Page 139 of Bleed

“You heard her,” he snarls, pointing at the door again. “Get the fuck out of my shop.”

Vincent sighs, shaking his head condescendingly. “You humans make everything unnecessarily difficult.”

The air shifts as he moves with a burst of vampire speed– not toward me, but the person nearest to him. A blur streaks through my peripheral vision, then a startled yelp tears from Devin’s throat.

I whip around to see Vincent’s fist tangled in Devin’s hair, gripping the back of his head and wrenching it sideways at a sickening angle. Devin goes rigid, his face contorting in pain as both hands fly instinctively to Vincent’s wrist.

My blood turns to ice, fear tightening my throat like a noose.

“Don’t,” I breathe.

Vincent stares me down in challenge. “Then come with me.”

My pulse pounds in my ears, so loud it drowns out the music still playing through the shop’s speakers. “Let him go.”

“Come here, and I will.”

“Bex, don’t,” Ronnie growls under his breath.

Vincent tightens his grip, and Devin makes a strangled sound through clenched teeth as his neck stretches another fraction, my stomach curling in on itself.

“I could remove his head before either of you took a single step,” Vincent says calmly. “Would you like to test that?”

The image flashes through my mind before I can stop it.

Blood. Bone. Devin’s lifeless body hitting the floor.

I’ve been around enough vampires to know that Vincent isn’t bluffing. Human life is largely inconsequential to them– they’ll take it in an instant, consequences be damned.

“No,” I huff, pushing past Ronnie.

“Bex!” he barks.

“It’s fine.”

It isn’t.

Not even fucking close.

But when Devin’s terrified eyes find mine, I know what I have to do. There isn’t any other choice but to stop this madness and force myself to put one foot in front of the other.

My hands are shaking, so I curl them into fists and keep them pinned at my sides as I cross the shop. Every instinct I possess is screaming at me to run in the opposite direction, but I keep moving until only a few feet of distance separate us.

Vincent grins like the smug bastard he is.

I fucking hate him.

He waits until I’m close, then releases Devin with a violent shove. His body slams into the wall hard enough to rattle the framed artwork above him, a pained grunt punching from his throat as he crumples sideways.

Relief hits me so hard it’s dizzying.

Then Vincent reaches for me.

His hand is inches from my arm when the shop door suddenly explodes inward. Glass shatters with a deafening crack, spraying across the floor as something streaks inside too fast for my eyes to track. I flinch, throwing an arm up on instinct– but before I can even process what’s happening, a pair of strong arms clamps around my waist from behind and yanks me backward.

I know who it is before I even see him. Before I hear his voice or catch his scent or feel the familiar breadth of his chest against my back. Every nerve ending in my body seems to recognize Elliott Faulkner.

I sag against him on instinct, my back molding to his chest as one arm bands around my waist. His other hand splays across my stomach to hold me firmly against him, and the tension that’s had every muscle locked tight since Vincent walked through the door instantly loosens.