“What?”
“You must be thirsty.”
A pang of hunger jolted inside, intensifying with the suggestion to feed. “Yes.”
“Good. I know just the place.”
“Where?”
“Come with me.” She looped her arm through mine and led us away from the shore. We headed toward the commercial area flanked with buildings. Every minute or so, she turned over her shoulder.
“Why do you keep looking behind you?” I asked.
Her jawline twitched. “No reason.”
I turned back as well. “Do you think someone’s following us?”
Her lips pulled into a tight smile. “Just making sure. Don’t worry, Diego, there’s nothing to worry about. Everything is going to be okay.”
Was it, though? The sense that something was off pervaded me, but I couldn’t pinpoint why.
She stopped before a clock. “Oh good, it’s almost time.”
“For what?”
She turned to me with an expectant glint in her eyes. “To feed.”
I searched the commercial district where humans dined in restaurants and pubs, the scents of their favored food and drink pervading the night air.
“Where?”
“Do you remember what I told you the other night about a vampire ball?”
I searched my brain again, still swamped with fog as thick as a London night. Something jogged my memory about her mentioning an event, but it was fuzzy. “Diana, I’m having trouble remembering things.” I touched the side of my head. “Something seems wrong.” I searched her face. “Why did my head hurt so badly? Why can’t I remember?”
She raised her hand to my cheek. “Once you feed, you’ll feel much better. Trussst me.” The snake-like sound swam in my skull.
Yes, I had to trust her. After all, she was my fiancée, my maker, my lover. It was natural for me to believe in the woman who I’d spend eternity with. Yet, the back of my neck tingled with my unease.
Maybe she was right, I just needed to feed. My mouth salivated at the promise of a warm meal.
She tipped her chin forward and searched my eyes. “Do you trust me, Diego?”
“Of course I do,” I replied.
“Good.” With a satisfied expression, she took my hand and resumed walking the brick pavement. “Come with me.”
When we crossed the road away from the crosswalk, a driver slammed on his brakes and beeped at us. I stepped forward to protect her, and Diana turned at bolt speed to face the car. She hissed and curled her fingers like fierce talons.
The man drove around her. “Crazy bitch.”
She jerked and glared at him driving away, her eyes darkening with crimson rage. For a flash, I feared she’d go after him and drain him, leaving nothing more than a corporeal husk.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
The fury slid from her face, replaced with a saccharine smile, yet the reddish hue lingered around her pupils. “Now where were we? Oh yes, going to a feast.”
“A feast?” I repeated.
