“He’s not my boyfriend,” I finally tell her in a lost voice that’s too hoarse to really say much else.
“Mmm, so he is a sugar daddy.”
“No,” I shake my head, but the thoughts inside are still muddled from the vampire’s kiss.
A cool hand slips into mine and I’m torn away from my churning mind as Prey pulls me toward him, his free hand slipping around my waist as he leads me back into the safety of my own apartment. He’s shirtless again, and his hair is eternally messy. One thing is different though...
“Come back to bed, baby,” he says with a bizarre and unfitting smile. A charming smile. A totally misplaced smile on his psychotic fucking lips.
What in the Ann Rice fanfiction is wrong with this vampire?
Did someone feed him after midnight?
Preynuzzles along my throat as he looks over my shoulder. I catch him giving Miss Croot a dramatic wave of his fingers and a wink before he kicks the door shut behind us. The door slams closed with a rattle and a gasp heard from the other side. And that signals the end of Prey’s performance. His hand drops from my waist and he turns his back on me.
“Okay. Let’s get to work.” He claps loudly, causing the two wolves to jump at the sound of it.
I’m still dazed and numb.
But I do know… I’m officially in a life or death situation with four. Addicting. Fucking. Lunatics.
Five
Prey
She’s weak. How she’s even supposed to be blood related to my mistress I’ll never know.
She stumbles once more and it’s her damn posture that pisses me off the most.
“Straighten your shoulders!” I shove against her slender frame, and she wobbles at the slightest push of my hand against her body.
Weak.
“Why do I have to practice appearances when I still don’t know anything about the layout of the world you’re wanting to throw me into?” she whines.
“Because if you can’t walk in stilettos, Kyra’s favorite fucking shoes even, you wont make it one step into the world we want to throw you into. Vampires live forever. They have plenty of time to pick people apart. They’ll know in a single second just by your appearance if you’re a real or a fake.” My jaw grinds hard and I can’t help but drag my hand down my face. I’m exhausted. She’s exhausting. “Now, straighten your fucking shoulders.”
Her glare is a seething thing. At least that matches Kyra’s.
That might be the only thing.
“My life comes down to the fate of a pair of shoes?” Her eyes narrow harshly on me.
“Your life comes down to the fate of knowing who Kyra Vega is, inside and out.” My jaw grinds so hard it sends pain shooting through my skull.
“She’s my twin!” The human girl says exasperatedly.
“Was. She was your twin. Before she was a vampire.” I close my eyes slowly to the annoying girl I’ve been left accountable for. “Tell me, what was something she loved before she was changed?”
That hate in her eyes ignites as she shakes her head.
“Life.” My heart stutters at the sound of her simple reply. “Art. Writing. She loved everything and everyone, and then… and then you fuckers should have just let her die in peace. Because the woman I met with once a month for the last two years wasn’t the free spirit I grew up with. She wasn’t the “fun twin” like everyone always told her.” Her eyes dampen just slightly, but she blinks that emotion away furiously as her words continue to teeter on a scream. “She was serious and alert, and informed on every single thing that happened in Crimson City. Because that’s what happens when you’re deathly afraid of the person who raped and turned you into a monster. So yeah, as I fight for my life with you blood sucking zombies, I’ll be just like her, I’m sure.” She folds her arms in a huff, but still sways a bit in the four-inch black pumps.
I roll my eyes in frustration, despite how the dull beating of my heart sinks for her as well as my mistress.
“You’re right.” I say on a slow exhale, and she too is surprised by my agreement.
Until I lift my fingers, settle them along her smooth, delicate shoulder and give her a nice shove.
