Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(90)

The vampire suddenly screamed a horrid shrill and fell to his knees, clutching his neck where a two-foot, thin metal rod embedded.

“Let her the f*ck go.”

Kilter?

I dove for the door on the opposite side of the car, but a vampire was already there and blocked my escape. He climbed in and grabbed my wrist. I screamed as shooting pain went through my shoulder.

Jasmine jumped into the front seat and started the engine while two vampires fended off what looked like flying metal rods whirling toward them.

The car slammed into reverse.

The open passenger door hit the alley wall, bent, and then snapped under the pressure.

A rod went through the front windshield, narrowly missing Jasmine’s face, and went straight into the skull of the vampire holding my wrist.

Jasmine made a horrid screech and the car lurched backward faster.

I looked down the alley and my heart stopped. Kilter stood with his feet braced, knife in one hand and a metal rod in the other.

“Kilter, watch out. Her webs,” Roarke shouted.

Webs shot out the side window and went straight for Kilter. I threw my body over the seat, hooking my arms around the Lilac’s neck. The webs shot off in all directions then dissipated.

“Bitch,” she shrieked, jamming her elbow back into my cheek, breaking my hold.

I dove for the open door, but something had hold of my ankle. I looked down and discovered webs crawling up my leg.

The car veered to the right as another rod pierced the windshield and the SUV slammed into a brick wall. The Lilac cursed as she looked over her shoulder at me, glaring. “Enough of this. He dies.”

She jumped out of the car.





My mind spun in a hazy dark abyss, not knowing who I was or what was happening to me as confusion swirled. It was like being torn apart then jammed back together again. But I was different. I wasn’t the same.

One thought remained clear—the need for blood.

With each new breath, it was an awakening from my existence of dull grey into a kaleidoscope of scents, sounds, and colors. I smelled the old walnut hardwood floors, the cotton sheets washed in lavender and honey with a hint of rose, the bathroom had mango soap and coconut shampoo. But there was one scent that overpowered all others—Damien. I’d recognize him anywhere, and yet when I tried to focus on him, I couldn’t.

I heard voices, deep male tones speaking, but it wasn’t aloud. It was in my head, but I couldn’t decipher what was being said.

I glanced up at the odd-looking animal that held me. His heartbeat was calm and steady like Damien’s had been when I rested my head on his chest. It was soothing, and the buzzing voices eased.

I tried to say Damien’s name, but no words emerged. Instead, a raw dry hiss escaped. I tried to focus on the shadows in the room, but unlike the enhanced sounds and smells, my vision was muddled and everything blended together in shades of red.

I fought the truth, but I knew what it was. Everything in my body had changed. My senses changed. My mind changed and my craving for blood was no longer for just any blood, but Liam’s.

Oh, God. No. No.

I didn’t want this.

I’d rather be dead.

I screamed.

Screamed for death to take me.

Screamed to escape my body.

I was trapped to Liam. Trapped to bloodthirst. A slave to my body’s needs over any morals. It was going to destroy me. I didn’t want this.

“Abbs, Simian is going to pick you up.”

My eyes darted to the red shadow a few feet from the bed. Damien. I couldn’t make out his form, but his voice and scent I knew.

I jerked as warm, soft, paw-like hands slid underneath me, and for a second, I rebelled until I breathed in the scent of Damien wafting from the animal’s coat. It wasn’t Damien, but a part of him, a piece of his own entity.

I calmed and let the animal pick me up in his arms then curled into his massive strength. The soft fur warmed my chilled flesh and I laid my head on its chest as he carried me from the room.

The buzzing began again, and I covered my ears and gritted my teeth in pain. A hand calmly caressed my hair and I closed my eyes. Soothing. Warm. Keep me warm.

I knew the second we were outside as millions of smells and sensations riddled me all at once—the wind ruffling my hair, bringing the scent of pine, moss, and wet soil. It bombarded me. It was too strong. The wind felt like hands smothering my skin, and with so many scents, it burned my nostrils.

I couldn’t take it. I had to go back. Back inside where it was safe.

I struggled against the massive arms, pushing on the chest, legs kicking, body flailing.

“She has no control over the magnified senses yet,” a voice said.

“When does it get better for her?”

Damien. He was close to me, and the urge to escape lessened.

“We’ll give her blood when she is contained at the house. It’ll ease the pain and strengthen her, but it isn’t Liam’s blood. She will crave his.”

I heard Damien swear under his breath and it echoed in my ears as if I was in a hollow cave. But what scared me was, when they mentioned Liam’s name, my body reacted. It hungered for him.

Oh, God, how could I fight this? But somewhere in my f*cked-up mind, I knew there was no fighting it. I’d Transitioned into a vampire. I was one of them, and there was no escape.

A loud bang and click sounded then another before the engine of the car purred.