Wicked Kiss

My heart pounded faster and faster. My breath came so quickly I thought I might hyperventilate. A wash of darkness moved across my vision.

I let out a harsh cry and collapsed to my knees. The world spun—reminding me of the one time me and Carly did vodka shots before a house party to give ourselves courage, but ended up violently ill instead. But this was worse—much worse than that. I clawed at the pavement, breaking my already short nails.

“Samantha—” Bishop was at my side a moment later. There was a bloody gash on his forehead.

I moaned, then dragged in a ragged breath that hurt my throat. “No, don’t get close. Too close. Too much. So cold, Bishop. It’s so cold. Please...”

Kraven stood nearby. His face was bleeding, too. “You know what’s happening to her. You know what this means.”

“Be quiet,” he snarled.

“It’s time. Don’t wait to see what happens to her next—or how much she’ll suffer. Put her out of her misery now.” Instead of joy in the demon’s tone, there was dark certainty. He didn’t say this to be cruel. This was something they’d discussed before.

What to do when I finally went into stasis.

“I thought you actually gave a damn about her,” Bishop said tightly. “Guess I was wrong.”

Kraven shot him a look of disdain. “Suggesting a quick, clean death, rather than melting on the sidewalk? Rather than seeing her turn into a total sociopath? Yeah, you’re right. Guess I don’t give a damn.”

Bishop swore. “Go to the party. Find the others. Help them. Stop that angel any way you have to.”

“Wait. What about...I can kiss her again if it’ll help.”

“It won’t help. Not anymore.”

“But—”

“No. You’ll never kiss her again.”

Bishop picked me up in his arms as if I weighed nothing more than a feather and cradled me against his chest. Then he turned away from Kraven and began running down the street in the opposite direction. I could barely lift my head to see Kraven still standing there watching us get farther and farther away, a bleak look in his amber-colored eyes.

He knew the same thing I knew—whether I lived or died, this was the end for me.

Chapter 26

Kraven had put it perfectly. Tonight, I would either die and fade away, or I would go into a zombielike state. And if I survived, I would come out the other side totally evil.

A living nightmare.

I’d rather die than be like that.

This was happening too fast. It had been drawing closer and closer, but I’d really started to believe I was different. I’d believed the lies.

I wasn’t different. I was a gray. And I was terrified of what was to come next.

Bishop came to a townhome and kicked the front door. The lock splintered the frame as it swung open. It was all dark inside. Nobody was home. He carried me inside to the living room where he gently placed me down on the sofa.

I twisted. It wasn’t pain, really. But something bad was happening to me. The cold and hunger combined to make me numb as it burrowed into me—a caterpillar creating its cocoon. My vision went blurry and my skin turned to ice.

“What can I do?” Bishop asked harshly. “What can I do to help you? I need time to find Stephen. To get your soul back. It’s not too late.”

I just shook my head back and forth. It was too late. It was happening, and it was happening now. “Stephen said the only way to hold off stasis—would be to feed.”

“When did he tell you this?” His voice turned angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Whatever was inside me moved through my limbs to my fingers and toes, making everything numb and cold. “Doesn’t matter anymore. I wouldn’t do it, anyway. I won’t hurt anyone like that—not again—no matter what.”

“You should have told me anyway, Sam. Damn it.”

He never called me Sam. Always Samantha. More formal—even though I loved how he said my name. “But I can’t feed. I can’t—”

Then, suddenly, his mouth was on mine. I let out a cry of surprise. He kissed me hard and deep, gathering me in his arms so much that he raised me right up off the sofa.

This is what I’d dreamed about—Bishop’s lips on mine as he kissed me with total abandon.

But it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Feed,” he whispered. “Come on. Feed on me, Samantha.”

His heart beat fast against my own weakening pulse. I still sensed his soul, I still craved it more than anything else, but there was a wall there, muting it, closing off my access to it—even if I’d wanted to take it. My heart wrenched at the thought of hurting him. But if he’d done this before, I wouldn’t have had any choice. I would have lost control and destroyed him forever.

I had control now. But there was a very good reason.

No, scratch that. A very bad reason.

“It’s too late,” I whispered.

“No.” His voice caught and twisted. “I won’t accept that.”

“I’m dying.”

“No!” He got up and kicked the coffee table, sending it flying across the room and splintering into the wall. Then he fell to my side again, his expression agonized. “Take my soul. Take all of it. I don’t care. I can’t lose you.”

When he crushed his mouth against mine again and kissed me so hard and desperately, my lips felt bruised.

But nothing happened. It was a while before he finally relented.