Blood Vice

by Angela Roquet

  “You’re a vampire, Jenna,” he said through gritted teeth. His patience was reaching a breaking point. I could tell from the strained ire in his voice. “Jump, or I will throw you off this building myself.”

  “You should be a motivational speaker, you know that? I think you missed your calling.”

  “Jump, damn it!”

  I swallowed and bent my knees, willing them to steady long enough to do me some good. Then I pushed off the railing with all the force I could muster. As my chest connected with the side of the building, the air whooshed out of my lungs. My palms burned where the edge of the roof bit into my skin, but even as my fingers strained and my shoulders cramped, relief sent a ripple of laughter through me. It came out as a wheeze, seeing as how I didn’t have much air to work with. But I didn’t care. I’d made it. Sort of.

  “Now pull yourself the rest of the way up.”

  “Give me a minute.” I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

  Roman sighed impatiently. I felt his hot breath graze my lower back.

  “Hey, I’m brand new at this vampire thing. Remember? You don’t have to be such an asshole about it.”

  He grabbed the back of my knee with one hand and shoved me the rest of the way over the lip of the roof. I landed on my face and chest with an undignified oomph. Weren’t vampires supposed to be graceful creatures? Was that a myth, too? How much was I missing out on by not having a sire to lead the way?

  Roman’s shoulders flexed beneath the spandex material of his shirt as he pulled himself up using the edge of the building. He was as silent and limber as a gymnast. He drew a knee up to his chest and slid his boot onto the roof, using his muscled thigh to finish the job. Not a drop of sweat touched his brow. I guessed he could do this all night if he had to. I, on the other hand, was still heaving miserably from my attempt that had needed intervention.

  “Is that a half-sired super power or something?” I asked, eyeing him up and down.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The ability to make impossible shit look so easy. Where do I sign up for that class?”

  Roman’s mouth curled up in a subtle smirk. It was the most amused I’d seen him. And then his blank expression was back in place. What was it about this House Lilith that sucked all the joy out of their minions?

  “Try not to breathe so loudly,” he said as he stepped over me on his way to the front of the building. “These wolves can hear everything. We can’t risk scaring them off.”

  “You want me to breathe quietly?” I huffed and sat upright, dusting myself off. “I guess that means no more vampire trivia questions.”

  Roman didn’t say anything, which was answer enough.

  I stood and patted myself down, making sure I hadn’t sustained any overlooked injuries. Then I joined him at the other end of the roof, prepared for a fun-filled evening of gargoyle impersonations and shallow breathing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Around one in the morning, long after agonizing leg cramps and half a dozen dirty looks from Roman for simply breathing, we finally saw some action on the street below. At first, I thought it was just the liquor store, drawing in the cheap drunks who wanted to beat the last-call crowd. When one of them wandered across the street and around to the side entrance of the pawnshop, Roman pulled out his cell phone.

  I opened my mouth to ask if he was able to get a good look with just the dim streetlights, but he silenced me with a lethal glare. I blushed, remembering werewolves had super hearing. Roman touched a few things on his phone, and I watched over his shoulder as the less than stealthy customer popped up on his screen.

  The guy was portly and unkempt. From this angle, I had a perfect view of his thinning hair, fashioned into a greasy comb-over that wasn’t fooling anyone. His leather jacket looked familiar. I tried to recall the etched logo I’d seen on the back of Arnie’s jacket at the warehouse. Roman was likely to know if there was any connection, but from the sharp set of his jaw, I was too afraid he’d skin me alive if I asked.

  The screen of his phone zoomed in, and he snapped a few more pictures. I could see the faint outline of a man’s face reflected in the glass of the outer door that opened into the alley. Roman’s camera was amazing. I guessed it was another fancy perk of his job, like the SUV’s exclusive police package.

  A gray van was parked at the end of the alley that ran behind the pawnshop, and another man hobbled out of the driver’s seat and joined the two at the door. His ratty denim vest held the same logo as the leather jacket. Mustache.

  It was him, all right, though his arm showed no trace of the bullet I’d tagged him with. The skin was perfectly smooth, save for a tangle of grizzly body hair.

  The man just inside the door stepped into the ally to take Mustache’s hand in some brotherly half-shake, half-hug gesture. When he turned around, I almost expected to find Arnie. But that wouldn’t make sense for the werewolf to incriminate a business he was affiliated with. It was more likely that he had repeated the information he’d shared with House Lilith to his fellow wolf, and Mustache had dropped the hot tip.

  The man from the pawnshop ducked back inside and reappeared with a scrawny girl. Smeared makeup stained her face as if she’d mostly cried it off, and bloody knees pressed through torn fishnets. Pawn Shop gripped her elbow, dragging her about like a ragdoll, and shoved her at Mustache. She tried to dodge the other man’s open arms, but he stuck his leg out.

  Her heels clattered on the pavement as she tripped and fell. It looked as if it took all her effort just to sit upright. Even a rookie cop could have easily tied her symptoms to heroin. Her eyes swam in their sockets, heavy lids falling over them as she struggled to stand.

  Mustache, Pawn Shop, and Comb-Over laughed as she stumbled and fell again. And then Pawn Shop dragged another girl out of the building. She didn’t look any better than the first had, with a tangled nest of blond hair and bruises covering half her jaw.

  “This is the last of them,” Pawn Shop said, loud enough that his voice echoed down the alley.

  “Are you getting all this?” I whispered breathlessly in Roman’s ear. If he didn’t call for backup soon, I was going to piss myself. My vision was already turning red. I couldn’t even imagine what was going through Mandy’s mind right now.

  As soon as the thought struck me, I saw her. Flying down the alley like a loose cannon.

  “Damn it,” Roman hissed.

  The three men seemed to hear him before they saw Mandy. Their heads jerked up, but she was already airborne. She landed on Mustache’s chest, pushing his back to the ground. The noise she made was unlike anything I’d heard before. Even from the safety of the roof, I flinched at the sound. Her jaws snapped in Mustache’s face as he tried to push her away.

  “We have to do something.” I stood and glanced over the edge of the building. We were three stories up, and the only thing waiting to break my fall was a canvas awning that had seen better days.

  Roman grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the ledge. His phone was pressed to his ear, but he tucked it against his chest and bared his teeth at me. “We’re waiting for backup.”

  Below in the alley, Mandy yipped. The sound cut off abruptly, and my breath hitched as I turned to see what I’d missed.

  The dark-furred wolf was gone, and Mandy’s naked human body lay motionless in the middle of the alley. Maggie’s green vest was still strapped around her waist, the fletching of a tranquilizer dart sticking out of the fabric.

  I let Roman drag me down behind the cover of the roof’s ledge while my blood vision pulsed helplessly. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I thought I would have a better idea of what to do in this situation than when Will and I’d searched the warehouse. I was a vampire now. And I knew what those monsters in the alley were, too. Didn’t that mean I was prepared? Why was I still hesitating?

  Roman slapped my cheek—softly—trying to get my attention. “Backup is on the way,” he whispered. He tucked his phone into the pocket of his pants and peeked over
the roof’s ledge. I heard the van’s engine come to life and twisted around to see what was happening.

  Comb-Over was ushering one of the girls inside the back of the van. He climbed in after her, rocking the vehicle until the thing squeaked and groaned. I couldn’t see Mandy in the alley anymore, but I guessed she’d been stuffed in along with the others. Pawn Shop stuck his head out of the front passenger window and slapped his hand on the door.

  “Let’s go,” he growled.

  Comb-Over slammed the side door closed, and the van made a clunking noise as Mustache put it into drive. As it began to roll down the alley, I panicked.

  “No, no, no,” I chanted, standing up taller despite Roman clinging to my arm in an attempt to drag me down and out of sight.

  I wrenched free of him, and against everything that made good sense—including my healthy fear of heights—I sat on the ledge, threw my legs over, and dropped off the roof. Roman gasped.

  “Jenna!” He bent over the edge and reached after me.

  I turned and slapped at the face of the building, grasping for something to help slow my fall. My foot caught on the lip of a windowsill, and my knee bent in the wrong direction at the impact. I arched away from the building for fear my face would be next. And then the canvas awning caught me. Mostly.

  The metal skeleton that gave it its bowed shape snapped against my hips, my spine, the back of my skull. They folded under me like a tent frame, the rotted canvas ripping until a wide hole had formed. I clung to the failing structure as my legs slipped through the gaping canvas.

  The concrete steps outside the apartment’s front door assailed me next. I rolled down them, catching every jagged edge along the way, wrapped in the remnants of the awning.

  I lay there a moment, marveling at the fact that I was still alive, and then wrestled my way out of the wreckage. I could hear the van’s engine grumbling in the distance. They were stopped at a traffic light. If it hadn’t been for the semi lumbering through the intersection, I was sure they’d have run it.

  I took off down the sidewalk, lighting up every scratch and bruise I’d earned from my fall. My right hip was on fire, and a sharp pinch in my side told me I’d likely broken a rib. Maybe two. And something had definitely torn in my knee. I ground my teeth and ignored the pain.

  Mandy was in trouble, along with two other girls who had been swallowed alive by the Scarlett Inn. Fuck House Lilith, and fuck Roman. By the time backup arrived, that van would be long gone. I couldn’t let that happen.

  The light turned green before I caught up, and the van began to pull away. My lungs swelled painfully as I tried to suck in more air, and my sneakers slapped the pavement with determination. Before the van had crossed the intersection, I reached the corner.

  I darted into the street and latched on to the open passenger window. Pawn Shop squealed as my fingers dug into the sides of his throat. I stepped up onto the running board and dipped inside the van, hissing at Mustache in the driver’s seat.

  “The hell?” he shouted, swerving into oncoming traffic. A passing car blasted its horn, and he stomped on the brakes, jarring my hip into the side-view mirror. I grunted and slammed Pawn Shop’s head back into the headrest of his seat. I hissed again, baring my extended fangs. It felt like a natural response, but my police training was still urging me to follow protocol.

  I held on to the man’s throat and released the door long enough to stuff my hand under my hoodie. The Glock would have been more intimidating, but the Browning was within easy reach at the awkward angle. I withdrew it from my waistband and pointed it at Mustache’s face.

  “Keys out of the ignition!” I demanded. For a second, he looked like he might obey. But then he floored the gas pedal.

  Pawn Shop grabbed my wrist and shoved my hand into the ceiling of the van. He repeated the motion until my wrist went numb and the Browning fell to the floorboard. I balled my fist and socked him in the face. Blood sprayed from his nose.

  A gun fired from somewhere outside, and I glanced back to find Roman standing in the middle of the street, pointing a pistol in the van’s direction. What the hell was he thinking? There were innocent girls in here. Not to mention me.

  The distraction gave Pawn Shop enough time to reach the door handle without me noticing. He twisted in his seat, howling as my nails scored his throat, and pulled the lever, kicking the door—with me attached to it—wide open.

  My spine bounced off the bumper of a parked truck, and I screamed. The van door began to close, but Pawn Shop gave it another sharp kick as Mustache swerved toward the sidewalk. The light pole was my undoing.

  The van door crunched, along with half the bones in my body, and we were both severed from the van. To add insult to injury, I landed on my back, the heavy door smashing me like a bug against the sidewalk.

  I could hear the bastards howling their victory as the van’s engine reverberated in the distance. Tears stung my eyes and face, leaking into the wealth of cuts I’d collected. I sobbed and choked on my own blood as it bubbled up my throat. I didn’t think it possible, but this was definitely a worse death than being bitten in a warehouse basement.

  Boots against pavement grew louder, and then the van door disappeared. Roman panted as he loomed over me. I hurt too much to care about his disapproving scowl.

  “Damn it, Jenna.” He gasped and then picked up my broken body off the sidewalk. My head lolled against his chest, my lips leaving a bloody kiss that spilled down the front of his shirt. “Hold on,” he said, taking off at a sprint toward the lot where he’d parked the SUV.

  It was less than a mile, but it felt like a marathon. I wasn’t even the one running, but it was my bleeding flesh being bounced about. Roman’s body temperature grew unbearably hot. It penetrated his clothes and mine, making me wonder if the sun had risen without me noticing. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea right now. Anything to stop the pain saturating my body and mind.

  I’d failed Mandy. That made two partners in a row. Maybe it was time to face the fact that I wasn’t cut out for this. Could I do that, though? Could I discard ten years of trying to live up to my mother’s image? If I died in Roman’s arms right now, I wouldn’t have to make that decision. Maybe it was for the best. I thought of Laura, and my heart broke again.

  Roman came to a stop in front of the SUV. His shoulder dug into my ribcage as he hefted me over one arm so he could open the passenger door. My blood gushed down his shirt, sparkling under the streetlight. I felt it weave a path through my fingers where my hand lay motionless against his back. I couldn’t move my limbs. They’d given up on me.

  Roman cupped the back of my head as he tucked me inside the SUV. He quickly closed the door and rushed around to the driver’s side. Once inside with me, he shoved the center console up and out of his way. Without the support, I slumped sideways in the seat. Roman wedged his arm under mine and across my back.

  “You have to feed,” he said, dragging my head and shoulders into his lap. “You’re a sireless vampling. You’ll die if you don’t.”

  Sure, now he wanted to share the fun facts.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Roman’s wrist pressed down on my teeth, forcing my mouth open. My lips rubbed against my canines first, but I barely registered the pain. What was it compared to the meat falling off my bones? I was turning to ice. My shivering stopped.

  Roman rolled his hand back and forth until my canines found purchase and broke the skin. A trickle of hot blood curled around my tongue. I didn’t have the strength to urge it toward the back of my throat. He kept rubbing his wrist against my teeth, like a block of cheese against a grater. And then I found a vein.

  My mouth filled, and I couldn’t swallow fast enough. I gasped and choked on Roman’s blood as it rushed down my throat like liquid fire. My hands grasped his arm, and I pulled him closer to me, groaning with pleasure and pain as my body thawed and knit itself back together.

  Bones and tendons made sucking noises as they found their severed ends. Skin tighte
ned as it grew over deep cuts. The phantom ache of wounds not quite healed throbbed once, twice, and then dissipated. I felt like one of those fast-forwarded nature videos that revealed a whole year of seasons in a matter of seconds.

  My insides ignited. Every part of me that could want for anything cried out for salvation. And once those prayers had been answered, a new wave of yearning assaulted me. I suckled at Roman’s wrist, the taste of him conjuring the most blissful and terrifying moments of my life. The day Mom brought Maggie home. Getting lost at the circus with Laura. Kissing Michael Holman on a swing at the park. Will showing up at the house to tell Laura and me that Mom was dead. Being promoted to detective. Dying in Raphael’s arms. And now, being reborn in Roman’s.

  Roman sucked in a shaky breath and looked down at me, his icy eyes glowing in the dark of the SUV. His face was twisted with torment, and I wondered if he was feeling the tsunami of emotions flooding my mind every bit as much as his blood was flooding my body. I wondered if he could feel the building pressure deep in my gut, the squirming desire I had to straddle him and chase away the terror with more bliss.

  This was no timid taste test like I’d had with Vin. I wasn’t pacifying a nagging hunger in my gut. I was evading true death. This was messy, unfiltered need. This was everything. Tears filled my eyes from the beauty of it, and I moaned against Roman’s skin, my back arching over his legs.

  My desire peeked, and then I was out of my head, lost in his blood and crystal blue eyes. I didn’t come back down until Roman’s hand stroked my face, pushing my hair back so he could look down at me with guarded eyes. The bridled want in them reminded me that he was well practiced at this.

  “Enough,” he whispered.

  That single word broke the spell of his blood and destroyed me. My teeth retracted with a sharp snap, and I pushed his arm away before scrambling across the seat and pressing my back against the passenger window. My chest heaved beneath the ragged remains of my blood-soaked hoodie.