Bloody Little Secrets

by Karly Kirkpatrick

  *

  I dozed for a bit before I was awoken by more footsteps. Bianca’s pink braids came into view and I was instantly on my feet, ready to pounce.

  “Steve told me to feed you. No need to be alarmed. It’s not like I’ll be killing your boyfriend any time soon.” She snorted. “You might want to warn the next one not to mess with a vampire.”

  I hissed, trapped behind the electric wall but wanting to reach through and tear her head straight off her body. I think I’d almost like to do it slowly, watch her suffer as her skin separated, muscles detached—until nothing was left but a bloody stump. See the look in her eyes as she saw the end of her life coming, just like Drake did. At least it would wipe that smirk off of her face. And little did she know that Drake could probably rip her head off all by himself now. I suppressed a smile at the thought.

  Bianca carried a few blood bags in her hand and flung open a door on the outside wall. She shoved the bags in and slammed it shut. “There’s a door on your side, genius. Open it and drink up. I hear I might be next in line for an upgrade, thanks to you and your fabulous blood. The Caribbean is nice this time of year, I might go lay on the beach.”

  I glared at her and ignored the door, although my senses were so very aware of what was behind it. It called to me, my veins springing to life. I swallowed the thirst, pushed it down as far as I could. I would not drink it if it meant that bitch would benefit. No dice.

  “Piss off.” I snarled at her and sat back down on the mattress.

  “Suit yourself, but if you don’t drink that, Steve will probably send some of us back down to force you to do it.”

  I whipped my most evil look in her direction.

  “Whatever, just sayin’. It’s your funeral—again.” She snickered and her voice trailed behind her as she sauntered down the hall.

  I stared at the electric bars. The only way I could get out of here is if they were turned off. Or if someone opened the door. But how could I get someone to open the door? That was the biggest question. If only the gerbils in my brain could run on that wheel a little faster.

  I glanced back at the door, the blood in the bags still in there, calling to me. That’s it! What was it Bianca said? I better drink it or they’d come back and force me. So let them come. Let them open those bars and see if I don’t get out. They’d have to be armed to the teeth this time. I would be ready. And I would take them all out, one by one.