Better Off Dead : A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer Novel (Book One)
Page 50
Chapter 16
FROM THE SHADOWS of the night, Delia had watched the two on the porch. She had been such a fool, to believe Gabriel’s word over her own common sense and intuition. She’d known the instant the girl had stumbled into that filthy little alley behind the Refectory. She could see passion and the glow of love plainly on her face. But that hadn’t been what had set her off—that alone, the pathetic attentions of a silly human girl, wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference to her.
What had made the difference had been the smell. Even through the stench of the garbage and rot of the alley, the scent he’d left on her flowed through the rancid air to Delia, and the meaning of it shot straight through her nervous system and mind, and cracked her heart.
Gabriel’s scent was all over the girl. And worse, she smelled lust and longing in that trace of him. He wanted her. He wanted her enough that she stunk of it.
Now that didn’t mean love. Delia knew that it didn’t. But what it did mean was that his body wanted to cheat on her. And added to the obvious amorous intentions of the girl, Delia had snapped. She’d wanted the girl dead—not scared, not whimpering for her life, but dead.
But Gabriel and her stupid brother, Vin, had interfered. Gabriel had fought for the girl, and Delia had been more than hurt over that fact. She’d been devastated. And no matter how much he swore that he did not love the girl, she could indeed see it in his eyes. It wasn’t just lust, for that scent had waned during their battle in the alley. But he could not hide the truth that blazed from his very soul. He was now in love with another.
And as Delia searched his eyes, finding this new horrific truth there, she also saw another truth. Though there was still love in his eyes for her—and maybe he was still in love with her—there was pity too. And that pity had sealed it for her.
She’d trusted her heart to a filthy, stinking werewolf, but no longer.
She lied when she told him she believed him. She lied when she told him she trusted him. After all, he’d made every lame excuse imaginable not to lay with her that night. How stupid did he think she was?
So she’d kept to the shadows, following him, unable to trust herself to not kill the girl if she just stalked her. And then the two had wandered out onto the porch, their want and need for each other as thick and obvious in the night air as their adoration of each other was to the eye. And all that she’d gleaned before the kiss against the porch railing.
Delia heard thunder pounding in the background—a storm, or avalanche, some natural disaster. But she could hear their breathing rise and quicken, even their hearts pounded loud enough that she knew their pulses were nearly in sync.
Delia had wanted vengeance. She’d wanted to attack Gabriel right then and there. How dare the dog think he could do this to her! She was a warrior, second in power only to her father, and this mangy mongrel thought he could hurt her like this. To choose a mere mortal over her.
A single hot tear escaped from her left eye. Delia snapped closed her eyes and clenched her jaw shut, pushing back the emotion that threatened to turn her into a sniveling, crying wreck. No, she was a warrior, weeping wouldn’t change things, and would not make her feel better.
Yet vengeance against her enemies would.
She pondered following Gabriel, and then pushing a tree down in his path. When he got out of the car she would take him, hard and fast… well, maybe she would torture him—get some real satisfaction from his death.
Unfortunately, the mere thought of killing Gabriel sent a cold, bitter chill through her entire being. She knew there and then that she couldn’t just kill him. She loved her wolf. But she did want to hurt him.
Physically? Or just psychologically? Maybe break his heart as he had broken hers.
Now that sounded promising.
And how better to break a heart than to kill what it loved? The thought of ripping the girl’s throat out, or better, her heart… oh yes! That was a lovely thought. Rip out Lucy Hart’s heart, watch her life drain from her face, lapping up her fear like a river of blood, later gifting that heart to her unfaithful love. Maybe she’d gift wrap the little piece of meat—a box with metallic red wrapping paper, and blood red ribbons and a bow.
Delicious.
But not enough… no, his betrayal was far worse than killing that stupid human could pay for. She wanted him to know, for the rest of his inadequate life, that his heart’s desire was just out of his reach.
Yes! If he would not be hers, and she had to live with that fact as evidence, then Delia would make sure Gabriel shared the exact same lifelong agony. Her plan formed in her mind, as glittering and cool as the night that enveloped her. Yes, so easy. But the girl wasn’t just a human. She’d been immune to Delia’s mind control—something she hadn’t encountered in a human before. And, infuriatingly, she’d demonstrated influence over Delia’s body, holding her back from killing her outright. Though it had visibly drained the girl to pull off such a trick, Delia would need to be careful, sneaky. Not only capturing her, but in keeping her captive.
Turning a human took time… an entire night and day, to be exact. She needed privacy and safety—somewhere safe from Gabriel, her meddling brother, and where the girl’s power over her would be quelled.
Delia closed her eyes as the lights of the Hart girl’s home flickered off, delight flowing through her veins as she saw in her mind’s eye where she would take her. She knew just the place.
“Tomorrow night, you little bitch…” Delia whispered into the wind, her nails cutting into the flesh of her palms, making them bleed. “You will rise vampire. And Gabriel will never be able to make you his bride.”