, violent urges of his ancestors, urges that lived inside every vampire, whether civilized or not.

      He pulled out his curved dragon blade just as the DB opened the door.

      The similarity between Jackson and the DB was painfully obvious. They both wanted the same thing—blood and energies.

      And yet the difference between them was huge. It had to be. He cared about humans and didn’t want to lead a life like this loser. Trolling night after night, living like their ancestors did who preyed on innocent victims and killed them. That wasn’t him. He didn’t want it to be him.

      What he wanted was to make a difference. He wanted to matter. Do what was right. Make those around him proud. But none of that would happen if he let his dark side get too powerful and take over. And if it did, if he slipped up and let himself go, not only would his parents’ expectations and predictions for him have come true, but he’d lose everything he cared about.

      Besides, he thought as he looked at this sorry bastard, he didn’t want to end up like this. Smelling like rotten meat because of an all-blood diet, the Darkblood hissed at Jackson and flashed a mouthful of teeth. His irises were completely black, the whites of his eyes a dark gray, and they locked onto the human female like the desperate predator he was.

      Jackson would fight with everything he had before that happened. It simply wasn’t an alternative.

      Jackson struck fast and the silver went deep. The DB let out a cry and lashed out, his hands dual claws on Jackson’s forearm, clutching, digging.

      “Son of a bitch.”

      The blade had clearly missed its mark, but the DB shouldn’t be this strong, either. A stab by a knife made from this silver alloy should have this guy flat on his ass.

      Unless … he’d had Sweet recently, Jackson realized. Given its healing properties and the high it gave vampires who drank it, that could be the only explanation.

      He withdrew the handle and struck again. This time, he twisted the hilt until the blade went where he wanted it to go.

      The DB finally crumpled to the ground, and Jackson took a half step backward, watching as the body quickly turned to ash. Sadistic, maybe. But Jackson liked to watch this part. All that was left of the guy were rivets, zippers, glass blood vials and collection needles. His dark nature fed on shit like this. The sicker the better. Sure, he lived life hard—partying, screwing, fighting—but it was for a reason. It fed the evil part of him, kept it at bay, preventing him from spiraling out of control.

      “That is so disgusting,” Krystal said from behind, “and it stinks.”

      Having expended all that negative energy, Jackson was feeling better already. Not perfect, but he should be able to manage now. Before he forgot, he retrieved the half-moon blade embedded in the back tire and turned around. Krystal’s cousin, the woman with the golden eyes and the long auburn hair, was partially shrouded in the heavy fog. She was holding up something. Her phone.

      Was she trying to get a signal? he wondered.

      He pulled out his own phone and texted Mitch an I-need-your-fucking-help-now message. He’d need a cleanup crew to dispose of the vehicle and make sure there were no other witnesses. Someone would have to go after the DB that got away, and the two females would need to be taken home and have their memories wiped.

      And then it dawned on him.

      Her phone.

      The woman had been taking pictures.

      WITH A SWIPE OF HIS HAND, the man brushed his hair from his face and came toward them. His strides were long and fluid, like a powerful animal’s. Arianna subtly moved Krystal behind her and took a half step backward.

      Damn her morbid curiosity that always seemed to get in the way of common sense. Why hadn’t they left when they’d had the chance? They could’ve been back home by now behind locked doors. She’d have out her garlic, her crosses and she’d make sure to tell Krystal not to answer the door. Who knew if any of the vampire myths were correct, but she wouldn’t have taken any chances. Too late for that now.

      Her mind spun out of control with the incredible event she’d just witnessed. As unbelievable as it sounded, she couldn’t deny it. Vampires really did exist in this world. They weren’t just made-up stories and fables. They were walking, talking individuals who melted with the shadows and preyed on humans. Thank God, she’d taken pictures and video, otherwise no one would ever believe her. Not even the loyal readers of Paranormalish. She glanced around desperately, looking for a way out.

      “Give it to me.” He snapped his fingers.

      Her first reaction was to do what he said, and she made a move to hand the phone to him. Wait. What was she doing? This was her only evidence of what she’d seen. There was no way in hell anyone would believe her if she didn’t provide proof of what she’d just witnessed. She knew that all too well.

      And those knives of his …

      When he’d pulled one out and raised it above his head, the reflection of the moonlight had flashed along the curved blade, illuminating it from point to hilt. It was as if it were lit from within, drawing power from the man who held it.

      She bristled at his commanding tone and yet she shrank away from him at the same time. “Give what to you?” she asked, quickly finding her courage. She raised the pitch of her voice slightly in an attempt to sound innocent.

      She’d been waiting for most of her life not only to see something like this with her own eyes, but also to have undeniable proof that there was something out there beyond the realm of human reason. Shadows did come to life and threaten people. Just as she always knew they did.

      “The phone,” he growled.

      “I

Скачать книгу