Baz lifted Stan's head and gently placed one of the towels beneath his neck. Holy, shit, fuck,Baz murmured as warm blood poured over his hands. Only then did he remember the vodka. He was supposed to be disinfecting the towels and the wound but the threat of infection seemed futile compared to the torn flesh. The white cloth drank up the dark red liquid, and within minutes was completely saturated. He wrung out the blood and then tightened his grip, covering the wound with the first towel and grabbing a second that he could knot around Stan’s neck to secure the make-shift bandage.
With the last clean towel he wiped off his bloody fingers as he watched his friend take small but shallow breaths. He bent over the ledge of the tub to check Stan's pulse one more time, using his wrists — given the fact that his neck was now inaccessible. He closed his eyes and began searching for the steady trace of movement in his friend's veins. One. Two. Three...
A sharp jolt of pain rippled through Baz. He staggered, losing his balance momentarily, and propped himself against the tub. The stabbing pain left him breathless and dizzy. Then, as quickly as the pain came, it vanished, replaced with a familiar and unwelcome yearning.
No. No. No.
Baz raised his hand to his neck, his fingers searching for the familiar chain. The ring that controlled his genie magick, was gone. Dread spread through him like a rolling fog. He had a brief flash of the gold band on the bamboo floor in the living room. Shit. He knew exactly what had happened.
Angie’s presence filled the room. He didn't want to turn around, but he couldn't resist the urge to look at her. It had been five years since his magick had been claimed by another, and he was both excited and terrified for the journey that awaited. He had a new Master now, and she was waiting to greet him in the doorway.
***
When Angie woke, she was lying on the floor, staring up at a small but elegant crystal chandelier. It took her a moment to recall where she was. The decor was too sophisticated for her L.A. apartment and lacked none of the familiar comforts of home. A clock ticked on the wall and with each second that past the fog of her memory cleared. She’d taken a trip to Vegas with her roommates. She’d been attacked outside a club. She woke up in a coffin, confused, disoriented, and in her boss’s Vegas condo. And Sebastian Cole apparently had no idea they’d met twice before.
She rolled to her side and a thick gold band with three sparkling diamonds caught her eye. As she reached for the ring her hand smeared fresh blood on the hardwood floor.
Had she really bit a complete stranger and drank his blood?
Bile rose in her throat and Angie clutched the ring so tightly her nails cut into the palm of her hand. She rolled her tongue over the small fangs at the front of her mouth. They weren't fully extended but they were there — more proof that her human life had vanished along with her so-called friends who abandoned her during their Vegas get-away. How had this happened? How had she gone from partying with her friends to waking up in a coffin and yearning for blood? And why was she in her boss’s condo? No one, certainly not Sebastian Cole, seemed to have answers.
Angie spotted a trail of spilled blood and braced herself for what was too come as she followed it throughout the apartment. She had attacked a man in the hallway. Maybe even killed him. A shudder of panic ran up her spine. She’d never taken the life of anything larger than a mosquito. Now her attempt to let loose and live it up in Vegas with her new roommates had turned into a nightmare. She was a vampire. It made no sense, but she couldn’t deny her insatiable craving for blood moments earlier.
Angie was desperate to apologize to Sebastian, though she wasn’t quite sure what to say. Sorry someone turned me into a vampire and sent me to your apartment dressed like a hooker. Sorry I got hungry and tried to eat your friend for dinner? My bad. Yeah, that probably wouldn't help her make amends.
Worse, since landing her new internship, Angie had spent the last three weeks fantasizing about the mouth-watering CEO of Visio PR. Now she was absolutely certain that Sebastian Cole, number six on hollywood’s most eligible bachelors list, had no idea who she was. There was no recognition on his face when he had opened the coffin. Nor a sense of the familiar as he assisted her out of the shiny black box.
When he examined her body, lusting for her with those sexy bedroom eyes, she thought it was a dream come true. For a brief moment she was tempted to play along. She could pretend to be his call girl for one night. What was the harm in that?
But then it all went to Hell. The knock on the door. The scent of fresh blood. Blind instinct had taken over and she was consumed with hunger.
Oh, God. She had to make this right.