Last Bitten (The Emerald Night Series)

by Ash, Lauren

  In shock, Mrs. Flynn fell back, fell to the hard, white, intolerant floor. She didn’t know what to say. It was a nightmare—a parent’s worst nightmare. They all stood in silence, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened.

  BEEP . . . BEEP . . .

  They all looked up at the vitals monitor. The reds, the blues, the greens emerged from left to right—proof life’s lines.

  BEEP . . . BEEP . . . BEEP . . . BEEP . . .

  “She has a rhythm,” the doctor yelled. “She has a rhythm.”

  The sounds picked up, and the medical team ran about the room not knowing exactly what to do—total chaos erupted.

  “She’s alive? She’s alive!” Mrs. Flynn cried out.

  “No—stop, don’t open the blinds.”

  “Why not? It’s beautiful out. You should see the view.”

  “Just don’t. Please.”

  “Very well, Nia. I’m reluctant to release you today,” said the tired Doc. His shift was hitting the thirty-six-hour mark, and he was beginning to think he’d imagined the night.

  “Why? I feel fine. Can’t I just go? Haven’t you all tortured me enough?” Nia said, surveying the young doctor. He looked awfully tasty. She felt a pang hunger and tried to push away the unusual new thoughts—this urge to bite, yank into flesh, and—

  “How about we at least wait till this evening? We need to run a few more tests,” he approached her bed and put a hand on her shoulder.

  His move—the intimacy—excited her, and she felt her heart racing. It boomed through her ears as she watched the pulse on his wrist bounding, thriving; his life force was strong—nubile. She could sense it. Nia leaned forward for a kiss.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, lulled by her sensual touch.

  She batted her long, black lashes catching his striking, brown eyes. “Do you want me?” she asked with an innocent smile.

  He closed his eyes. “Yes, I—”

  “Shhhhhh,” she hushed, kissing his wrist, licking his pulse lightly. An urge washed over her to take a bite, just one bite.

  Not yet.

  “I must, I must,” she argued.

  Wait, my Nia.

  Nia withdrew from the doctor’s tempting wrist. “I don’t want any more tests. I want to go home tonight. I must leave tonight.”

  “Okay,” the doctor agreed, under her spell. “You may go tonight. I will write the order.”

  “Yes, go write the orders. And tell my mother I want to see her. She’s out there, yes?”

  “Yes,” he answered like a robot.

  “Tell her to come in, as I’ve heard what happened.”

  “I will,” he said, unable to take his eyes off the white-skinned angel. She was all-consuming. “Anything else? Anything at all? Tell me . . .”

  “Go. I need my privacy.”

  He didn’t want to leave, but he did as he was told—the good little doctor.

  The door remained open, and Nia’s mother guiltily ambled in.

  “Mom.”

  “Nia.”

  Nia shook her head. “Mom, Mom. I didn’t know you were out for blood.” Nia watched the blood pumping through her mother’s aging body—a strong heart and a strong will this woman had.

  “I’m sorry. It was an accident. I heard something in the room. I was startled. I can’t express how sorry I really am. I love you. You’re my girl. I know I’ve been hard on you these past few months. I’ve been under a lot of stress with your father traveling, and money has been tight.”

  Nia sighed and reached out a hand to her mother. She took the warmth of her in.

  “You’re so cold, Nia. The doctor told me you want to go home later. I really think you should stay here. You didn’t see what happened last night. It was. . .” A single tear dropped down her fine-lined, heavily painted cheek.

  “I died. I know. I died. I saw Grandma.”

  “What?” Nia’s mom backed up, disbelieving.

  “Willy was there too—her cat. That cat was always fat.”

  “Why are you saying these things? Are you trying to hurt me?”

  “Of course not. I only tell the truth. You know I’ve never been a good liar.”

  A new, younger blonde nurse popped her head in the door. “You have a phone call; just press the red button there. Phone is on your table.”

  Nia glanced at her mother, who had backed up near the door. “You don’t have to stay. You can go. Really, I’ll be fine.

  The woman hesitated, then nodded and left, walking as if the weight of the universe was upon her shoulders.

  Nia picked up. “Yes.”

  “Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?” It was her Andy.

  Nia smiled now as she knew exactly what she wanted. “Yes. Come get me, Andy. Please. I need you.”

  “You do?” He sighed in relief.

  “Yes, Andy. You’re all I think about, though I’ve denied it all this time. I need you, Andy.”

  She heard him stumble over some furniture.

  “Tonight, Andy. I want you tonight.”

  He stuttered, unable to get a word out. “Uh . . . uh . . .”

  “You know it, Andy. You can feel it, can’t you?” She giggled slyly, but certain that they both knew what was about to dawn.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Come, Andy. Come.”

  Dropping his cell to the floor then retrieving it, Andy sputtered out an almost incomprehensible sentence. “I’m coming . . . uh, uh . . . there . . . I mean, soon. Tell me when.” His voice sounded frenzied.

  “Focus, Andy. I need you. Seven. Bring me something to wear.” she said. “When it’s dark. You know I like the dark. I’ve always enjoyed the dark.”

  “I do too,” he said, “and the stars in the sky. I love stars. I love—”

  She hung up on him, smiling and tapping her red nails.

  ***

  “Faster. Drive faster,” Nia demanded.

  “I’ll get a ticket. Campus police is always out,” Andy argued. .

  Nia touched him. “Do as I have asked. You must.”

  He pressed down on the pedal and glanced over at her, as if trying to figure out a great mystery. Surely I seem different to him, she thought. He must be wondering . . .

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, honestly concerned.

  Slipping her hand down onto his scrawny thigh, she answered slowly with intent. “I must say this: there is something wrong. You’re very observant. I’ve always known that about you.” She yanked her hand away and pulled down the old Civic’s vanity mirror. The holes on her neck were gone. She flipped it back up. “I’m not sure exactly. My memories of it all are blurry. I remember . . .” Nia paused, glancing up at the full, friendly moon. “As I told my own mother, I remember my grandmother. She said something to me. She said, ‘Stay in the light. Come with us. ’ She seemed happy at first, but then she was scared, like a terrible fear washed over her silken, wrinkly face. I’ve never seen her like that before.”

  “You’re grandmother visited you in the hospital?”

  “No. She’s dead.” Nia’s voice rang hollow like an empty grave.

  “You had a near-death experience. They come, you know. They come for you.”

  “Who?”

  “Your loved ones on the other side. I’ve heard stories in my own family. You know, tales, myths of sorts. It’s true.”

  “She lost.”

  “What do mean?” Andy parked now in the packed dorm lot and got out to open Nia’s door for her. They stepped out onto the dead, trodden leaves.

  “I’m here now with you,” she beamed taking his hand, not letting it go. The moonlight struck her face, and she almost glowed underneath its touch.

  Andy squinted under the brightness of her and squeezed her fingers. “You’re so cold Nia; let’s get some food in you.”

  “No, I want to go to your room. I want to lie down.” She raised one brow at him.

  He awkwardly smirked, turning away from her as if battling some interna
l conflict. “Okay,” he said locking his car drawing her along.

  They received many a peculiar look from their counterparts as they entered the dorm lobby and pressed the elevator button up. People actually turned to watch them enter the steel coffin.

  The doors dinged closed, and Nia leaned close into Andy, unzipping his black, dated jacket. He wore a white t-shirt underneath. She snuck a finger under it and ran it along his thin, soft stomach. “Oh, Andy,” she teased, moving down to undo the top button of his jeans.

  “Nia.” He leaned back against the woody elevator wall.

  Feeling at his firm alter-ego, he moaned under her grip. She rebuttoned his button as the elevator dinged open.

  Naughty Nia.

  “I know,” she admitted to the voice.

  “You know what?” Andy was going crazy now, absolutely crazy—she knew his mind was reeling; he was aching for more. “This way.” Now Nia pulled him along to their room. She kicked the door open and led him to his bed under the fake ceiling stars.

  Andy turned on the lights.

  “No. Lights off, Andy. On the bed now.”

  He did as ordered and laid back after removing his jacket.

  She flipped her red leather jacket, black tank, and black jeans to the floor, wearing just the red lacy bra and red thong that Andy had brought for her to wear. She slowly advanced and climbed the bed to straddle him, bumping up and down a little, cupping her breasts. He certainly was hopping friendly underneath her.

  Andy exhaled reeling in lust and what he thought was true love.

  The newly damned leaned down close now and ran her hands over his white T. “Off with this.” They both clumsily removed his shirt, tossing it on the cardboard alien. She ran a nail right down the center of his body and shifted down so she could unbutton his pants. “Off!” The jeans popped loose, and she teased his tight whites off the same way. “Oh my, Andy. I had no idea.”

  He smiled proudly and nodded for her to have some. Carefully slipping her mouth over the hot goodness—taking it all in so deep that Andy purred in a never-ending moan. It only took a couple strokes, a little lick, and Andy almost burst, but Nia left that stick alone and moved up to his neck.

  “Oh my God,” he said. “Oh my God.”

  “Oh my God,” she repeated, licking his wanton carotid.

  Just as he wanted to die, she wanted him to die too. The feeling was overwhelming, his blood pumped strong with every vessel glowing under his unsuspecting skin. Every blood cell dashed along a track to hell. Reveling in the feel of it, a thought flashed in Nia’s mind. She shot her head back up, as if the insatiable hunger dipped for just a second. This is Andy. He’s innocent. He’s done nothing to hurt me. She watched him there, trapped in her web.

  The voice interrupted: I did not make you one of us to turn you into that which you loathe—the normal, the weak. Now feed, my Nia, feed and enjoy.

  The voice rang true; the orders were made.

  Licking her teeth, Nia felt them lengthen and sharpen. She whipped her head back down and bit hard into Andy’s hot, salty flesh. The blood pumped into her mouth—the sweet iron washed down her throat and into her ravenous belly. Andy moaned in bliss, moaned in want. She knew what he was after and gave him his last wish, so she stroked his shaft as she sucked the red from his neck. As Andy popped his last pop of his lonely moribund life, Nia took his last drop of blood in her mouth and watched her first victim succumb to the black abyss, an eternal sleep.

  Reaching for his shirt, Nia wiped her mouth and her hands and stole away from his bed. “What have done?” She couldn’t take her eyes off the lifeless body. “What have I done? What have I become? What am I?”

  My Nia, you are me. I am you.

  “What? What is that exactly? What have you done to me? What have you made me?” Nia closed her eyes, backing away from the death bed.

  Come to me, my Nia.

  “No, I don’t want this.”

  You will come to me, my Nia.

  “No, get out of my head. Get out. Leave me alone. What have you done to me?” she quivered and turned to face the lonely moon. It loomed even brighter now, as if to welcome her to the night. Though she denied it, she felt better than she had ever felt before. The rush washed over her, welcomed her into a world she’d never seen before. She was alive. She was the night. They were one. She slipped to the floor and brought her knees up to her chest feeling this compulsion, an urge to crash out of that window and dance.

  “What have you done to me? I can’t feel like this. This is wrong,” whispering to herself and her maker. She stood suddenly and punched through the glass hard, watching it crash to the wet pavement below. The moon watched her as she leapt out into the darkness, feeling the air beneath, cold yet not. She fell fast—the pavement looming.

  Rise now, rise into the night, the voice guided.

  “I can’t, I can’t,” Nia cried.

  You can. Feel the air. Take it into you. Let it push you up. Meet me now. Come to me!

  “I can’t.” Nia ignored the sense to rise, to float, to sail away on black clouds under the diamond sky and see those emerald eyes that she longed for, to see him, her maker. “Johnny.” She hit the pavement.

  I deserve this pain. Nia lay face down on the wet sidewalk amidst the sharp, broken glass. Steps crackled towards her.

  “Are you satisfied with yourself?” the voice said, strong and stern.

  “Yes, just let me lie here, whoever you are.”

  “No. You’re going to get up before you F this whole thing all up.”

  “I can’t move. I don’t feel so hot,” said Nia, grimacing under the many levels of pain. “I thought we types didn’t experience pain.”

  “We do, it just doesn’t last as long as human pain. Come on now. Let me give you a hand.”

  “No.”

  “So be it.” The man lifted her anyway.

  Nia kept her eyes shut, didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know what was going to happen next. All she knew is that the man was big—firm like he could toss a thousand pounds with one arm, picking her up like it was nothing.

  “Little girl, you’re trouble. I told him that. I knew it when I saw you standing there, looking guilty as all hell.”

  She squeaked an eye open. “Mr. Clean.”

  “Don’t call me that. I do clean, especially after the likes of you, but my name is Bruce. No more wisecracks either. I’ll dump you back there again, and you can answer for what you’ve done. They’ll lock you in a jail cell and leave you for the sun—ashes to ashes, my dear.”

  “I’m not your dear. I’m no man’s dear.”

  “Oh you are now. You’re marked prime beef, hun.”

  “No hun’n me either. I won’t call you after swank housewife products and you leave your pet names for some other dumb broad.”

  “Feisty, you are. He likes feisty—always did. I don’t know why he bothers.”

  “What? This is something he does? Am I a toy? He’ll turn me into a blood-sucking . . . and then what? . . . he plays with me a while and dumps me off somewhere?”

  “No, not you.”

  Nia cocked her head in curiosity finally opening her eyes all the way, just as Bruce shoved her in the backseat of a silver Hummer, black leather interior.”I don’t get to ride in the front with you?”

  “No.” He got in the driver’s seat and roared up the engine.

  Buckling up—realizing it didn’t matter a hoot—Nia arranged herself so she could stare at Mr. Clean’s shiny head. The intent was to somehow burn a hole through the back of his skull, but she guessed her newfound powers didn’t cover that. Instead, something shiny caught her eye. It was a silver-wrapped parcel right beside the big brut—I mean, Bruce.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “It’s for you,” said Bruce, handing her the small, heavy bundle.

  Cautiously peeling it open, Nia discovered it was a ring box; the case was sterling, old, and slightly tarnished, engraved in some words that were in a
n unfamiliar language. Her heart skipped a beat as the excitement rose—never received a ring before from anyone. She clicked it open and inside was a large emerald, cut into the shape of a heart and surrounded by petite pave diamonds. The setting was platinum.

  “Ah!” Nia quietly exclaimed. “What’s this? Is this really for me?”

  “Yes. Put it on your ring finger, left hand.”

  “I can’t put it there. I’m not married.”

  “Um . . .” Bruce clicked his tongue.

  “How? How can I be married? We never exchanged vows. I never said yes. Johnny never asked me anything.”

  “You followed him back in the club. You accepted his offer. You said yes when he asked you for forever.”

  “I did not. He tricked me. He lured me and used me, and then he bit me.” Nia examined the translucent emerald. It had an inner glow, an inner fire that seemed to dance as the moonlight played upon it.

  “You are his virgin bride. I am to deliver you, but cleaned up you must be first, and a gown is in order.”

  “What?”

  “The official ceremony is being arranged as we speak. We don’t have much time. There are many waiting for us, but you had to feed first. And look at you. You’re a mess. I don’t know if your cuts will heal beforehand.” Bruce studied Nia; she had one long, thin cut across her chin, a scrape on her right cheek and dead center on her forehead.

  “And what about Andy—you just leave him there? Everyone in the dorm will know by now that I was with him and all my stuff is in there. The cops will be after me sooner or later. First my roommate in the hospital—detectives already came around about it. I’m so screwed. They suspect me—that I knifed my best friend. I mean I barely knew her, but still.”

  “All that being said, it’s being taken care of. Andy knew too much about you anyway. He had to go.”

  “What? What do you mean? How do you know all this? Is this whole thing a setup?”

  Bruce kept his eye on the road.

  “Answer me right now. I can’t believe this.” Nia held up the ring so Bruce could see it in the rearview. “Answer me now or I toss this out the window, this BIG ring, I’ll toss it.”