Once Bitten (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #1)(45)

“I’m done. I’ll be seeing colors in my dreams as it is.”

He chuckled and turned the PlayStation off. The apartment went silent. “I should probably start getting ready for work anyway.”

“Well, thanks for entertaining me. It’s been a while since we got to do this. It was nice.” I was doing a rotten job of maintaining eye contact, but I felt weird and knew he would see it in my face. Of course, he could sense the rapid beat of my heart.

“It was.” Shaz leaned casually against the wall as I gathered my things to leave. “So why don’t we go out sometime? On a real date, I mean.”

In turn, I sensed the blood rushing through him. His cheeks were flushed, and I couldn’t hide my smile.

“You’re asking me on an official date?”

Thinking back briefly, I couldn’t recall ever having been asked out on an actual date. My teen years and early twenties had been chaotic enough without romance of the human variety. After the last week, I was astonished that he even wanted a date with me.

“Yes. I’m asking you on a date. Dinner, on me.”

“And after?” I dared to ask playfully.

He shrugged. “Catch a movie, go for a run, park and make out. Whatever you prefer.”

Energy shifted between us. At the core of me, where the power of my werewolf lay rooted, I felt him. Like a shadow that I could feel but not see, his wolf lingered, hesitant to reach for me.

The vampire in my energy made him pause, and I hated that. I knew the touch of his skin as well as I knew the silk of his fur or the musk of his scent. I longed to pull his wolf around me like a blanket to drown out the energy of the grave. Everything with Arys felt more wrong when I was this close to Shaz’s pure, untainted aura.

But, I couldn’t force out what I had allowed to become a part of me. It scared me to the tips of my toes to think that I might not ever be able to.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Shaz.” I giggled slightly and felt like a total moron. I heard him release the breath he’d been holding.

“Great. How’s Friday?”

I would have ditched anything to say yes to him in that moment. As I scanned through my mental calendar, I was already free that day.

When we’d confirmed that he would pick me up at nine on Friday, I crossed the threshold into the hall and turned back to say goodbye. I loved that he was just there, close enough for me to feel.

His breath was warm and inviting. His kiss was chaste but tender. Still, I felt his hunger leashed beneath his calm surface.

My heart skipped a beat when, just as fast as he was there, he was gone. Only his scent lingered to tease me as I waited for the elevator. I was one damn confused werewolf.

Chapter Thirteen

I simply didn’t want to face anymore of Arys’s evil. I’d avoided Lucy’s Lounge and had carried the manila folder around for three days without cracking the cover. It did nothing to alleviate the growing confusion or the guilt over leaving Arys to fight the shift on his own. I wanted to pretend it would just go away. Instead, avoiding the vampire made the newfound power and the blood thirst more pronounced rather than subdued. It itched and clawed at my insides.

Rather than face Cat’s thoughts on Arys, I screwed around for as long as I could justify it to myself. Menial tasks like tidying the kitchen counters and folding laundry grabbed my attention easier than ever before, and I dragged the chores out until I had nothing left to keep me from the folder. Well, the walls could use a fresh coat of paint but I had to draw the line somewhere.

I had no excuse to avoid Cat’s evidence any longer. The cream-colored folder lay open on the desk in the small office I share with Ky. Sounds from late night television murmured quietly from the small TV set in the corner. A glass of my favorite red wine stood tall next to the sheaf of papers, awaiting my return.

Finally, I stared at the folder and thought, Arys is a vampire who enjoys it. What more do I need to know? Bothered by the prospect of a reason to take Arys out within those pages, I took a large, un-lady-like gulp of wine first.

Even my knowledge of the vampire’s bizarre memories didn’t prepare me for what I discovered on the series of crisp, white photocopied pages of Cat’s journal. Before reaching the end of the first page, I was sitting up a little straighter in my chair with rapt attention. As I read, his memories began to take form inside my mind.

Catherine had written about her time as a new vampire with him. Her tales of seduction as a key component in inevitable murder resulted in a spattering of goose bumps along my arms. The wheels turned faster in my brain as I tapped into his memories of those same events.

Arys fed on much more than blood alone. Like a cat with a mouse, he drew out his excruciating game in order to savor it completely. Most of his victims were more than a quick snack. He used seduction and fear as an intoxicant, vital to his feeding process. Arys rarely took blood without the kill. In his earlier days as a vampire, he had little regard for the value of human life and used no discretion when choosing a victim.

As I read, I began to get the impression that Catherine had been nothing more to him than a victim gone wrong. He had never meant for her to survive him. Not only did he continue to bed his victims after forming a relationship with her, but he also encouraged her to do the same.

Arys loved to swim in the heady sexual energy of his lovers. I knew this personally. Their pleasurable responses generated higher energy production for him to consume. It made perfect sense, and yet I couldn’t shake the heavy feeling that formed in the pit of my stomach.