First Bitten (7 page)

“
Try what?”

“
Your sense of smell. Inhale and tell me what you get.”

I give him a look.

“
Just humour me,” he pushes.

So I do. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in through my nose.

I can smell his aftershave again. I focus harder, trying to smell more, then suddenly it hits me and I can smell everything on him just as clearly as if he were sat here on the bed pressed up against me. I can smell the natural earthy smell of him, his aftershave – cedar wood and ginger, the water on his skin from his recent shower, the subtle scent of the soap he washed with. I can even smell the remnant trace of the foam he used to shave with. He shaved. I hadn’t noticed.

I open my eyes to find his already on me. I let my eyes drift down to his smooth chin. “Stubble suits you better,” I say without thinking.

His eyes flicker surprise. He rubs his hand across his chin.

“
I could smell the shaving foam on you,” I add, a flush rising up my neck.

“
What else?” His eyes hold mine with a surprising amount of depth.

“
Cedar wood and ginger from your aftershave, water and soap.”

“
Try again,” he urges. “Reach your senses out further.”

I do as I'm told.

Inhaling past his scent, I let my senses roam further. Then I catch the distinct smell of manure, fresh cut grass, and rapeseed. Rapeseed. The smell reminds me of home and I start to ache inside for all things familiar.

“
What else you getting?” he asks. His deep voice soothes over my skin almost intimately, taking the aches away.

“
Cut grass,” I utter. “Manure and the scent of rapeseed as clear as if I’m standing in the field with it.” I’m desperately trying not to think how off the charts this actually is.

Slowly I open my eyes back up. I find Nathan’s eyes still fixed on me. I swallow down, nervously.

“
It’ll probably all be a bit overwhelming for you at first,” he says, “but you’ll soon get used to it.”

That’s it? Gee, thanks for the lesson, Nathan.

Suddenly feeling the need for fresh air, I rest the flask down on the bed, clamber off and, go over to the window and open it up wide. It lets in a welcoming blast of cool night air. But the second it’s open, all I can hear is the sound’s of owls hooting, crickets chirping, mice squeaking, even insects scuttering around the ground. I guess my hearing’s kicked in too. Wonderful. The sound’s are like ticks in my ears. I slam the window back shut, frustrated, and rest my forehead up it.

“
Am I still in Hackness?” I ask, my tone grumpy, my breath fogging up the glass.

“
No. You’re in Wykeham. It’s only about ten miles away from … ”

“
I know where Wykeham is,” I cut him off shortly.

An unexpected thought pops into my mind. I turn around and lean up against the window ledge. “What were you doing out in the woods the night you saved me?”

“
I was out running,” he responds without hesitation, his expression instantly blank.

His answer’s too quick. He’s hiding something.

“
Pretty late to be out running,” I observe.

“
I like the night.”

“
Why Hackness woods?”

“
Why not?”

“
Surely there are places around here to go running?”

“
There is,” he answers unblinking, “but I like Hackness, its quiet.”

That’s bullshit if ever I’ve heard it; everywhere in this region is quiet.

I keep my steady eyes on him as I curl my fingers around the edge of the window ledge. “How do you know all this stuff about Vârcolacs again?” I hedge my bets.

“
I never told you the first time.” His smile is all fox. “Drink the blood and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” He nods in the direction of the flask on the bed.

I give him a long look and walk over and pick the flask up off the bed. I take it back over to the window with me and rest up against the ledge again. My fingertips edge around the cool metal. I look down at it. There’s blood inside here. Pig’s blood. And I’m going to attempt to drink it. Yes, I know just how insane this is.

With a resigned sigh, I pull the outside cap off the flask and place it down on the window ledge. Then I take a deep breath and very slowly unscrew the lid. At the exact moment of release, the smell floods my nostrils. Sweet and sickly, like honey, it swims into my mind and body, coating my insides.

A sudden, new and unexplainable hunger consumes me. Saliva floods my mouth. I feel an ache there too and another ache deep within me, a need – no, a want - from a part of me I didn’t even know existed. My heart’s beating faster, my pulse is quickening. My veins feel like they’re pressing up against the thin veil of my skin. Every orifice of me is crying out for this and then suddenly nothing else matters. I’m consumed. I’m moving the flask toward my mouth. The cool silver touches my lips. My tongue tingles in anticipation. I tilt the flask upwards but it clangs awkwardly against my teeth. Confused, I put a finger up to my mouth. My finger catches on my tooth, my incisor. It’s longer. It feels sharp. I touch the other one. It’s the same. Oh God, are they ... fangs?

Panicked, I look over at Nathan. “Have I got fangs?” I can’t say the words without feeling sick. Oh God, they’re catching on my lip as I speak. I cover my mouth up with my hand.

He nods. “It’s a natural reaction for you when you’re around blood,” he says mildly.

I feel anything but mild.

“
I can’t do this,” I blurt out, panicked. I hold the flask out away from me like it’s a bomb that’s about to go off any second.

Nathan comes over to me. “Yes, you can.” He holds my eyes as he pushes the flask back toward me. “You have to.”

I look from his face to the flask, and back up at him again.

“
The fangs will retract once you’ve fed.” He gives me a firm look of encouragement.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

Okay. Count of three. One ... two ... three.
I pinch my nose and throw back the contents.

It tastes exactly as it smells, sweet. And I feel good. Eased. Better than I’ve felt in a long time. It’s kind of like foregoing the sex and just heading straight for the orgasm.

But now it’s done and the lust has gone, and I’m just left feeling dirty.

Then realisation hits. I start gagging. I thrust the flask into Nathan’s hand. Pushing past him, I head straight for the bin. Leaning over it, gripping the edge of the desk for support, I start retching. I retch until my throat starts to burn but nothing comes up. It’s almost as if my body doesn’t want to part with the blood. And that thought only manages to make me feel worse.

“
You okay?” Nathan places a glass of water on the desk beside me. I didn’t even realise he’d left the room.

I nod and wipe my hand over my mouth. Nathan’s right, the fangs have retracted. I didn’t even feel them go. Too busy trying to throw up, I guess.

I pick the glass of water up, rest wearily against the desk and drink it down in one go.

“
Why don’t you get a shower, clean yourself up,” Nathan suggests, gesturing to the chest of drawers over to the right of him.

I see sitting on top of the drawers a towel, wash bag and some clothes, which oddly I’m only just noticing for the first time. I wonder when he put those there.

I nod my agreement. “Where’s the bathroom?” I ask.

“
Door straight across the hall.” He jerks his head in the appropriate direction. “Come downstairs when you’re done.”

Nathan turns to leave and lifts his arm, rubbing the back of his neck, and that’s when I see the lump in the back waist band of his jeans. My eyes close in on it, and don’t ask how I know, but I just instantly know what it is.

Fear clouds my judgement and I can’t hold my tongue even if I wanted too. “That meant for me?” There’s a clear edge to my voice.

Nathan pauses and turns half back, glancing across at me. He reaches behind him and pulls the gun out of his jeans, holding it up in front of him.

My body goes rigid with nerves.

“
I didn’t know how you were gonna be when you woke up,” he says in an even tone. “I didn’t know how you would react to the blood when I gave it to you. So, yeah, it was meant for you.” He lowers the black shiny gun. “But only if you made it the case.”

The temperature in the room suddenly chills and the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end. He fixes his eyes to mine, pinning me to the spot. There’s a darkness there that sends a shiver hurtling down my spine. “And I’ll use it in the future without a second thought if you ever force me to.” He tucks the gun back in the waistband of his jeans and, without another word, disappears out the room.

I exhale, realising I’ve been holding my breath the entire time. My whole body starts to tremble.

Collecting myself, I slowly walk over to the chest of drawers on unsteady legs. I see there is a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a T-shirt. The T-shirt is white with a picture of a black bow on the front. There’s also a pair of Converse trainers. I never wear trainers. And there’s also a matching white bra and knicker set. All of this stuff is new. It still has the tags on. Nathan has bought me underwear. I don’t know how I feel about that. I check the size on the bra – 32D. My size. How did he know exactly what size bra to get me? Then I know exactly how I feel about it as a deep eerie shudder runs through me.

I gather all the clothes up, leaving the trainers behind, grab the wash bag and head straight for the bathroom.

It’s not until I’m safely locked in the bathroom when I realise Nathan never answered my question about how he knows about Vârcolacs. I feel a flash of annoyance.

Come on Alex, it’s not like you’re going to go downstairs chasing after him demanding answers, is it, especially not when he’s carrying around a gun with your name on it. Fine, I’ll just wait until I’ve had my shower, and then I’ll ask him, if I dare.

To be honest, I really could do with a shower. It’s apparently been days since I last had one and I’m starting to smell like a builder’s armpit. And I need to brush my teeth, and my tongue. Well basically scrub clean the whole inside of my mouth.

I locate the light switch and turn it on. Seeing the window is open, I cross the bathroom, the tiles cold and unwelcoming beneath my bare feet, and close it.

Dropping my stuff onto the floor, I look around the bathroom. It’s generic: a white toilet, sink and bath, with a shower over it. The tiles on the floor are black. The walls are painted a light green. There’s a white shower curtain hanging over the railing and a green bath mat hung over the side of the bath. There are a couple of different bottles of men’s shower gels and shampoos sitting on the corner of the bath alongside a blue sponge.

In the toothbrush holder there are three toothbrushes, which I take to mean Nathan doesn’t live here alone. Everything in here looks like men’s stuff, not a womanly product in site, which also means if there are other people living here, they aren’t female. Not that it would matter either way.

Maybe Nathan lives with his dad and brother. He did say they were with him looking after me after the attack, and that they were the ones who got rid of the Vârcolac that attacked me and Ca …

A sharp pain stabs me in my chest taking my breath with it. I lean up against the wall. A clotted sigh escapes me as a tear rolls down my cheek, followed in quick succession by another and another. I roughly wipe my face. The silence echoes all around me. It’s haunting.

I walk over to the sink and run the cold water tap. Cupping the water into my hands, I press it to my face, washing my tears away. I grab my towel from off the floor and wipe my face dry.

Everything’s gone. In the blink of an eye I've lost everything I cared about. And I’ve only got myself to blame.

I just drank blood. I have fangs. I’ve been turned into a freak, a complete and utter freak. I feel all wrong; dirty and violated.

I don’t want to be like this. I want to be normal again. I gulp back my tears.

Moving away from the mirror I go and turn the shower on, turning it up hot. Steam quickly rises, cocooning me. I pull the T-shirt off, ignoring the scar that brands me, climb under the water, and attempt to scrub the ‘hideous’ from off me.

Chapter 7

Shifters

I've scrubbed myself clean. It hasn’t helped. I don’t feel any better. But then, I didn’t really expect I would.

I’ve dressed in the clothes Nathan gave me. The size ten T-shirt fits fine but the jeans are a bit too big for me. They’re hanging off my hips, but I suppose it’s better they’re too big than too tight.

I wring the water out of my hair and rub the towel roughly over it, trying to rid it of the excess water. My hair holds water like a sponge.

I look around the bathroom for a hairdryer. There isn’t one. I hang my wet towel over the side of the bath and go back through to the bedroom to see if there’s one in there.

After a good search through the desk drawers, chest of drawers and wardrobe - which is empty of clothes I notice - I come to the easy conclusion that there isn’t one in here. My damp hair has soaked a wet patch into the back of my T-shirt. I really don’t want to go and ask Nathan for a hairdryer. I go back to the desk and get an elastic band I spotted in there, and tie my hair back into a ponytail.