He looks up at me with heated eyes and refuses to break my gaze as he makes a small but deep cut on my inner forearm over a vein. I wince but am rather proud of myself when I don’t cry out because it hurts like a bitch, and pain brings out the sailor in me.
Keeping his eyes locked on mine in what I think is meant to be a sexy look—epic fail there—Elijah brings my bleeding arm to his mouth. At first, he just licks the beads of blood that have bubbled on the surface, but then he gasps and clamps his mouth down on the cut. He pulls a hard suck, and his eyes roll back in his head. He moans in a way that makes me feel dirty—though, that could just be his thoughts making me feel that way.
He’s never had blood like mine before. He was right, and it’s everything he expected. He doesn’t know what’s different about me, but mine is the sweetest, most vitalizing blood he’s ever had. He can feel the power I’m giving him, and it’s exciting him sexually.
Suddenly, the tingling sensation—that intuition that someone plans to harm me—disappears. Elijah no longer plans to allow me to be sacrificed. He has other uses for me now. He wants me to be his girlfriend, or, at least, some kind of sex and blood slave.
He was drawn to me before, but now, after sharing this intimate moment and tasting me, he’s completely gone for me. It’s more than bloodlust. He wants to claim my body as much as my blood. He’s never wanted anything more. He plans to feel Nick out about ending his relationship with me before Tuesday, and he’ll do whatever needs to be done if Nick’s unwilling. He thinks Nick will go for it, though, because he didn’t seem to really care about me, he only wanted my power, and Elijah can offer him a lot of power. It should be an easy negotiation. Nowhere in his thoughts does he consider my feelings toward himself or Nick. Asshole.
Elijah’s thoughts disappear as he’s ripped away from me. “Okay, that’s enough,” Nick says.
He takes his shirt off and wraps it around my bleeding arm before putting his leather jacket over my shoulders. I must be really out of it, because I’m shaking and I want to go home and I don’t even care about the fact that Nick is shirtless and totally lives up to his name. Hell, he’d live up to Adonis’s name.
“You okay?” he asks. I nod, but the simple action makes me sway, and Nick is forced to catch me. He glares at Elijah.
“You took too much,” Parker growls.
He’s keeping a lot of distance from me at the moment, and his eyes are burning red again. I must be the Bella to his Edward. That’s comforting. Not.
“Sorry.” Elijah looks completely drunk. His brothers are holding him up, and he’s grinning at me with a wide, goofy smile. “You are incredible, Nora. So strong.”
Really? That’s strange, considering I’m human. Whatever little underworlder blood I have in me must be really kickass. But it’s a mystery for another day, because I can hardly keep my eyes open.
“We,” Elijah says, pressing a hand to his chest and then waving at his brothers, “the Brotherhood of the Highest Order, would be honored to invite Nick into our circle and have you as his sponsor.”
“Super.” I can’t dial back the sarcasm. My head hurts too much.
Elijah’s smile softens. “Go home and get some sleep. You’ll feel better soon, and then we’ll talk.” His eyes shift to Nick. “We’ll text you on Tuesday with the location for your initiation. Bring Nora. Once you’ve completed your initiation, you will be one of us. We’ll move you into the house, and you can start to learn our secrets. Power you can only dream of right now will be yours in reality.”
“Sounds good,” Nick says, shaking Elijah’s hand. “Parker, want to help me get her home?”
Parker looks at me, face pinched in pain and shame. “I’d better not.”
Nick narrows his eyes at Parker as if he’s now thinking the same thing I was a moment ago. What’s so special about my blood? It should be normal human blood with maybe a drop of underworlder power in it. It shouldn’t be so different that it’s testing the control of a vampire as old as Parker, and who recently fed.
Nick turns me to face him and zips up his jacket while searching my eyes. “We need to get you home and in bed. Think you can hold on to me long enough for me to get you there on the bike?”
I’m honestly not sure, but my car is still parked at the club, and I’m not letting anyone besides Nick take me home. “I’m good.”
“Okay. Let’s get you home.”
By the time I wake up, having that psycho Elijah drink my blood feels like nothing but a bad dream. I vaguely remember Nick taking me for a burger before getting me home and putting me in bed, though, for the life of me, I can’t remember what we talked about. It had something to do with me needing iron and waiting until Tuesday and having the Agency back us up, but I can’t remember specifics.
I also don’t feel like waiting.
I get up and shower, then wander into the kitchen. There’s a note on the table near my keys, laptop, and phone. “Déjà vu,” I mutter as I pick up the paper. The note is written in the same slanted all caps.
WENT INTO THE CLUB EARLY. HAD YOUR CAR
BROUGHT HOME. GORGEOUS TOLD ME WHAT
HAPPENED. TEXT ME WHEN YOU WAKE UP,
AND LET ME KNOW YOU’RE OKAY.
I snort softly to myself. It’s like having a dad—one that actually cares. I find it ironic that I didn’t gain a real parental figure until years after I aged out of the foster system and went off on my own.
Checking the time on my phone, I’m surprised to find it’s after five p.m. I slept away the entire day. I’ve also got to still be iron deficient, because I’ve got a mad craving for a big, juicy bacon cheeseburger.
I rummage through the fridge for a minute, and after not finding what I’m looking for, I decide to venture out to the place I think Nick took me to last night. The one thing I really remembered is that the food had been awesome.
The drive isn’t long, and the place isn’t crowded. Best combination ever, as I’m still feeling weak. I claim a booth to myself and pull out my laptop. May as well look for a job while I wait for my burger. If we find Shandra and the others tomorrow, then I’m only stuck in Detroit as long as it takes for me to figure out where to go.
I find a job opening at a motorcycle shop in a town called Monroe. It’s about an hour south of here on the coast of Lake Erie. Population says 20,000. I click on the job listing. I’ve always liked the idea of small town living. I’ve heard most underworlders prefer big cities—more people means it’s easier to blend in. There may be a pack of werewolves out there—they prefer small towns with trees around to run in—but they are notorious for sticking to their packs. They wouldn’t care about little old me.
I’m about to dial the phone number when my burger comes. The smell hits my nose, and the job is forgotten. The burger is even more delicious than I remembered. It’s the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time. I scarf it down like I haven’t eaten in a week, and consider ordering a second one, but decide to go with a chocolate butterscotch brownie with a Detroit signature—ginger ale ice cream. It’s so good I’m literally moaning with pleasure when a shadow falls over my booth.
“I was going to say a woman like you shouldn’t have to dine alone, but it sounds like you’re enjoying yourself,” Elijah teases, lust in his eyes. He smirks when I gasp, startled to see him. “Hello, Nora.”
My shock of seeing him here overrides any embarrassment I might have felt. “Elijah!” My eyes flick to the man next to him. “Mark. What are you guys doing here?”
Mark would be Mr. Muscles, the infamous hooptie driver, who also seems to be Elijah’s right-hand man. I don’t like him. He’s got a quality about him like Xavier has—the vibe of a twisted pervert. I grind my teeth at seeing them, looming over my booth while I’m all by myself, but I force a smile. “This is a pleasant surprise. I’m sorry Nicky’s not here. He’ll be sad that he missed you.”
Elijah waves me off. “Never mind Nick. We’ll see him soon enough. I came to see you.” He slides into the booth on my side, and then adds, “You don’t mind if we join you, do you?”