Page 124 of Bleed

I lean closer to the window, squinting into the darkness. The movement disturbs Ozzy, and he lifts his head from the windowsill, blinking sleepily before glancing outside. He reacts instantly, surging to his feet, his back arching as a vicious hiss tears from his throat.

Well, shit– he sees it, too.

So unless we’re sharing a hallucination, someone is definitely out there.

I look out the window again, and the figure hasn’t moved. It stands motionless between the trees, and the longer I stare, the more familiar that silhouette becomes.

I’ve seen it before. Outside my apartment. Across the street from Cabo Cantina. Watching.

A cold prickle crawls over my skin.

Vincent.

My stomach swoops as dread curls in my gut.

How the fuck did he find me here?

And, more importantly, how the hell did he get onto the property?

Considering James is the regional king of vampires, you’d think he’d have this place locked down like Fort Knox.

I blink hard, but the figure remains standing there in the darkness, eerily still. And as I keep staring at it, something inside me finally snaps.

Maybe it’s the last three days finally catching up with me. Maybe it’s Elliott disappearing after almost killing me. Maybe it’s finding out I could potentially be tied to the infuriating bastard for eternity while he apparently can’t even be bothered to check whether or not I’m alive. Whatever it is, every ounce of fear I’ve felt over the last few days suddenly burns away beneath a white-hot surge of anger.

Fuck this.

I shove out of the chair, tea sloshing over the edge of my mug as I slam it down onto the table and charge for the door.

This is probably a terrible idea.

Actually, scratch that.

This is definitely a terrible idea.

But even knowing full well how terrible it is, I can’t find it in me to give a single fuck. I’m done hiding from this asshole.

The hallway is dark when I burst through the door, my bare feet slapping against the polished floor as I hurry toward the staircase. My pulse ratchets higher as I start to descend, taking the steps two at a time, adrenaline burning through my veins by the time I reach the foyer.

Cool night air hits my skin as I wrench open the front door, charging outside in my pajama shorts and tank top. Probably should’ve grabbed a jacket. But again, zero fucks given. I descend the wide stone steps and cross the circular driveway, taking off across the lawn. The grass is damp beneath my feet as I stalk toward the trees, morning dew slicking the blades.

“Hey!” I shout into the darkness. “Yeah, I’m talking to you, asshole!”

Even though there’s no response, I keep moving, my eyes locked on the grove of trees ahead. Of-fucking-course, the silhouette I spotted between the oaks is now gone, the coward too chicken-shit to actually face me.

“You’ve been stalking me for weeks, and now you’re shy?” I huff as I reach the treeline and plunge into the shadows. Branches rustle overhead, leaves crunching softly beneath my feet as I scan the darkness, searching between the trunks.

Nothing.

“This is what you wanted, right?” I yell, my head snapping back and forth wildly as I slow to a stop. “You wanted my attention?”

My pulse pounds in my ears as I wait for something to jump out at me, again realizing how colossally stupid I’m being.

Vincent is a vampire, and I’m a five-foot-nothing human who required a blood transfusion a few days ago. I don’t even have shoes on, for fucks sake. But apparently my survival instincts packed their shit and left sometime around the time Elliott Faulkner entered my life.

“I’m right fucking here!” I yell, throwing my arms wide. “Get out here and face me like a man!”

My voice echoes back at me, followed by a deafening silence. Then something shifts between the trees, and I freeze as a figure separates itself from the shadows, tall and broad-shouldered.