Crimson Groves by Ashley Robertson Read Free Book Online Page B

it, smelled it, felt it sticking to my taste buds like honey. Sweet, scrumptious honey made of blood.
    I moved closer to her without thinking, like I was hypnotized by the scent of her fresh blood. It called to me, inviting me to it. I had never tasted blood before, but the instincts that came with my new body naturally brought with them the need for the desired blood feast.
    I didn’t bother asking to get the name of the middle-aged woman as I knelt down beside her. My black work shoes squeaked on the wooden floor. Bronx was close by, making some kind of growling noise, deep and guttural. I didn’t care. Everything around me went black, silent. I wanted blood, her blood. Blood, blood, blood.
    The woman turned her head to look up at me. Regardless of any discomfort she may have felt, her facial expression was empty, emotionless. He’d assured me numerous times that this was the only way. He couldn’t risk her struggling with me at my weakened state. That’s why her hands were bound. He must be telling the truth, right?
    I carefully placed my frigid hands on her warm, plump cheeks. Her body trembled. My hunger intensified. My lips parted, my fangs plunged out. The woman looked shocked, small eyes widening. I could sense that she wanted me to bite her. I was absolutely certain that’s what she wanted. The pulsating vein in her neck provoked me. I leaned down closer and closer, and my fangs brushed across her soft skin just before plunging into it. The woman jerked and tried to pull away, but I was able to hold her head steady. Her blood was rich, velvety, tangy, and sweet, an explosion of goodness inside my mouth. I sucked harder, pulled her closer to me, savoring every last drop.
    She stopped flinching and resisting. Whatever pain my bite had caused was over. She hummed and sighed, seeming breathless and high, paralyzed by the very bite she had just tried to escape. Slowly my raging hunger was satisfied, and I looked up at him in shame. The look returned, however, was one of pride and contentment, just as I’d assumed it would be.
    Nothing would ever be the same for me again.
    Then the woman got really quiet. Her body went limp. Panic seized me. Did I drink too much? Did I kill her? Please God don’t let her be dead. I quickly lifted my mouth away from her neck and searched her face for signs of life. She was breathing. The flow of air whistled as it passed through her nostrils. I checked her pulse. It was beating strong, alive—very alive, thank God. The woman smiled, her eyes rolling around in their sockets like a bobblehead doll. She let out a heavy sigh. I took that as an invitation to drink just a little more from her.
    I felt supercharged as I stood up from my first meal as a vampire and gently laid the woman back onto the floor. She was completely out of it. Drunken smile plastered across her face. Questions began racing through my mind. I needed answers and Bronx owed them to me. I looked around, searching the room. Bronx was sitting on the sofa, face smug with a crooked grin, shoulders stiff and straight, hands folded neatly in his lap. I took a few steps in his direction, still keeping a good distance between us.
    “Are blood donors ever killed?” I asked, then licked my lips. “You know, accidentally?”
    “I suppose there have been accidents, but most vampires do not kill their donors as we have spent decades learning to coexist. However, there are some that prefer not to feed this way and still hunt for their prey. They do not have an appetite for blood donors, though. Their blood is not as fresh as that of an innocent human.”
    “What makes them innocent?” I sucked at my bottom lip, trying to get the rest of the blood off.
    “They have not been bitten yet.”
    “You mentioned hunting with, um, your lady friend, ex-girlfriend, whatever. Were you hunting innocents?”
    “Yes,” he snickered, “they are delectable.”
    “ So, then I am not the first person you murdered?” My lips curled into a