When his tongue parts my lips, all rational thoughts going flying away to the full moon.
He groans as his tongue tangles with mine, his hand still gripping the doorknob. “I’m not lying,” he whispers against my lips. “You can feel that I’m not, right?”
I bob my head up and down, realizing what he’s doing—using our shared magic as a truth detector.
“I’m not as big a manwhore as you think,” he promises, kissing me once, twice, three times. “I just wanted you to think I was.”
“Why?” I asked dazedly with my eyes shut.
“Because it kept me from going after what I want.”
“Oh.” I’m probably going to sound like an idiot for not knowing, but since I can’t figure it out, I have to ask, “What do you want?”
He sighs, his breath dusting my lips. “Oh, Eva, if only you could see yourself like everyone else does.”
“I do,” I tell him. “Trust me; I know what I am better than anyone else does.”
“No, you don’t.” And then he kisses me again.
And kisses me.
And kisses me …
Holy melting pots, why do his kisses have to be so wonderful?
Even when zombie Ryleigh keeps banging on the door, his kisses make me feel dazedly content. Deep down, though, I know it’s probably the worst time ever to be making out in the closet with the guy I’ve had a crush on forever, especially since he doesn’t know I’m more than likely seducing him with my sex goddess powers. I should stop the kiss.
I need to stop this!
But my lips have a mind of their own and continue moving against his. My legs are dirty little traitors, too, looping around Hunter’s waist.
Letting out a groan, he holds me up with one hand while his other hand remains on the doorknob. Then he starts grinding against me, causing a wonderful sensation to flutter inside my tummy. A sensation that has me craving more and to the point of tearing his shirt off to get it.
That thought snaps me out of my trance.
I jerk back, panting for air, and sputter the truth before I chicken out. “I have succubus blood in me, and that’s why you want to kiss me!” Which just may be the weirdest words ever to end a kiss.
Yep. I’m a freak.
5
Ryleigh
Oh, my God, I’m starving! I’m starving! I’m starving! The same words chant through my brain like a damn broken record. I can’t get the music to turn off, though. A stupid, mind controlling rhythm in my rotting brain.
Brains.
Yummy.
Brains.
Juicy.
Brains, brains, brains …
Wait, is that a squirrel outside?
I quickly dropkick the thought out of my head. No squirrels. I need human brains. No, not human. Witches’ brains.
Witches’ brains, witches’ brains. Yum, yum, yum. At least, that’s what the person who changed me into a zombie said.
“Eat only witches’ brains,” someone whispered in my ear repeatedly. “Evalee’s brains to be exact. Her brains are the only brains you want.”
A bright light shone in my eyes and cool metal pressed against my cold, dead skin. I couldn’t see their face, but I could feel them looming over me. Then sharp pains had stung against my arm, like dull teeth cutting into my skin. I had whimpered out in pain while the person continuously whispered that I need to eat Evalee’s brain.
Evalee? My little sister? But why?
“What are you doing to me?” I groaned out as agonizing, hot pain seared through my veins.
Warm breath dusted my ear. “I’m making you a monster.”
“Who …? Who are you?”
“Your master. And the person who’s going to put an end to the hybrid who will allow the demons to destroy our town. All I need is the help of my monster.”
I blink back to reality and stop running into the closet door where Hunter and Evalee are trapped. Then my gaze drops to my arm. The teeth marks are visible on my skin and crusted over with blood. Veins map my arms and hands, and my fingernails are black-ish blue, like I suddenly decided to go Goth, something I would never do. Well, not when I was alive.
When I was alive, I liked sparkly, pretty things. I loved my long, blonde hair. I spent hours perfecting new makeup spells. And a spa day was the best day ever.
I turn toward the mirror and let out a gasp. Well, I try to gasp, but the noise that leaves my lips sounds more like a dying cat.
“No, this can’t be me.” I blink at my reflection several times, yet no matter what I do, the hideous creature staring back at me doesn’t change.
My eyes burn, and I want to cry. Instead of tears, my eyes leak blood.
My already dead, still heart withers to ashes.
I really am a monster.
A freak!
Just as the thought occurs to me, a card flutters through the air.
I bend over to pick it up and curse myself as I knock my head against the floor. Then, of course, my rotting fingers can’t grasp ahold of the card.
Damn zombie klutziness. How people think that one day these creatures will take over the world is beyond me.
After several failed attempts, I finally lie down on the floor, flip the card over with my teeth, and read the words printed on the back.
Hello, my little zombie.
I’m sure you’re quite hungry right now, and I know you’ve been trying to eat your sister, due to your master’s brainwashing. But let me assure you that your master is wrong. Evalee’s brains aren’t very scrumptious. In fact, they’re quite foul and full of stupid little rainbow trout, probably.
If you want to get some really delicious brains, then I suggest going to the Annual Mystic Willow Bay Freak Show, where you can get your fill of freaky brains. And, at least from what I’ve heard, those are the tastiest brains. Oh, and make sure to leave this note. I want to be positive that your sister knows where to find you. That is, if she ever wants to see you again.
Taped below the note is a ticket with an address printed on it. I’m assuming that’s where the freak show is taking place. I’ve never actually gone to the freak show before, mainly because I’ve never considered myself a freak. But now … I think I might belong there. Plus, I am very hungry for some tasty brains.
My master’s voice chants in my head, begging me to go after Evalee. But I shove the voice aside, rip the ticket off the note, and limp toward the doorway.
The voice inside my head screams louder. Do not leave! You must eat Evalee’s brains!
I don’t really know that much about zombies, but from what I’ve read in books, they carry a connection to the person or creature who turns them. Kind of like with vampires, except a zombie master carries a connection to their zombie’s brains, which is what I’m assuming is happening to me now.
I continue making my way out of the room. “Sorry,” I grumble. “But zombies aren’t known for being that obedient. And truthfully, I really don’t want to eat my sister’s brain.”
She’s not even your sister!
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about her. What I’d really like to know is who you are and why you want Evalee dead.”
No response, which leaves me more time to focus on other things.
Well, one thing actually.
Getting some delicious freaky brains.