I need more.More. More. More.
The witch’s hands slowly drop. With each pull, I get less and less blood into my mouth. There’s not much left, but I don’t stop. I drink more, not wasting a single drop. Only when I suck and come up empty do I drop the witch’s lifeless body on the ground.
Blood—I need more blood. Kill them to—
The thought drops mid-sentence from my mind. Where should I get more blood? I scent, trying to find blood with the strongest aroma. The first scent that hits me smells similar to the one I just tasted—warm, velvety, with a spark of magic that flickers as it goes down.
I sprint. In less than a second, I’ve grabbed the vessel carrying the blood.
A force hits me in the chest, almost knocking me away. It’s not enough. My grip is stronger. I will not lose this blood. Claws dig into the wrist I’m holding. Wolf claws appeared just when I needed them. Even my wolf side is determined to get this blood.
Witch—the word floats through my head.She must be a witch.
I sink my teeth into her neck. She tastes similar to the other’s. I crave her blood more and more with each pull. I need it. Every. Single. Drop.
I drain her too fast. She’s petite and short. Her blood was barely a snack. I toss her body to the ground in frustration after drinking her dry.
Two bodies’ worth of blood aren’t enough. I should feel sated. I’ve never drunk this much before in one day. Instead, I’m starving.
It must be the witches’ blood. It’s not strong enough. I need something different.
“Nyx, focus…”There’s an annoyingly deep voice in my head, but I block it out. I don’t have time for whatever that nonsense is. I need more blood. Blood that will actually satisfy me.
I scour the woods, my eyes turning into lasers as I search. But all I see or smell are fucking witches. There’s got to be something better.
I scent again—wolves.
My wolves.
Hmmm, they smell good. Probably delicious, but they’re mine. Mine to control. I can feel the threads connecting me to them.
I shouldn’t kill them. At least not yet. They can help me get more blood.
The hunger stirs deep in my belly. I’m about to settle on another witch when I get a whiff of the most intoxicating scent I’ve ever smelled. I can’t focus on anything else. I need this one—the one that smells like the first snowflake drifting through the chill of the night. Cool. Sweet. Winter itself. And absolutely irresistible. Her blood alone would soothe the ache in my throat when all other blood fails. Hers and hers alone.
But she’s not here. Her scent feels distant.
I grin; she’s going to make me work for it.
Howls from my pack reach me as they run toward me. In my vampire form, it’s a little harder for me to understand theirmeaning, but their incessant howling drives the message home, despite my not wanting to listen to them.
Shift.
Change.
Stop feeding.
I shake my head. They don’t get to command me. I’m their alpha. I’m a vampire lord.
I lick the drop of witch’s blood from my bottom lip, feeling the ecstasy cascade through my body like the most addictive drug in the world. I can’t stop.
Those words settle into me—I. Can’t. Stop.
But their howls broke me free enough to have a moment of clarity. And I remember—the vampire curse. This is the curse’s doing. It’s already strengthened so much in me that I can’t stop drinking blood. I need it as much as I need air, and I don’t care who I take it from. I just need it.
Lumi—the love of my life. I’m losing myself to the vampire curse. And Ambrose’s curse ensures she’s my next target. She’ll be dead before the sun rises.
A wolf with deep brown fur approaches me. His red eyes sink into mine, as if he’s trying to read my mind. Trying to see how lost I am to my blood lust.