Blood Secret: Paranormal Vampire Romance (Blood Immortal Book 4)

by Ava Benton

  Her forehead creased just slightly as she thought this over.

  I waited, watching, anticipating her breakdown. Or her violent denial.

  I didn’t predict her raucous laughter.

  “What?” She threw her head back and laughed helplessly, filling the room with the sound of her disbelief. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “I understand why you wouldn’t want to believe it.”

  Though she wasn’t laughing at me, it wasn’t easy to hold onto my temper.

  “It has nothing to do with want,” she gasped, wiping away her tears of mirth. “It’s impossible to believe.”

  “There are many things you’ll need to believe before this is over,” I predicted as I took one, then another step toward her.

  I’d show her something that would turn her into a believer.

  6

  Janna

  The little bits of leftover laughter died in my throat when he came toward me with his fists clenched.

  He hated that I wasn’t taking him seriously, and I was about to see him turn on the viciousness he had shown in the alley.

  “Wait.” I held up my hands, palms out, and he froze in place.

  It was the first time I had seen him show any sort of nerves, and it surprised me. Was that all it took?

  I looked at my palms, then at him. “What? What’s the problem?” There was nothing wrong with my hands that I could see.

  “It’s just that…” He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “You honestly don’t know. I keep forgetting.”

  “Forgetting what? Oh, right. That I have witch’s blood in me.” I pointed them at him again. “Are you afraid I’ll cast a spell on you?”

  “No, because you don’t have power. But you do have witch blood. And don’t roll your eyes, because it’s true.”

  “I didn’t roll my eyes.”

  “You did.” He frowned. “Didn’t you know it?”

  “No.”

  “You probably do it so frequently, it’s become second nature.”

  I rolled my eyes. “See? That’s an eye roll.”

  “It’s exactly what you did before.”

  “Oh, my God.” I shook my head, eyes closed. “It’s like an episode of The Twilight Zone.”

  “The what?”

  I blinked. “The TV show. Yeah, it’s old, but I thought everybody’d heard of it.”

  “I never have.”

  “Where have you been your entire life? In a cave?”

  He chuckled again, only this time it was genuine. The chuckle became a laugh. “You’ve come closer than you know.”

  I didn’t bother asking what that meant. Every question only led me deeper down the rabbit hole.

  “Fine, whatever. Let’s take a few steps back, because I would genuinely like to know what you’re talking about when you say my mother’s a witch. I mean, yeah, there are times when I’ve imagined her sitting on a broomstick, zooming through the sky.”

  I pantomimed the motion with my hand, moving it up at an angle as I made a whooshing sound.

  He frowned.

  What a surprise.

  “Why would a witch do that?”

  “Because… that’s what witches are supposed to do. I mean, on TV, in books, cartoons.”

  The man is more lost than ever. I’m pretty sure he came from another planet. It’s the only explanation I can put together on the fly.

  “Oh, yes. I remember. Pointed hats, broomsticks, black cats.”

  “You remember? Why would you have to… never mind.” I couldn’t make head or tails of him, and he only confused me more by the second. “Anyway, explain yourself. My mother is a lot of things, I admit, and I don’t like many of those things. But she isn’t a witch. I mean, I would know.” I swallowed hard. “Wouldn’t I?”

  “The woman you’re speaking of is not your mother. Not your biological mother, at any rate.” His face didn’t move. He didn’t even blink his freaky eyes.

  Nothing.

  Like he was telling me it would be hot again tomorrow.

  No big deal, your mom’s not your mom.

  It was like a bomb going off inside my head. Wiping out everything I ever knew and putting everything into place at the same time.

  Could bombs do that?

  I didn’t think so, but this bomb did. I tried to take a deep breath, but my throat was closing. I couldn’t get even a little bit of air in there.

  “You’re going to faint.” He took control instantly, sitting me down, placing one strong hand on the back of my neck and forcing my head between my knees.

  I couldn’t fight him off or even tell him to keep his hands to himself. I would have to be able to breathe to do that.

  “Focus on breathing. As deep as you can. Count to four, then release for four.”

  “Shut… up…” I wheezed, even though I was trying to do as he said because it made sense.

  He was crazy, but he made sense.

  I focused like he told me to and did what I could to count slowly, steadily. It was easier than thinking about what he’d just told me.

  Mom wasn’t my mother. Not really.

  It made so much sense. My whole life, I had never understood why I couldn’t just fit in. Why couldn’t I be like Jimmy, like Mom and Dad, like the children of their friends? She was always holding them up in my face, comparing me to them, wondering why I wasn’t as serious as them, why I couldn’t do as well in school or letter in sports or be a cheerleader. Why I didn’t have serious career plans. Why I couldn’t marry some dickhead who went to Yale or Columbia or something, whose daddy ran a hedge fund.

  Why I never, ever felt like I was one of them.

  It wasn’t me. It was them all along. They weren’t like me. I wasn’t wrong. I was just different. And they were normal, boring, pathetic. Just like I had always told myself.

  “That’s why,” I whispered. I noticed I was shaking. Shock?

  “What’s why?” he asked.

  “Why she doesn’t like me.” I squeezed my eyes shut, but it was too late. Tears dripped onto the carpet before I sat up.

  “The woman who raised you?”

  “Yes.” I covered my face. “Why did she adopt me if she didn’t want me?”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “There’s nothing to say, anyway. It’s a rhetorical question.”

  “Pardon me if I’m overstepping my boundaries… but I’m sure your adoptive mother wanted you.”

  “Maybe. It doesn’t matter.” I wiped my eyes. “That’s all over. The past. Thank you for helping me make sense of it, anyway.”

  He crouched down at my side, watching me. Like I was an animal, something to be observed.

  “You never questioned what I just told you. About your adoption.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… I know. I only needed somebody to confirm.” I tapped my chest with one finger. “I knew it in here for a long time. If anything, it’s a relief to hear it out loud. I’m not crazy, and it’s not just a matter of me being a spoiled brat whose Mommy and Daddy didn’t understand her. The way she always made me feel.”

  “It’s not easy, being different.”

  I laughed. “No. It’s not.” I could’ve kissed him just then, if he didn’t freak me out so much.

  Those eyes. I would never get used to them. “You have the same contacts in your eyes as the people from the club,” I observed, since I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “What are contacts?”

  “Okay, just stop that.” I stood up and rubbed my arms briskly. “I know you think you’re funny and you’re having a good time messing with my head, but enough’s enough. I can only stand so much of it in one night.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Fuck off!” I blurted out as I spun on him. “Look, I don’t know who sent you—”

  “Your birth mother. Along with a few others.”

  “Fantastic. Great stuff. But that
doesn’t mean you get the right to screw with me. Stop acting like you don’t know about normal, everyday stuff and start being real.”

  He stared at me for a moment, before his mouth fell open in understanding. “Right. You don’t know anything. I keep taking for granted that you do.”

  “Great, more bombshells. Like I want to hear more. This is a fucking joke.”

  “You use a lot of profanity.”

  “No shit,” I sneered. “What is this? The olden days? When women weren’t supposed to use dirty words?”

  His eyes narrowed, and I had a flash of memory.

  The way he pulled that girl’s head off. It wasn’t enough to disable her or even kill her. He tore her goddamned head off and tossed it aside like a ball. And he was in my apartment, with only me, and I had just pushed a little too far.

  I didn’t want him around me anymore. He was bad news.

  “Thank you for helping me tonight and for telling me about my history. It’s time to leave now,” I announced as I walked to the door.

  He beat me there.

  One second, he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

  The next, he was standing in front of me with his back to the door, arms folded over his chest.

  I jumped back like he was made of fire, scrambling, and my ass hit the floor with a solid smack.

  I didn’t feel it.

  “How did you do that?” I whispered.

  “Do what?”

  “You know what. Don’t play innocent. How did you get from there,” I pointed to the bed, “to there?” I pointed to him.

  “I walked. Just the same as you did.”

  I shook my head. “Not that fast. There’s no way you couldn’t walked that fast. Nobody can.”

  “What does that tell you, Janna?” He waited, face like a blank sheet of paper. Not even blinking.

  Oh, dear God, what was he?

  The way he’d torn into the girl’s throat in the alley. I had seen his teeth.

  No. Fangs.

  And he had torn her up, yes, my brain didn’t want to go back to the memory of that moment, but it was there.

  It had happened.

  He had torn her throat out and spat out her flesh, and her blood had flowed and spattered on the ground. And her head had swung from his hand.

  No. I was imagining it. Didn’t I already decide I was imagining it? That somebody had slipped me a drug? But when could that have happened? I took my drink into the bathroom. Something through the vents, something airborne? It would explain why I had an anxiety attack.

  But that didn’t ring true, either, because I wasn’t there anymore. Would the effects linger that long? They had to, because the alternative was unthinkable.

  Unthinkable wasn’t the same as impossible.

  “You’re not human. You can’t be.” That would explain the eyes, too, and the weird way of speaking, like he came from another time.

  For the second time in maybe four minutes, I couldn’t breathe. I was sure a hand was squeezing my heart. Or an elephant was sitting on my chest. Either one.

  “You’re right. I’m not.” His shoulders moved ever so slightly. Like he tried to shrug.

  “Just like that? You’re going to tell me just like that? Whoops, sorry, I’m not human.”

  “I didn’t say I was sorry. That’s where you’re wrong. I only said I wasn’t human.”

  “What are you, then?”

  “You don’t know? You spend enough time among them. They fascinate you, don’t they? Did you wonder why?”

  I sputtered. “I—I draw them.”

  “Some people draw flowers. Dogs. Landscapes.” He took a step toward me. Then, another.

  I scrambled backward, away from him. Anything to get away from him. My back hit the foot of the bed, and I fought my way to my feet, even though my legs were rubbery. I couldn’t rely on them to hold me up, so I crawled backward to the headboard and curled up against it.

  “Think, Janna. Why do you think you chose a bunch of vampires and witches to use as your subjects?”

  “They’re—they’re not, really,” I stammered.

  My heart thudded like a bass drum, and my thoughts spun out of control. Did I have any weapons? Knives, but they were across the room. Not a lot of help. I could’ve kicked myself for not keeping something close to the bed, maybe under the pillows.

  He watched me think things through, and the look on his face told me he knew I was thinking things through and that was the most terrifying of all. He had me pinned and was watching me squirm, and I was pretty sure he liked it.

  I cleared my throat and forced myself to speak above a whisper. “There’s no such thing as actual vampires.”

  “Are you sure? Are you very sure?” He loomed over me, like he had somehow magically gained several inches.

  I told myself my eyes were playing tricks on me when his canines seemed to lengthen and sharpen into dangerous points.

  His eyes went from that eerie gray-ringed-in-red to completely red, blood red, like some special effect out of a horror movie.

  Except I was looking at it in real life.

  “No. Stop this.” I turned my face away and crossed my arms in front like that would stop him from hurting me if he really wanted to.

  I was still fuzzy after getting drugged at the club. That was it.

  Not that it made me feel better, but it was an explanation and somehow more comforting than the idea of being alone in my apartment with…

  No. Impossible.

  Nothing happened.

  I opened my eyes slowly, cautiously, waiting for him to jump at me and surprised he didn’t. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t, though, which I reminded myself as I lowered my arms.

  He looked the same as ever.

  I must have imagined it. “I think there’s something wrong with me,” I whispered slowly. “I’m seeing things.”

  “What things?” He sounded lightly amused. One eyebrow arched inquisitively.

  “I… I don’t know. Your face changed. You looked different.”

  “You still think that was a hallucination?” He smiled, then shook his head. “You are truly determined not to see the truth.”

  “Don’t do this to me. Don’t get inside my head and stir things around.” My chest rose and fell in time with my rapid breathing as I looked up at him.

  “I realize I’m stirring things around, as you say, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sure this is a lot for you to take in at once.” He pointed to the bed, as if to ask permission to sit near me.

  I nodded. Not that I had a choice. I had never felt so torn between wanting to escape and wanting to placate someone so they wouldn’t hurt me.

  Oh, God, I’m going to become one of those girls on the news, the ones who end up dead in their apartment after letting the wrong person upstairs. This is how it happens.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, that’s what they all say, I’m sure.”

  “The difference is, I mean it. The purpose of my being here is to help and protect you. Not to hurt you.”

  “Protect me from what? Help me with what? I don’t need either, thank you.”

  “You didn’t feel that way earlier tonight.”

  I winced. “Earlier tonight was different. Girls get accosted at clubs. It happens all the time—and I’ve never needed a bodyguard before.”

  “You think that was an everyday occurrence? Come, now. I thought we had already discussed this?”

  “No. Don’t be a jerk. I only mean she didn’t want to hurt me. Maybe hook up with me since it seemed like she liked me, but—”

  “No. That’s where you’re wrong.” His body seemed to vibrate with intensity. “I meant everything I’ve said. I wasn’t trying to deceive you, and this is no hallucination. Everything you saw tonight was real. Everything I’ve told you is the truth. That vampire girl saw who you were—yes, perhaps she was attracted to you, as you’re an attractive girl. But it wasn’t entirely sexual. She wanted y
our blood, and she wanted you on her side.”

  “Her side.”

  “You’re not a threat to them,” he explained, “but you’re not a friend, and she felt it. Vampires don’t like witches or even half-bloods trespassing in their world. She sensed about you what I’m willing to bet you’ve sensed in yourself, only you didn’t understand until today what made you different. Even now, it’s likely you can’t fathom the extent of what your blood means.”

  I wanted to cover my ears and make it all go away. “Stop it. Just stop it. Who are you, Dumbledore?”

  “Enough.” Just that one simple word, spoken in a flat, toneless hiss but with as much force as if he’d screamed it, sealed my mouth shut and sent goosebumps running up and down my arms. “I’ve had enough of your sarcasm, your poor attempts at avoiding the truth of the situation. You’re wasting my time, and your own. Wouldn’t it be easier for you to simply accept what your mind is telling you? Somewhere in there, you know this is the truth. You know your eyes are not deceiving you. You can lie to yourself, but such lies only last for so long.”

  He leaned closer, hands on the mattress, and I glanced down to find he’d suddenly grown claws. Claws like an animal would have.

  They dug into my sheets, and I wanted to tell him to be careful of them, which was such a ridiculous reaction that a burst of laughter bubbled up in my chest and threatened to come out.

  Insane laughter.

  I was losing my grip.

  His eyes changed. They started taking on that red color again.

  Oh, my God, this is it, I’ve lost my mind. I never woke up today. The migraine wasn’t a migraine. It killed me. I died, and this is some sort of limbo. Or maybe it’s hell.

  No.

  A voice. A voice that voice was louder and stronger than the panicked one trying to convince me I’d died of a brain hemorrhage.

  Listen to him. Accept it. Move on from it. You’re not going to lose yourself. You’re going to move forward from this, but you have to start listening to him and thinking rationally.

  I wanted with every ounce of my being to lean away from him, but I didn’t.

  “All right. I’m listening. I’m believing. And you’re trying to tell me that you’re an actual vampire.”