“She’s not human,” one of them says, and there’s fear in his voice now. “Viktor didn’t tell us she wasn’t human.”
Viktor?
The name means nothing to me, but I file it away for later.If there is a later.
I push myself to my feet, my hands still blazing, and the vampires circle me warily now. Not predators cornering prey, but predators trying to decide if the prey might be more dangerous than they thought.
“Stay back,” I warn, and my voice sounds different, stronger, layered with something that makes the air vibrate. “I don’t know what I am, but I will burn every one of you if you come near me!”
One of them laughs nervously. “She doesn’t even know. She’s untrained. We can still—” He lunges.
Pure instinct takes over. I don’t think, I don’t plan, I react. My burning hand comes up, and when he grabs my wrist, the flames surge. They pour into him in a violent wave, crimson-gold fire forcing its way beneath his skin, crawling up his arm in searing veins before spilling across his chest in a web of living light.
His scream is worse than the first one. Torn raw by the smell of burning flesh and a darker note beneath it, death igniting from the inside out.
He lets go and staggers back, beating at the flames with his hands, but they won’t go out. They cling to him, feed on him, and within seconds, he’s engulfed.
“Fuck this,” the third creature says, and suddenly they’re gone. All three of them, even the burning one, move with impossible speed. I hear car tires screech somewhere on another level, then silence.
I’m alone.
The fire in my hands dims, gutters, and dies. I stare at my palms, at the faint glow still pulsing beneath my skin in time with my racing heart.
What the hell just happened?
My legs give out, and I sink to my knees on the cold concrete, shaking so hard my teeth chatter. Shock—I’m going into shock. I know the signs, having treated it a hundred times, but knowing doesn’t help.
I just fought off three…
What the hell were they?
I just manifested fire from my hands.
Fire that burns other people but not me.
“What am I?” I whisper to the empty garage. “What the hell am I?”
That’s when I feel it. A pull. It’s not physical, but something deeper. A tug in my chest that points like a compass toward… something.
Someone.
Crave.
His name fills my mind the moment before I hear the roar of a motorcycle engine.
Tires screech as his Harley tears into the garage, taking the turns too fast, too reckless. He slides to a stop ten feet from where I’m kneeling, the bike still rumbling as he leaps off.
“Sloane!” He’s at my side in a heartbeat, his hands hovering over me as if he’s afraid to touch me. His silver eyes are wild, frantic, scanning me for injuries. “Are you hurt?” His voice is rough, barely controlled. “Tell me you’re not hurt.”
“I’m fine.” The words come out shaky. “I’m… they didn’t… I burned them.”
His eyes snap to my hands, taking in the faint glow still visible on my palms. Something crosses his face. It’s not surprise, it is recognition and something darker.
Fear.
“How many?” he demands.
“Three.”
