I looked at Imani. She was still staring at Sam, seeming oblivious to everything else. No, not staring at Sam. Staring at her mouth. A mouth that was bleeding freely.
“Imani?” I called out. She didn’t respond. I headed straight to her. “Imani, what are you doing?” She was doing something. She was also ignoring me. I shook her a little. “Baby, stop.”
She double-blinked. And I could have sworn the rims of her pupils flashed silver for a second. Then she scowled as she seemed to finally see me. “What are you doing? Let go.”
“You called my blood.”
Imani frowned at Sam’s words. “What?”
“You called my blood.” Sam wasn’t pissed, she was fascinated.
“No, I didn’t.”
“I could feel a weird force pulling at it. As soon as you looked away, my lip healed.”
Paling, Imani shook her head. I understood. She’d had enough weird shit going on around her. She didn’t need more.
“Consciously or not, you called my blood to you,” Sam insisted.
“No.” Imani took a few steps back. “I can’t call blood.”
I reached for her, but she backed away even further. “Baby—”
In a blink, she was gone.
Fuck.
(Imani)
Hard to drown your sorrows when you were part-human.
The only way a vampire could get drunk was by feeding from intoxicated humans. But since the blood of the humans waltzing around the bar didn’t appeal to me, I was sober as a judge.
Still, I wasn’t ready to go home yet. I needed space. Space to accept that, whether I wanted to believe it or not, I’d called someone’s blood to me. Space to accept that I was now back in that place where I didn’t ‘fit.’
That was what bothered me most about this being part-human business. Being different reminded me too much of the years I’d struggled to be accepted by my own damn family. I was the kind of person who’d always liked what I didn’t understand. Mysteries, puzzles, and things that were ‘different’ had always fascinated me. But it was a whole other matter when you were the one who was different; when you didn’t understand yourself.
As for Butch…what a shithead. A hypocritical shithead. In my position, he would never have sat at home like a good little boy while others went to battle. No freaking way. There was being protective, and there was being an interfering asshole who completely dismissed any input I had on my own decisions.
Well, both he and Sam had warned me that he’d fuck up a lot. I’d hoped they were exaggerating.
Something else ticking me off. From what Sam and Jared had learned, Marco was telling the truth about The Order. That meant The Hollow was facing a bunch of terrorists with the extinction of vampirekind in mind. It also meant I’d have to talk to him again. Jared had chosen to delay it until tomorrow night to send Marco the message that he wasn’t running the show. It was a good idea and—
“You okay?”
My upper lip curled. Dean. Just what I needed. I didn’t even bother to look at him.
He slipped onto the stool beside mine. “Seriously, are you okay? You have bruises on your face. Since when do vampires bruise?”
Since they became a little human, apparently.
“I came to see you when you were hurt. Richardson wouldn’t let me in.”
I was about to point out that, overcome with bloodlust, I would have drained Dean dry. However, given my new aversion to human blood, I probably wouldn’t have touched him.
“You’re still pissed at me, huh.”
He expected anything different? “You broke my trust, Dean.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
I did look at him then. “You let another vampire drink from you, even though you’d sworn you wouldn’t. You broke your promise and, in doing so, broke my trust.”
“I guess I didn’t think it would bother you that much,” he mumbled.
God, Butch was right; he really was a prick. “Just go.”
“Wait, I just want to say—”
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I don’t even want an apology. I just want you to leave.” But the bastard actually went to take my hand. “Don’t touch me.”
A familiar scent swirled around me just as a hand possessively slid around my neck. “You okay, baby?”
Um, no. Duh.
“You need to back the fuck off, human,” he rumbled.
Dean swallowed nervously. “This has nothing to do with you,” he stated, but his voice was shaky.
“There is no ‘this’—there’s only you being a prick. Try not to be one all your life.”
I didn’t have the patience for either male right now. I shot off the stool and went to pass Butch, but he pulled me to him. I would have struggled, but his mouth moved to my ear and he said, “Don’t, baby.” If it had been a demand or an order, I could have ignored that. But it was a coaxing plea. It took me off-guard and made me freeze when I should have moved away.
“Imani, you know he’s not going to stay with you,” snapped Dean. “He’s just using you.”
“Not very bright, are you?” said Butch.