by Lucinda Dark
Oh, Barbie… Satrina’s voice came back to me in a barely there whisper. I’m sorry.
Cracking my eyelids open as if I could see her before me, I tried to reach back for her. It didn’t work. As soon as she was there, she was gone in the next instant. Leaving me wondering why she was sorry? What would this mean for her?
On the heels of Satrina’s apology came another. Torin bent over me, his mouth against my ear, lips impossibly close. A shiver threatened to overtake me, partially because of his nearness, but also because I was just so damn cold. Like ice had somehow managed to form beneath my flesh. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. So sorry. But I can’t lose you,” he whispered.
I strained to hear him, but there was certainly no response I could offer. My voice had stopped working. My sight was nearly nonexistent. I was falling into darkness, into oblivion and I didn’t even want to think about what would happen when I woke again.
“What now?” Maverick’s voice intruded as Torin’s arm was finally removed from my lips and this time, it didn’t return.
“Now, we need a coffin,” Torin replied.
Man, I thought. I really am gonna die. That stupid fortune cookie I’d gotten all those months ago had been right. Life was a bitch and then you died.
Epilogue
Barbie
Two weeks later…
I’d been in the darkness for so long, I’d forgotten what light felt like. There was both freedom and fear to be found in the darkness. For the longest while after I’d woken up, I thought I’d lost my mind. I’d torn at my cage, tried to claw my way free to no avail. But now, it was all coming to an end. Finally.
I could scent them before the dark barrier that had held me captive for so long creaked open. One smelled like dark spices and the other like a warm hearth. It was a coffin lid, I realized as soft, dim light poured into the interior of my prison. Even as muted as the light was, it still burned my corneas. Despite that, it didn’t take long for me to adjust and once I had, an all new awareness assaulted my senses.
I could see everything.
Every particle in the air. The grains of stone in the room I was in. My blood sang in my veins. Tingles raced along my skin. The air felt different. There was a weightlessness about it. Slowly, reaching out and curling my fingers over the edges of the stone tomb where the coffin I had been in was laid to rest, I hefted myself into a sitting position. I glanced back. The inside of my coffin had been ripped apart. Long tears ripped through the sides and claw marks raked every inch of the interior of the lid, both the top and bottom portion.
“When going through the transition, new vampires tend to destroy their surroundings,” a familiar voice said, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. Well, that explained why it looked like someone had punched out the sides of the coffin and shredded the soft velvet lining. There were long rips on each side where I assumed my nails had scraped the inside. I didn’t even recall doing that, but it might have explained why my hands were crusted with dried blood around the beds of my nails.
Two familiar bodies stood over me. “Jesus fucking Christ…” The familiar hitch of Maverick’s voice reached me, layered by shock and a healthy dose of fear that permeated the room. He was fire. Burning red hot in my senses. I inhaled sharply, sensing a new being inside me. A small, grotesque voice shrieked with desire in the back of my mind, growing louder by the second.
“Barbie?” That voice was ice. Cold. Cool. Calm. Collected. Torin. His frost trembled along my nerves. I could hear the blood rushing in both their veins. It called to me. Made my mouth water. Something shifted in my gums and when I parted my lips, I felt the distinct prick of fangs as my canines descended.
I lifted a hand and reached for the edge to draw myself farther up and out. Old blood coated my fingertips. My nails, though, were new, fresh. My palms were smooth, cleared of any old scarring from training or childhood mistakes. It was as if these hands had never seen any work. As if they’d never been painted, chipped, or broken before. Probably because they hadn’t, I thought as I looked down at the blood and chips of nails that I’d apparently torn off in my attempt to escape.
Madness had consumed me. So why wasn’t I still mad?
“Because you’re through the transition,” Torin answered my unspoken question as if he’d plucked it from my mind. Could he read my mind now? I wondered. “No,” he answered. “You’re projecting your thoughts to me.” He reached forward and held out a hand for me to take. My fingers met his but instead of letting me clamber out myself, he wrapped his other arm around my waist and lifted me out, placing my bare feet down on the stone floor of what looked to be a Mausoleum. An old, crumbling one at that. One I didn’t remember.
There were cracks in the walls, broken jars littering the shelves whose contents had long ago been stolen or dried up and evaporated. Cobwebs strung up across the arched ceiling, spiders dangling from long, slender threads watching as I took my first hesitant step.
I turned my head to Maverick, sniffing delicately. He stared at me, frozen. “You look…” His words seemed to escape him.
“Beautiful,” Torin finished for him.
I tilted my head back to him. My lips parted. My nostrils flared. A churning desire different than anything I’d ever experienced before. Maverick stepped up next to Torin and between them, my craving grew. My skin shivered from their nearness.
Oh Barbie… Even Satrina’s voice returned, though she sounded different. Shaken. Almost … afraid. I remembered her saying that before, combined with an apology. I didn’t understand why she’d be sorry then and I didn’t understand her hesitancy to speak to me now.
“How do you feel, Barbie?” Torin’s question dragged my attention back to him.
My mouth was coated in saliva. Something dark curdled in my stomach as my gaze lasered down to a pinpoint of light as the rest of the world dimmed into darkness. I swallowed desperately.
“Barbie?” Maverick stepped forward only to be stopped by an outstretched hand. Torin’s. I focused on the pulse point in his neck.
I touched the roof of my mouth with my tongue and slid it forward until I licked down the length of one fang. A glowing red haze descended as I narrowed my eyes on the delicious, repetitive thumping in his throat.
I only had one answer, and I was so lost to it in that moment, that I didn’t even have the ability to realize how truly terrified I should’ve been. I gave only one answer, one warning—shoving the singular word out through too large teeth that didn’t belong in my mouth as I tensed, preparing to attack.
How did I feel?
There was only one thing I felt.
“Hungry,” I whispered. Then, I attacked.
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About the Author
Lucinda Dark, also known as Lucy Smoke for her contemporary novels, has a master’s degree in English and is a self-proclaimed creative chihuahua. She enjoys feeding her wanderlust, cover addiction, as well as her face, and truly hopes people will stop giving her bath bombs as gifts. Bath’s get cold too fast and it’s just not as wonderful as the commercials make it out to be when the tub isn’t a jacuzzi.
When she’s not on a never-ending quest to find the perfect milkshake, she lives and works in the southern United States with her beloved fur-baby, Hiro, and her family and friends.
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Also by Lucinda Dark / Lucy Smoke
Fantasy Series:
Barbie: The Vampire Hunter Series
Rest in Pieces
Dead Girl Walking
Ashes to Ashes
Dark
Maji Series
Fortune Favors the Cruel
Blessed Be the Wicked
Twisted is the Crown
For King and Corruption
Nerys Newblood Series
Daimon
Necrosis
Resurrection (Coming Soon)
Dystopian Series:
Sky Cities Series
Heart of Tartarus
Shadow of Deception
Sword of Damage
Dogs of War (Coming Soon)
Contemporary Series:
Iris Boys Series (completed)
Now or Never
Power & Choice
Leap of Faith
Cross my Heart
The Break Series (completed)
Study Break
Tough Break
Spring Break
Break Series Collection
Standalones:
Expressionate
Wildest Dreams
Sweet Possession (Coming Soon)
