Текст книги "About a Vampire"

Автор книги: Lynsay Sands

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Four

“Holly? Holly! You slept through your alarm.”

Moaning sleepily as someone shook her shoulder, Holly turned onto her back and peered blearily up at the fair-haired man bent over her. “James?”

“Yeah. Get up, girl. You’ll be late for work,” he warned and turned to walk out of the room.

Holly stared after him with confusion and then glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 8:11. She had slept through the night and—

“Crap!” she muttered and tossed the sheets aside to get up, realizing only then that it was actually the towel she’d fallen asleep in. Catching it up again, she stood and wrapped it around herself, then moved to the closet. She had to dress and—

Holly paused in front of the closet but rather than search for clothes, she merely shifted her feet as she thought. She wasn’t even sure she had a job anymore. She’d missed two days and might be fired. She really needed to call and find out and . . . she was starved. Turning, Holly headed out of the room. She would eat first, and then call, and then dress. At least that way she would know what she was dressing for . . . work, or groveling at the temp agency for a new position.

A grimace claimed her lips at the very thought. Holly hate, hate, hated working for the temp agency, but appreciated the job at the same time because they were willing to work around her class schedule.

Holly had worked full-time to support them while James had got his applied sciences degree at the local college. He’d worked too, part-time, like she was doing now. The degree had got him a job with a low starting wage, but a lot of promise for the future. Now it was her turn. So, James had his full-time position and she had her part-time gig with the temp agency while finishing her degree. They were presently between spring and summer courses, so she had been working full-time the last week and was supposed to this week . . . but she’d missed two days. The temp agency may already have put someone else in her position.

Holly walked down to the kitchen and peered into the refrigerator, examining the contents. She’d gone shopping the night before her unfortunate trip to the cemetery and had bought loads of fruits and vegetables. Most of them were now gone and what remained didn’t look very appealing.

Sighing, she closed the door and glanced to the cupboards. There should be cereal. James didn’t eat cereal . . . and she had spotted a milk carton in the refrigerator. Whether there was any actual milk in it was another question. James had the annoying tendency to put empty cartons, or nearly empty cartons, back in the refrigerator. She started toward the cupboard where the cereal should be, but then changed her mind. Cereal just didn’t seem appealing to her at the moment either.

Holly turned in a circle and then moved to the phone. She may as well get the call done. If she did have to go to work, she had to get moving and then she could grab something to eat on the way.

Holly knew the temp agency number by heart and quickly dialed it, then waited patiently for Gladys to answer. The woman took her business very seriously and showed up as early as 7:00 A.M. or even before that when things needed doing.

“Good morning, Temps for Hire.”

Holly forced a smile into her voice and said, “Good morning, Gladys.”

“Holly! Good morning, sweetie. I’m glad you called,” Gladys said sounding happy. “I have to tell you, you’re really making points for us at Sunnyside. They love you there.”

Holly stilled, her eyebrows rising. Finally she asked in cautious tones, “They do?”

“Oh, my, yes. Every time I call they give me nothing but compliments on you and your work.”

Holly hesitated, but then asked, “And when did you last talk to them?”

“Yesterday. I called for my weekly checkup,” she answered promptly. “And they gave me an even more impressive report on you than last week. Keep up the great work, my girl. You’re making the company look good.”

Holly closed her eyes briefly and gave her head a small shake. This didn’t make any sense at all. It seemed they hadn’t tattled that she’d missed two days’ work. That or they hadn’t noticed, which didn’t seem likely . . . unless neither the boss nor his daughter had bothered to show up themselves. But that couldn’t be. Someone had to have been there to answer Gladys’s call and give that stellar report.

“So, what did you call about, Holly?” Gladys asked when she remained silent.

Grimacing, she bit her lip briefly as she tried to come up with an excuse for calling, and then said, “I just wanted to remind you that I can only work part-time again after this week.”

“Oh, yes, your classes start again,” Gladys murmured, the sound of shuffling papers coming through the phone. “Well, that’s okay. I’ll put Nancy on the days you can’t work,” she assured her, and then asked, “You did schedule your classes so you have two days free each week again, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I e-mailed my class hours to Beth on Monday,” Holly assured her and glanced toward the ceiling when James called her name from upstairs.

“Oh, good, good,” Gladys said. “I’ll get them from her and work out how to handle the Sunnyside taxes. In the meantime, I should let you go. You need to leave for work soon, I’d guess.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Holly said good-bye and hung up, then headed upstairs to see what James wanted.

She found him in the bathroom, staring down at the clothes she’d stripped off earlier to take a shower. The black jeans, T-shirt, leather jacket and makeshift bandana all lay in a crumpled pile on the floor. Holly bit her lip, knowing he would want to know whose clothes they were. In his rush to get to work last night he hadn’t seemed to notice the borrowed clothes she was wearing, but he wasn’t in a rush now and there was no mistaking them for anything but a man’s clothes. He would want to know whose they were and how she’d got them.

“Jeez, Holl, you give me hell all the time for leaving my socks laying around instead of putting them in the hamper, and then you go and just leave all of your clothes where you take them off?” he asked with a combination of amusement and irritation. “I saw them there when I came in, but then forgot they were there and tripped on them on the way out of the shower. I could have knocked myself out or something if I’d hit my head on the tub or toilet. As it is I think I wrenched my shoulder catching myself on the counter.”

Holly let her breath out on a slow sigh. He hadn’t noticed they were a man’s clothes. She supposed it was hard to tell from a crumpled heap . . . maybe. Her gaze shifted to his shoulder as he rubbed at it with one hand, his expression pained. James was shirtless, wearing only his pajama bottoms. He had a nice chest, muscular enough to have some definition, but not overly so, and with just the slightest paunch. He was an attractive guy. Always had been. It had always made her wonder if she even would have caught his eye if they hadn’t been thrown together by the lives their parents had led.

Holly’s parents were archaeologists. She’d spent the first eighteen years of her life being dragged from one dig to another. Most of that time she’d lived in tents and had been homeschooled in camp . . . by James’s mother. His father had also been an archaeologist and a lifelong friend to her father. They’d worked together. James’s mother, a teacher before she’d married his father, had traveled with them to look after her and James and had schooled them both. Holly had grown up with James. They’d been each other’s only friends. He’d been her first kiss, her first date, her first everything and she was the same for him. Marriage had been the natural next step and it was going beautifully. They never argued, never disagreed. In fact, this was the closest thing to a fight they’d ever had.

“I’m sorry,” Holly murmured, stepping forward and urging him to turn his back to her. Once he did, she began to massage his shoulder. “How was work?”

“Oh, same old same old,” he muttered as she pressed her thumbs into the knotted muscles. “That feels good. A little gentler though please.”

Holly eased her grip, her eyes following the line of James’s shoulder to the curve of his neck. He had his head turned away and her position behind and a little to the side gave her a perfect view of the muscle that ran down from his jaw to under his clavicle . . . and the external jugular vein that ran over it. She could almost see it throbbing under the skin. Holly found herself staring at it as she worked the muscles of his shoulder and had to fight the urge to touch and kiss him there. This wasn’t the day they had sex. James was always exhausted after work and she was always in a rush to get out the door. It was no time to initiate something and she knew it, so just waited for the desire to recede.

But, instead of fading away as she’d expected, the hunger inside her seemed to grow stronger, and she couldn’t seem to drag her gaze away from that pulsing vein. Holly had the oddest urge to run her tongue along it. Bizarre, but she blamed it on the smells coming off of him. James smelled . . . well, yummy. He’d just showered, so she expected it was a new cologne he was using or something. Whatever it was, it was heady with a deep rich scent, almost tinny but in a pleasant way.

“God woman, are you trying to dig a hole in my shoulder?” James said on a pained laugh. “Gentler, please.”

Holly tore her gaze from his throat and glanced forward, freezing when she spotted herself in the mirror. Horror was rushing up within her when Holly noted movement behind her. In the next moment something snaked around her waist even as a palm slapped over her mouth. She was dragged away from James and out of the room so swiftly, it left her off balance and struggling to keep her feet under her as she was whisked down the stairs and through the house. It seemed like barely a blink later that she was being released in the garage and left to find her own balance as her captor stepped away.

Managing to keep her feet under her, Holly turned sharply on her attacker, not terribly surprised when she saw that it was Justin Bricker. The note he’d left in her car had said he’d be here when she needed him . . . and she needed him . . . or at least someone right now.

“I have fangs,” Holly said faintly, hardly able to believe what she’d seen when she’d caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror upstairs.

Justin merely nodded and eyed her warily.

For some reason that infuriated her. At least, she was suddenly terribly furious, and demanded, “What have you done to me?”

“Saved you,” he answered at once.

“For what?” she asked sharply. “Some sort of living death as a vampire?”

“You aren’t dead,” he assured her solemnly. “I turned you to save your life, not end it.”

“Vampires are dead,” she snapped.

“But you aren’t a vampire. You’re an immortal,” he said firmly.

“Buddy, you can call it a retort, but it’s still just an incinerator to burn bodies in,” she said grimly.

He blinked in confusion at that. “What?”

“It’s– Never mind,” she said wearily. “The point is, you can call it immortal all you want, but if it has fangs and sucks blood it’s a vampire.”

“But if it has fangs, sucks blood and still has a beating heart and a soul, it’s an immortal,” he countered.

Holly merely stared at him as the last part of his comment repeated itself through her head. So she still had a beating heart and a soul?

“You should know you do . . . at least the heart. It’s thundering up a storm right now. Surely you can feel it?”

Holly glanced to him sharply. “I thought you couldn’t read me.”

“I can’t,” he said with surprise.

“Then how did you know I was wondering about that?”

“Because you said it aloud,” he explained, his words gentle.

Holly was silent for a moment, concentrating on paying attention to her body. After a moment, she became aware of the frantic thudding coming from her chest, as well as a pulsing in her head. Her heart was pumping, thundering up a storm as he’d said. She was alive. The news was such a relief that Holly nearly fell over. At least her knees went weak and she would have fallen had he not reached out to steady her. Once she was solid again though, he released her as if she were a hot potato. Holly found it oddly insulting.

Clearing his throat, he moved several steps away and then turned to say, “I’ll need to train you.”

“Train me for what?” she asked, wary now herself.

“For survival,” he said grimly. “We have laws, rules, a certain conduct that is expected from us. Breaking the laws can see you punished and then beheaded.”

“Beheaded? Are you kidding me?” she asked with amazement. When he shook his head, she protested, “But that’s positively feudal.”

“We’re an old race,” he said with a shrug and then shifted impatiently and moved toward the door. “You’ll need to dress so we can go.”

Holly blinked and glanced down at herself, becoming aware for the first time that she was still wrapped only in a towel. She supposed she’d been so shocked to see those fangs protruding from her mouth in the bathroom mirror that she’d forgotten everything else. She found it surprising, though, that she hadn’t lost the towel when he’d grabbed her and dragged her down here. She was also rather surprised that James hadn’t noticed and chased after them.

“My husband—”

“Is in bed sleeping,” Justin assured her. “In his mind, he thanked you for the nice back massage and then crawled into bed.”

“How do you know that?” Holly asked.

“Because that’s the suggestion I put in his thoughts as I grabbed you when you were going to bite him.”

“You controlled James?” she asked, outrage seeping out in her voice.

“He can’t know about any of this,” Justin said with a shrug.

“But . . . he’s my husband. I shouldn’t keep something like this from him.”

“You’ll have to,” he said simply.

“But—”

“He’ll just think you’ve had a nervous breakdown and are crazy. That’s what you thought when I told you about us, isn’t it?” he pointed out.

Holly felt herself flush guiltily. It was exactly what she’d thought. That he was a madman. It seemed he wasn’t so mad after all. He had turned her. Did that mean she really had hit her head and fallen on scissors? She peered down, her hand moving slowly across the skin exposed above her towel as she wondered where the scissors had gone in.

“Is the turn why I can’t remember anything that happened?” she asked finally.

“I don’t know,” Justin admitted. “It shouldn’t be from the head wound since that’s healed.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and then he added, “Or at least the visible part of it is healed. Marguerite did once say that the turn can continue long after the turnee is up and walking again. That it takes care of the big things first and then continues on to the smaller, more time-consuming repairs over time afterward.” He shrugged as if that wasn’t important. “If the nanos are still working on the inner repairs, you could yet regain those memories.”

“What are nanos and who is Marguerite?” Holly asked at once.

Justin opened his mouth, closed it again, and then said, “Look I’ll explain those two things and anything else you want to know, but not here, not now, and not with you standing there in nothing but a towel. Now let’s go in and get you dressed. Then we can go somewhere and talk about anything and everything you want.”

“Why can’t we do it here?” she asked at once.

“Because your husband can’t know about this, and,” he added firmly when she started to speak, “Because I don’t have any blood here for you. And unless you want to do your first practice biting session on your husband, I suggest we go somewhere where I do have blood for you.”

“Why would I practice biting at all?” she asked, alarm creeping into her voice. “Back at the hotel you said we don’t feed on mortals anymore.”

“I said it was against the law except in emergencies,” he corrected. “The time may come when you’re miles or hours away from bagged blood and may be in desperate need. Maybe you had an accident, or your supply was destroyed. If anything like that happens, you’ll need to know how to feed off the hoof without killing the donor.”

“Off the . . .” Holly peered at him with horror as she grasped what she thought he meant. “Seriously? You call it that?”

Justin sighed impatiently. “Off the hoof, takeout, two-footed fast food—call it whatever you want so long as you learn how to do it properly and without causing harm to the mortal you feed on.”

“I would never—”

“Never say never,” he interrupted solemnly. “Now, can you please get dressed?”

Holly would have liked more questions answered, but now that she was aware of her scantily clad state, she was self-conscious. Getting dressed seemed a good idea. Nodding, she moved past him and slid inside, aware that he was on her heels as she crossed the kitchen. That didn’t surprise her, but she was a little surprised when he trailed her upstairs as well. When he then tried to follow her into the bedroom, she stopped dead and turned to hiss, “I can manage on my own from here.”

“What if he wakes up?”

“So?” she asked with irritation. “He’s my husband, he’s seen me dress before.” Well, not really, she acknowledged. Mostly she took her clothes with her into the bathroom and dressed there, or used the closet door as a shield. She wasn’t comfortable being completely naked, even with her husband. He might notice the cellulite, or a stretch mark, or her muffin top. That was also why she insisted on the lights being out when they had sex.

Much to her relief, Justin backed off and let her enter the room alone. Tiptoeing now, Holly crossed to the closet and pulled out work clothes. She had agreed to talk to Justin mostly because of the promise of blood. She wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of having to consume blood, but she didn’t want to risk not having it and running around biting people willy-nilly. Sadly, Holly wasn’t sure whether she would have bitten James or not, but certainly she’d had some strange thoughts going through her head as she’d eyed the pulsing vein in his neck. Kissing it had been her first thought, but that had been followed by the idea of licking it like it was a lollipop. Holly had never had the urge to lick his throat before or any other pulsing vein on the man. She couldn’t say that she might not have licked and then bitten into the vein. All she’d been aware of was that she was terribly hungry and he’d smelled soooo good.

He still did, Holly thought, glancing to the sleeping man in the bed as she stopped at the closet. She could smell him from there, a distance of at least eight feet. That was new. Allergies had plagued her from childhood on and left her sniffling most of the time. She’d always been the last to smell anything, including skunk. Now she could smell her husband from across the room.

“Weird,” she muttered, and firmly turned her back on him to consider what she should wear. In the end, it wasn’t a hard choice. Holly didn’t have an extensive wardrobe. She had a pair of black pants, a pair of navy blue pants, two pairs of jeans, half a dozen T-shirts in various colors and four blouses, one white, two cream, and one red that she had received from her mom for Christmas and hadn’t yet had the courage to wear. Holly snatched up the red one now and her black pants, then walked over to the dresser beside the bed.

Laying the clothes on the foot of the bed, she opened the drawer and pulled out some standard white cotton panties. She tugged them on under the towel, noting that they fit a little loosely. Thinking she must have grabbed an older stretched-out pair, she shrugged and next grabbed a bra. It was also standard white, and Holly finally dropped the towel, surprised when she had to grab the panties to keep them from sliding right off with the towel. Jeez, they were really loose.

She’d probably lost some water weight while unconscious the last two days, she decided, but then glanced down at herself. As a rule, Holly avoided actually looking at herself. She didn’t like seeing the lumps and bumps and the muffin top. It was depressing as hell and made her feel unattractive.

She didn’t see any of those lumps and bumps now though, and her usual muffin top was missing. Her stomach had the slightest roundness to it and she definitely had hips and a waist. She would never make it on the runway where stick figures walked in high heels, but . . .

“Damn, I look good,” Holly breathed as she actually braved appraising herself in the dresser mirror. She had the figure of a movie starlet of old, Marilyn Monroe and women of her ilk, who looked like women and not like flat-chested boys as seemed to be the rage now that thin was in.

This was not the loss of some water weight while unconscious for two days. This was a full body remodel. There wasn’t a spot of cellulite or even a pimple. Her skin was like porcelain, and her figure perfection.

“Damn,” she breathed again, hands rising to slide over her stomach and then down over her hips. This was . . . awesome! Grinning, Holly quickly tugged on the bra she’d retrieved, noting that it still mostly fit, though she had to do it up at the tightest fastenings rather than the loosest now.

Still smiling widely, Holly turned to the bed to collect the blouse and pants and then paused as James chose that moment to murmur in his sleep. He followed that up with turning onto his back, and tossing the sheets and blankets aside so that he lay sprawled on the bed in only a pair of boxers. It wasn’t the sight of him in his drawers that made her halt, but the wave of James-smell that rolled over her. Not that he stunk: he had taken that shower just before lying down. That wasn’t the smell that crashed over her like a wave. It was something else, a cocktail of strange scents she’d never smelled before yet seemed somehow familiar. Her senses were obviously a bit keener than before, and Holly suspected what she was smelling was pheromones, hormones, skin and that coppery something that had smelled so yummy earlier. Tinny and . . .

“Crap,” she muttered. It was blood. She could smell James’s blood. How the hell could she scent it through his skin? And why was the aroma so damned delicious all of a sudden? She’d never even noticed the odor of blood before or that it was especially attractive. She certainly had never enjoyed the taste on the rare occasion when she’d stuck a cut finger in her mouth. Now . . . damn, but her mouth was watering at the scent of it and she was fighting the urge to crawl up the length of her husband on the bed. She could actually see herself sinking her teeth into several hot spots on his body along the way—behind his knee, his thigh, his groin, his wrists, inner elbow, his neck. They were all spots she was pretty sure housed major veins or arteries . . . and Holly had no idea how she knew that.

She’d like to think it was knowledge from some long forgotten anatomy class she’d taken, but the truth was that, like heat seeping through a part of the wall where the insulation was thinnest, those spots were where she could sense the smell was strongest and where most of his body heat seemed concentrated. It was where the veins were closest to the surface and easily accessible.

Realizing she was licking her lips, Holly forced her gaze away from James and picked up her blouse to quickly tug it on. It was as she buttoned the blouse that she became aware of a soft thudding sound coming from somewhere in the room. Pausing, she glanced around, trying to find the source, her perplexed gaze finally shifting to the bed. Tilting her head, she stared at it, listening. Yes, it was definitely coming from there.

What the devil was it? She wondered and knelt to peer under the bed, but there was nothing there that would make that slow, steady sound. Still on her knees, she raised her head and peered the length of the mattress and her husband’s body on it. The sound seemed to be coming from somewhere by him. Without thinking, Holly found herself crawling onto the bed from the floor, and then moving up over her husband on her hands and knees, ears straining and nose working as the tinny smell cried out to her. The sound was loudest when her head was over his chest and she paused there, listening for a moment before she realized it was his heart. She could hear his heart beating . . . pumping all that lovely blood through his body, she thought. Vaguely aware of a shifting in her jaws, she lowered her head. That lovely slightly tinny smelling, rich red—

Holly squawked when she was suddenly grabbed around the waist and lifted off the bed. James murmured sleepily at the sound, but didn’t wake up, she saw, before she was carried from the room. The moment the door closed behind them, she was unceremoniously dumped on the hall floor and cloth fell over her head.

“Dress,” Justin Bricker ordered grimly.

Holly pulled the cloth off her head, recognizing the black pants she’d laid on the foot of the bed and never got around to donning. Raising her head, she scowled at Justin. “You could have just said something instead of acting like some barbarian and snatching me up. I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Your fangs were out. You were about to bite him,” Bricker said grimly. “Now dress, or I just might let you bite him. Then you can explain why you did it to his corpse.”

Holly scowled at him briefly, but then stuck her legs out on the hall floor and quickly tugged on her dress pants. She had to wiggle her butt on the floor to get them up over her hips. She stood then to do them up, tossing him the occasional scowl as she did and then stared at the pants themselves when she noted how they now hung on her. Like her panties, they were too big, of course. They would have to do, though. Everything she owned was the same size.

“Here.”

She glanced up to see Justin holding out her belt. “Where did you—?”

“Your closet,” he interrupted and when she opened her mouth to ask when, he said, “We’re fast. I nipped in and back while you were gawking at your pants.”

Holly just stared at him. She’d only looked down for a matter of seconds. Surely he hadn’t “nipped” in and out that quickly?

“Put it on and we can go get you blood. Bagged blood,” he added dryly.

“Bagged?” she asked with a grimace. The thought of bagged blood simply didn’t hold much appeal, not like the smell of James had just now.

“Yes, bagged,” he said dryly and then his lips quirked. “Save a man, bite a bag.”

Holly shook her head at what she supposed was intended as a joke and turned her attention to threading the belt through her pant loops as her mind wandered. She hated to admit it, but she might have been going to bite James . . . and she should be very ashamed of that, she knew. Instead, she was disappointed that Justin had stopped her. How bad was that? Apparently, she wasn’t handling this whole vampire/immortal thing well. She did need the training. At least she did if he could teach her to control herself. She also, apparently, needed the blood he said he would get for her. She didn’t want to bite her husband. Well, part of her did, but the still human part knew it was wrong and didn’t.

That thought made Holly sigh unhappily. She was thinking of herself as not quite human anymore. But Justin had said she was alive still and had a soul, so surely, she was still human . . . wasn’t she?

“Let’s go.” Justin turned and started downstairs.

Holly stared after him briefly, and then heaved a resigned breath and followed. In truth, she didn’t feel like she had much choice. It seemed obvious she couldn’t stay here without risking feeding off her husband, possibly to death. That thought made her wonder how much blood was too much to take. Would she be able to tell when she should stop? And if so, would she be able to stop when she should?

Holly fretted over all of this as she followed Justin downstairs and out the front door. She expected him to have a vehicle of his own, so was surprised when he led the way to her own car.

“We’re taking my car?” she asked, pausing in front of the old beater.

“It’s how I got here from the hotel. I followed you,” he announced and opened the passenger door for her.

Holly walked reluctantly to the open door, then paused and turned to peer at him with sudden understanding. “You made the taxi driver let me go into the house.”

“You’re welcome,” he said for an answer and turned to walk around and get into the driver’s side.

“Thank you,” Holly mumbled and slid into the car to watch him dig her keys out of a side pocket of . . . her purse? She hadn’t noticed him grabbing that on the way out. It must be when he’d done it, but she’d been so distracted with her own thoughts she’d apparently missed it.

Holly shrugged and simply waited for him to get in. She had no problem with his driving. If anything, she’d prefer it at that point. She was a bit shaken up by everything at the moment, a fine tremor running through her body, and was happy to leave the driving to him.

“Seat belt.”

Holly glanced over with disbelief when Justin muttered that as he got behind the steering wheel. “Are you serious?”

He peered to her with surprise. “Well, yeah. It’s safer.”

“Safer how? I’m a vampire,” she pointed out. “I can’t die.”

“You’re an immortal, not a vampire. And of course you can die. Everyone can die. Even us,” he assured her.

Holly goggled at him. “Do you even hear yourself? Immortal by definition means never dying.”

“Yes, well, it’s something of a misnomer then,” he muttered, starting the engine. “You can die. You’re just harder to kill . . . and you’ll never age. Or get sick, and you’ll heal from nearly every wound.”

“Then how can we die?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Beheading. Or burning. We’re very flammable.”

“Hot stuff,” Holly murmured, unsure where the words came from. It was like a memory, but not . . . just the words echoing in her head. She glanced to Justin, surprised to find him staring at her with an odd expression on his face. “What?”

He hesitated, but then shook his head. “Nothing.”

Holly peered at him silently for a moment, and then leaned her head back. Her stomach was killing her. It had started with a mild gnawing sensation earlier, but now it was like someone had poured acid into her stomach. Or like a million little piranha were eating her alive from the inside out. And the shaky sensation she’d had earlier had turned into full-on tremors. In truth, she felt sick as a dog, but he’d said they didn’t get sick, so Holly supposed this was something else . . . hunger maybe. Despite being away from James, she could still smell the tinny sweetness of blood in her nostrils . . . and she wanted it.