Dinner With a Vampire (The Dark Heroine #1)(66)
Author: Abigail Gibbs

‘Oh my gosh, a funhouse! We have to go in, come on,’ Lyla gushed, grabbing Cathy’s hand, snatching Fabian’s in the other (who did not shirk away), and dragging them both towards the booth. Cain rolled his eyes but followed, the other three boys not far behind.

We drew to a stop beside the counter where Lyla placed a handful of change.

They soon disappeared into the folds of the canvas entrance. Declan muttered something about not wanting to have to stick around to watch that, and Charlie was already hot in pursuit of Felix. I forced my face to remain expressionless and ducked in after him. I took a few steps in, cringing at the two-foot-high, six-foot-wide me staring back from a distorted mirror nearby. Cain didn’t appear. Peeking back through the entrance, I found he was not there and figured he must have taken the same attitude as Declan.

I saw no reflection of any of the other four and had almost reached a staircase, shunting up and down when I spotted Lyla. I froze when I realized her tongue was down Felix’s throat; Fabian was on his knees, planting kisses and bites down her exposed stomach. Next to them was Charlie, fangs sunk deep into Cathy’s neck, blood coating her hands as she ran her fingers through his hair. Soft moans escaped her mouth as a single trail of blood trickled down her shoulder, seeping into the material of her shirt where it feathered into veins and stained the pale fabric.

Disgusted and embarrassed I backed away, trying to get away without them noticing.

But Felix’s head snapped around, his eyes deep red. A small smile spread across his lips, revealing pink fangs.

‘Want to join in?’

I shook my head violently. ‘No thanks.’

Back-pedalling, I hit something hard. Thinking it was one of the mirrors, I sprang forward again only to freeze and find a smirk caught on my lips as the familiar self-assured and arrogant voice of a certain vampire sounded behind me.

‘Of course she doesn’t want to join in your little orgy, idiot.’

‘Chill out man, I was only asking,’ Felix retorted, wrapping his arm back around Lyla’s neck. I scowled as she giggled. Fabian never acknowledged my presence.

‘And f**k it, learn to share,’ Felix muttered, burying his mouth in Lyla’s neck. With a disgusted groan Kaspar turned away, pulling me with him as Lyla whimpered beneath the two men.

Kaspar said nothing, despite my curious glances as we walked side-by-side towards the exit. He pushed the folds of the tent aside and stepped out into the cold without even a shudder, his dark shirt unbuttoned at the top and sleeves rolled up.

‘I can tell you’re dying to say something, so spit it out, Girly.’

I scowled. ‘Where have you been?’

He looked sideways at me, lips parted and upturned, brow lowered; irritated. ‘Somewhere, Girly, but I’m not going to tell you where because I have my own life and I don’t have to answer the questions of some kid hostage.’

I stopped, affronted, staring at him. The lights glided over his alabaster skin, his eyes luminous in the neon air. I examined his hunched shoulders, watching as his hair flopped over one eye, his hands buried in deep in his pockets.

‘What’s wrong with you? You were actually verging on nice earlier.’

He shrugged his shoulders dismissively and I doubted he was even listening. Sighing with exasperation, I poked his arm and asked again.

He stopped and snagged my gaze. ‘Quit asking questions or I’ll get angry and bite you.’ His mouth flat-lined, but I could not help but laugh.

‘I’m scared: hollow threats are so intimidating!’

‘I’m serious.’

‘Sure you are, Kaspar.’ I punched him on the arm and then sped off, glancing back and shouting, ‘C’mon, I want to go on the waltzers!’

FORTY-ONE

Kaspar

She dived into the nearest waltzer, settling back into the fake leather. Reluctantly, I joined her, inching towards the warmth of her skin draped in her coat. The carriage spun as I stepped in, eyes stinging from the constant glare of the flashing lights humans seemed to love so much.

Yes, there was something wrong. Namely, the fact I knew I had just hours left of being able to touch her; to feel her glowing skin against mine, the feeling that I found myself craving with more intensity with every passing hour …

As I sat down beside her she began fumbling with the top button of her coat, a flush coming to her collar as a bead of sweat rolled down her neck. She was struggling, so turning away I reached over with one hand and unfastened the top two buttons, not exactly accidentally brushing against her now exposed chest. I felt her shiver below me, despite the fact that touching her skin was like pressing my hand to a hot stove. I sensed her face flaming, the blood rushing to her cheeks before she mumbled her thanks.

The sirens wailed and the floor rattled and began moving, our carriage beginning to spin. The bar that wrapped around the seats shook violently beneath my hand, and on impulse I wrapped an arm tightly around her slender shoulders. I half expected her to resist, but she didn’t. Instead, she inched closer, allowing me to draw her into my chest, her hands leaving the bar without question.

With her body pressed to mine I could feel the heat of her skin on my bare arms – a heat that was becoming almost familiar to me now. It was a different warmth from that of the humans that became my victims: their heat would fade as I sucked them dry. But as I drew her closer her warmth would only increase; as I touched her she would not turn blue but red as blush coloured her cheeks.

I made my mind up months ago that I would have her, take her, please her and use her for my will. I’m a man of my word. And her blood. Oh, her blood! It was sweet – not as sweet as that served at the balls – but I didn’t drink it for its taste. I drank from her because I craved her reaction. I wanted to hear her softly whimpering below me as I pierced her neck and veins; I wanted to see her blood trickling down her slight shoulders, seeping across her br**sts, tinting the scars that Ilta had forced on her, still struggling to heal. I took her blood because unlike any other creature I had ever hurt she never cried out, never screamed, even when I set out to maliciously cause her pain.

It was that stubbornness that had always intrigued me, her steadfast and unwavering belief in what she thought was moral and righteous …

He won’t physically stop me touching her. How could he stop us? Rip us apart?

A smile was spreading across her lips, which turned into a giggle as she wrapped her arms tightly around my middle, shrieking with laughter as the dizziness overtook her. It was infectious. I smiled too, despite my hate of the loud, beat-heavy music and flashing lights.