Wicked Kiss Page 70

“I don’t know how long I can deal with this, Jordan. I’m losing it. It’s scaring the hell out of me.”

She got to her feet and took a couple steps closer to me. Before I knew it I’d risen to my feet as well, unconsciously drawn to her soul.

“You’re not kissing me,” she said uneasily, holding up her hands to try to keep me back.

“Trust me, Jordan, you’re the last person on earth I’d ever want to kiss. And it’s not just because you’re a girl. I’m sure Stephen would rather change you himself, but if he kisses you he’ll—” I swallowed hard. “He’ll kill you.”

“Stephen...” she whispered, then shuddered. “Have you kissed anyone?”

I nodded. “Two.”

“And did you kill them?” she asked breathlessly.

“Not yet.”

She started to tremble. “Oh, my God. This isn’t happening.”

My vision was narrowing by the second. Jordan had stepped away from me, but the scent of her soul was driving me crazy. I watched her like a wolf might watch a small, scared rabbit in the forest.

She attempted to look brave and assured. “Just...try to control yourself. You’re stronger than this!”

My thoughts were spinning away from me like the tornado in  The Wizard of Oz. I tried to grasp onto them before they all blew away. Then something important occurred to me. “Wait. I wasn’t hungry when I was unconscious. It’s only when I’m awake.”

Her eyes were wild, panicked. “You want me to knock you out?”

I nodded crazily. “Do it.”

And then Jordan disappeared and all I could see was her soul—shiny and tempting. The cure to my pain, the answer to my hunger. She scrambled for something as I drew closer, closer. Then I grabbed her shoulder, my right hand still useless, and pulled her closer.

She screamed, and swung something toward me.

Sharp pain slammed through my head as she successfully rendered me unconscious.

* * *

My head was screaming when I woke up this time. But along with the pain, a shaky clarity had returned.

My hunger, however, hadn’t gone anywhere.

“If I hit you again you’re going to get a concussion,” Jordan warned. “A fractured skull. Or a clot. Or an aneurism. Or...something really bad!”

I groaned, and looked across the room at her crouched in the opposite corner, clutching the brick tightly. “Or maybe I’ll get amnesia and forget all about this.”

The pinprick of light through the tiny window told me it was still day—but the sunlight was fading. I hadn’t been out for long this time. One of the fluorescent lights set into the ceiling flickered now, as if ready to go out completely. It cast spooky shadows through the room.

“He hasn’t checked on us again,” she said, casting a furtive glance at the door.

“He will.”

“When?”

“When it’s done. When you’re changed. When I’ve...fed.” The words tasted as bad as they sounded. There was a security camera up in the far corner I hadn’t noticed before. I gestured at it. “He’s watching us.”

Jordan moved into the camera’s line of sight and gave it the finger. “Screw you, Stephen! I hate you for this!”

“Ditto,” I murmured, then cringed. “Ow, my head.”

Her expression now was fierce and determined. Her anger toward Stephen had given her some extra strength. “Stay right where you are. I’ll use this again.”

I flicked a wary glance at her and her brick. “Feel free. But that’s only a temporary answer. My hunger...it’s worse than ever. I need to feed.”

“Not on me.”

“I don’t think there’s going to be a choice soon. If I go into stasis here...a brick’s not going to stop me.” I fought to come up with a plan of action, but I was tired and weary, hungry and in pain. I didn’t want to give up, but I was worried my strength wouldn’t last much longer.

“What about those angels and demons Stephen mentioned? You know them?”

“You could say that.”

“Where are they?”

“Not here.”

I longed for Bishop to come bursting in here in a blaze of glory. I’d never been the damsel in distress type, the girl who dreamed of a guy sweeping in to save her in the nick of time like they did in corny movies. Besides, if I looked at this objectively, I wasn’t the damsel in distress in this situation—Jordan was. I was the scary thing hiding in the shadows ready to leap out and devour her.

“I always knew,” Jordan whispered.

I stayed in the opposite corner to her, a good ten feet away from the orbit, wishing it would make things easier. “Knew what?”

“That there were things bigger than me in this city. Supernatural things. I always believed.” She actually smiled, a pained, scared expression. “My mom, she likes to go to psychics for readings. Does it every week. I think she does it instead of going to a shrink. With a psychic, she can blame all of her problems on otherworldly activity. But I don’t think she really knows it’s all real.”

“But you do.”

She hugged the brick to her chest as if it was a comforting teddy bear. “I felt it. I always thought I was a little bit psychic. Like, with ghosts and stuff. Nobody believed me when I was a kid, so I stopped talking about it. It faded to nothing for ages. Lately, though, it’s been getting worse.”