Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel 1)

“You’re not dead yet, are you?”

She scoffed. “Just because you killed him doesn’t mean you’ll kill me. Not right away, at least. You might want me for something.”

Want me for something.

An unfamiliar heat blossomed inside me. Yes. I very much did. But not for killing.

I shoved the thought to the back of my mind. Now wasn’t the time for that.

“Why are you tracking the murderer?” I asked.

Her lips tightened, and I could see the thoughts behind her eyes. She was debating how much to tell me. Clever. I trafficked in information as much as anything, and the wise ones knew it was dangerous to tell me things.

Except…

I couldn’t hurt her.

At the mere thought of it, the strangest sensation of protectiveness roared inside of me, a beast bigger than my need to feed. Bigger than anything.

“Why?” I demanded, suddenly more interested than I had been.

“The police think I killed him, and I need to clear my name.” Surprise flashed over her face, almost as if she couldn’t believe she’d told me that.

“You live in the human world?”

“I do.”

“But…why?” Why would any supernatural ever do that? I couldn’t imagine hiding what I was.

“We’re not here to talk about me.”

“Oh, but I’d like to.” And I meant it. I wanted to know everything about her, even as I marveled at this new interest. I hadn’t been interested in much of anything in years.

But her…

She ignited it.

I tried again to compel her to look at me, but she didn’t.

I still couldn’t control her.

She watched the space just to the left of me, her muscles tense and her expression wary. “You’ve been dancing around this. Just give me some answers.”

She was right. The frustration seemed to bubble inside her, and I didn’t want to drive her off.

Anyway, I was interested in the murder, too.

“I don’t know who killed the man. I was there just after it happened.” Her arrival on the scene had driven me off, in fact. I’d left before I’d seen her coming, once I’d sensed someone else was arriving on the scene. If I’d seen her, I would have stuck around longer. Instead, her vision had snared me once I was several streets over, dragging me back to the scene of the crime—or at least dragging my consciousness back. Such interest in another was uncharacteristic of me.

“There’s really nothing you can tell me?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Because I find that very hard to believe.”

“Check his organs. See if anything is missing.” I hadn’t had time to do it myself.

Confusion twisted her features, and her eyes darkened with fear. “What? Missing? There was no blood or wound.”

“There doesn’t need to be.”

“You’re not talking about some long-ago surgery, are you?”