“So you decided to join Slayer Inc.,” I conclude.
“My grandmother died when I was twelve. Six years after my parents had been killed. Slayer Inc. showed up at the cemetery and invited me to train. I was more than willing.” He squeezes his hands into fists. “I can’t wait to graduate and track down that vampire who killed my parents. He’s going to wish he had never been born.”
His anger is so fierce, so raw, that suddenly I’m scared. I try to get up off the log, but he grabs my arm again, pulling me back down to him. “Don’t go,” he pleads. “Not after I’ve shared this with you. You’re the only person I’ve told and ...” He trails off, looking at me helplessly. “Now I’m feeling a little freaked out, to be honest.”
“Oh, Corbin,” I say, my heart going out to him. He acts so hard and cocky on the outside, but he’s hiding so much pain. I reach out to give him a comforting hug.
It’s all the invitation he needs. He takes my head in his hands and draws me to him, claiming my mouth as his own. There’s frantic sadness in his crushing kiss. A need to escape the memories he’s long buried deep inside.
But I can’t do this. No matter how much I want to help him. I’m not that girl anymore. The one who would lie and cheat and betray. I belong to Jareth now. And that means something to me.
So I struggle to free myself, but his grip is strong and desperate and even my vampire strength is not helping here. His hands fumble with my blouse and I try to swat him away. All I can picture is Jareth, stepping into the clearing, disappointment and horror written on his face as he sees me and misunderstands.
I need to end this. Now.
“Corbin, stop!” I beg. But he doesn’t stop. He’s lost in his world of pain and anger and I hear a tear as he manages to rip my shirt.
I swallow hard. There’s only one way to stop him now.
Pushing away my guilt, my hands fumble for the bandage, ripping it from his neck. My fangs slide out of my mouth and sink into his flesh ...
And then it comes. The head rush of sweet metallic that nearly knocks me over from its ecstasy. Blood floods my eager mouth and I gulp mouthful after mouthful, as fast as I can. I’m warm, I’m fulfilled. I’m everything I ever wanted to be in my entire life.
“Oh God,” he groans from underneath me. “Oh ...”
He’s enjoying this as much as me—maybe even more so. The same guy who, just minutes before, declared his parents to be sick monsters is enjoying the very thing he condemned them for. This is so not good.
I feel his life force pounding inside of me. So strong and stubborn and powerful, just like Corbin himself. No wonder the vampires of old used to drain their victims dry. To drink in someone’s entire being—there couldn’t be anything more delicious.
A moment later, I force myself to withdraw my fangs, though I’m still desperate for more. Between yesterday and today, Corbin’s lost a huge amount of blood and another sip will likely kill him. And then I’ll be just as guilty as the vampire who killed his parents.
And I’m not like that. I don’t even drink human blood. I’m a vegetarian vampire.
Or, at least, I was.
Suddenly, I realize I’ll never go back to synthetic again. Not now that I’ve had a taste of the real thing. In fact, all I can think of, even now as I’m buzzing with blood, is when I’ll be able to get my next drink.
I feel a little sick to my stomach.
Corbin collapses onto the forest floor, panting and shivering. Guilt washes over me as I look down at his quivering frame. Gone is the power and arrogance and anger—I’ve sucked it all out of him—leaving him a shadow of his former self.
But he’ll soon recover, I assure myself, and he won’t have any recollection that anything ever happened. And he can go on with his life with the same self-righteous indignation, graduate from Slay School, become a full-fledged slayer, and go exact his revenge against vampire kind.
And I’ll take his secret to the grave.
15
I’m up most of the night, high on blood and feeling as guilty as all hell, totally unable to sleep. I keep thinking about Corbin and hoping he’s okay. After my little ... snack, I managed to replace the bandage right as he was regaining consciousness. He groggily stumbled back toward school, saying he didn’t feel that well and needed a little nap. I followed him at a distance, making sure he got back okay, though not sure what I’d do if he suddenly collapsed in front of me. Drag him back to the infirmary? They’d only ask what happened and, with my current inability to tell a lie, that interview could very well be my death sentence.
Luckily he managed to get home and I headed back to my own room as well, feeling disgusted with myself. I never, in a million years, when I signed up to become a vampire considered things ending up like this. I’d envisioned myself becoming an all-powerful princess of the night, living in the lap of luxury with a hot blood mate by my side. Not a disgusting monster who robbed innocent people of their blood and then used magic to cover it up. It all seemed so perfect back then—so innocuous: modern vampires, living civilly in peaceable covens, drinking donated blood like so much fine wine.
But what they don’t teach you in vamp school is underneath that oh-so-placid surface lies something a lot darker. No matter what the PR firms try to tell you, vampires are not “just like us.” And regardless of the strict rules put into place by organizations like Slayer Inc., the monster inside is still lurking, ready to rear its ugly head at a moment’s notice.