Page 145 of Blood Lovers

I do not take it.

I turn and I run.

But really, I don’t.

I just lean into Syrsee’s neck, because I am in the tower room, at Paul’s compound, and I am on the bed with the girl I thought I wanted and the monster I love to hate.

But I suck her blood anyway.

And she moans as if she likes it. In fact, she does more than moan. She angles herself into me, her hand coming up the back of my head to grab my hair. The loose chain on her cuffed wrist makes a little clinking sound.

Then I feel Paul, his hand covering hers. They are both pushing me into her neck, urging me to gorge myself on her blood.

And that song is still playing. My kids still singing.

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine…

I force my mouth off of Syrsee, her blood spilling out of me like an overflowing glass of wine. I cough, and she begins to cry.

But I’m not sure if it’s because I’m pulling away or if she just doesn’t want to be here.

“Shhhh.” Paul is leaning over Syrsee’s body, one hand smoothing the hair away from my face. “This was her choice, Ryet. Don’t diminish her part in all this. Now look at me.”

I turn my head and find Paul’s blurry face. His cold-as-ice eyes.

He’s grinning.

I’m reliving the worst day of my life and Syrsee is being fed on like a fucking carcass, and this asshole has the nerve to grin.

“Can you feel it? Can you feel the changes, Ryet?”

“I feel sick.” I try to push him away, maybe even attempt to get up, but there isn’t a chance in hell of that. The whole room spins. I wouldn’t be able to walk to the door if my life depended on it.

“It’s OK, Ryet.” Paul is crooning at me, so pleased with himself. With this outcome. With his dream of our future together. “You just need to drink me now, blood lover. And then you’ll be juuuust fine.”

I think I say no. Well, I would like to think I say no.

But the only thing I actually know is that my teeth are sinking into his skin. And then that blood of his—that elixir that I crave so much, but have been denied so often—is falling down my throat.

In the same moment, Paul brings my wrist up to his mouth and begins taking all this blood back. It is this exchange that makes a vampire. And this is what seals my fate. It wasn’t me drinking Syrsee. It was me drinking Syrsee, and her drinking Paul, and Paul drinking me.

This is how you transfer evil.

This is how you create more darkness.

A circle. A cycle. A ring. A wheel.

We are all turning now.

Syrsee writhes underneath us. Neither of us are feeding on her, so the blood lust is probably wearing off. But we are both leaning on her and there’s no way she can escape.

I want to resist it. I do.

But I can’t.

Because my kids are still fucking singing about their shining fucking hearts and Paul’s blood is flooding into my mouth and all I want to do is devour him.

Him. Not her.