Page 3 of Blood Submission
Chapter3
Dante stoodin the center of an empty courtyard. It belonged to a run-down apartment complex that had seen better days before the neighborhood had gone to shit. He stared up at the third floor window. It was the only window that still had a light on at this time of night.
The rest of his meal was in there. He could smellher.
He licked his lips, tasting the remnants of the human female he’d had for breakfast. She’d tasted unlike anything he’d ever had before, and his body had reacted harshly, but not unpleasantly. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was very nearly starved of blood. To the point that his skin felt dry and loose on his bones, and his muscles ached with a weakness he hadn’t felt since he was a lowly human. So long ago, he was surprised he even remembered.
He heard a shout to his left. His head snapped around and his gaze narrowed in on a middle-aged human male swinging a bloated trash bag at a loose dog. The dog yelped, skittering away with its belly dragging the ground and its tail between itslegs.
Lifting his face to the wind, Dante scented the male. His parched throat immediately began to burn in response. In less than the space of a heartbeat, he crossed the expanse of the courtyard and stood in the human’s path. The dog, an ugly little thing with brown and white fur, began to bark crazily at his sudden appearance. Dante smiled in amusement as the ridge of wiry hair on its back rose up into a full mohawk. Ignoring the little beast, he focused on the human that stood wide-eyed and frozen with fright in front ofhim.
Dante knew it was fright and not just surprise. He could smell the sour stench of fear hanging heavy in the chilly air. The asshole should be frightened. Dante had a thing about humans that thought they were better than other creatures.
Without thinking twice about it, he swung out with his right hand and broke the human’s neck, then yanked the body toward him and sank his fangs into the warm flesh. He’d have to drink quickly, before the heart stopped beating completely, but that had never been a problem forhim.
Dante managed to take only three large swallows before he dropped the corpse at his feet. Leaning over, he gagged, spitting out the blood still in his mouth. The dog, who’d crept closer to sniff his pant leg, jumped back quickly out of theway.
Dante straightened and took some deep breaths, fighting down the nausea. He eyed the dead guy at his feet. Though obviously not an animal lover, he didn’t look the type to have a meth cocktail in his veins. But those looks were deceiving, because he’d tasted absolutelyvile.
The little dog sat down next to the deceased human. It wasn’t nearly such an ass kicker now that it had gotten his scent, or maybe because he’d protected it from the bastard human. Dante ignored the mutt as he tried to clean his mouth of the disgusting blood. But every few seconds, it would raise its soulful brown eyes to his face and whine. It was a pitiful sound coming from such a tough little dude. He stared down at it, and the little beast stared back without blinking. Squatting down, he held out his hand for the dog to sniff, which it did from a cautious distance. After a moment’s hesitation, it stood and took a small step towardhim.
“Are you gonna gnaw on me if I pet you, little man?” Dante’s voice was barely audible, his vocal cords not yet healed. He switched to a different way of communicating.
I won’t hurtyou.
The dog came another step closer and peered up at him with its sad little face. Carefully, so as not to accidentally harm it, he rubbed its silkyears.
A bizarre feeling crept over him, one he tried hard not to interpret. He knew he must look to be a monster, yet this little guy didn’t seem to care in the least. It didn’t even care that he’d just killed someone.
Or maybe it did. But dogs, like vampires, tended to be realists. And though it was giving him its finest sad face, it seemed to know that its best bet was to befriend the one that was still alive and could possibly help it find something better to eat than what was in that trashbag.
Dante gave it one last good ear rub, silently wishing it a good hunt. Then he stood and walked away without a backward glance, back to the window he’d been watching. When he got to the same spot he’d been in before, he felt something against his foot and looked down. The little dog had followed and was now sitting beside his boot, staring up at that same window. The barest wisp of a smile crossed Dante’s features, then he reached down and picked the little fucker up and tucked it under hisarm.
“You’re lucky I can climb one-handed.” The dog probably weighed in at a good forty pounds, but he barely noticed the extra weight, scaling the side of the building with ease. When he reached the window, he dug the toes of his boots into the worn siding and gripped the sill with the same hand that was holding the dog to hold steady. With the other, he tested the window. It was unlocked. As he slid it open, a fat orange cat waddled out of the kitchen and sat in the middle of the living area to silently watch him with its owlish topaz eyes. A muffled noise came from the kitchen, and the cat flicked itstail.
“My phone. Where the hell is my phone?” A female’s shrill voice came from inside the apartment, and a moment later, she rushed into the room, pulling up short at the sight of Dante hovering outside the window. She had dark hair and skin, and appeared to have just gotten home, as she still had a coat on over her short black dress.
Catching her gaze with his, Dante reached out to her mind. “Invite me in,” he commanded.
She dropped the phone in her hand, her eyes as large as the cat’s, who sat watching the scene go down with idle curiosity. “Come in,” she said in a monotone voice, then stood aside to await his next command.
He lowered the dog in first. Its tail immediately started wagging as it went over to the cat to say hello.
Dante climbed in after him and slid the window shut again. He breathed in deeply, discerning and cataloging the different smells. The scent of the woman he’d tracked there was much stronger now, which meant he’d been correct in guessing that this was where she dwelled.
It was a small apartment. From where he stood just inside the main room, littered with mismatched furniture straight out of a thrift store, he could see the doorway to what appeared to be a small galley kitchen. The entry door to the apartment was directly across from him and a little to his left. To his right were three more doors. One he could see was a bathroom. A pile of clothes lay on the floor. That was where the overriding smell of blood was coming from. His mouth watered and his gums burned as his fangs descended, his stomach clenching with need. Leaving the animals to do their thing, he headed toward one of the other doors, of which he could only assume was a bedroom. He needed more of this human.
As he passed the female that had invited him in, he reached out with one large hand and snapped her neck with a quick twist. He had no interest in feeding from her. She reeked of alcohol and pills.
Walking past the kitchen, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye—a human limb. A bare, olive-skinned leg, actually. And attached to the leg was the human woman he was looking for. She was passed out cold on the floor in front of the open refrigerator. An unexpected hunger that had nothing to do with feeding assaulted Dante as his eyes traveled from the arch of her petite foot up the curve of her calf to her shapely thigh. It disappeared underneath a sleeping garment that looked to be nothing more than a long T-shirt. Her other leg was bent underneath her and her long dark hair hid her face, damp tendrils of it sticking to her cheek and forehead.
For one frozen second, Dante feared she was already dead. Squatting down on his haunches next to her, he pressed his fingers to the pulse point on her throat, paused his breathing, and listened.
He heard her heart contract and release at the same time he felt a reedy pulse. Removing his hand, he rested his forearms on his thighs as he regarded her prone form. Funny, but now that he’d found her, he was in no rush to finish her off. So it appeared he had a choice to make: he could go ahead and assuage his thirst for this one, and then go hunt for another that tasted as good as she did. Or, he could keep her alive and have the most amazing blood he’d ever tasted ready and available whenever he wanted a sip. At least until he got home. Dante scratched his chin. It wouldn’t be hard to bring her with him. Perhaps he’d even keep her for a while.
Decisions, decisions.
Glancing toward the kitchen doorway, he found the animals sitting side by side in silent companionship, waiting for his decision.
