Whiteout (Aurora Sky (13 page)

I clenched my teeth
,
waiting for him to ease up and convulse. My fingers fisted. This was taking way too long.

Oh shit.

My blood was no longer toxic. The agency's formula had left my body.

 

 

 9

Resistance Is Futile

 

One by one, my fingers relaxed. My chest rose and fell steadily.

Rather than alarm
ed
, I felt free. More free than I had felt since we'd taken flight from Girdwood. I was no longer human or hunter. I was a vampire. A full-fledged
member of the undead.

Arlo released my neck, giving it a quick lick before facing me. “You have a peculiar taste. What blood type are you?”

My heart flipped as I considered
lying
. AB negative blood didn't automatically make me a vampire. Although rare in
humans, it wasn't unheard of.

I opted for honesty. The truth was already on his tongue.

“I'm AB negative.”

Arlo gave me a hard stare. “Ah. I thought you tasted different.”

“Different, bad?” I asked, cupping my hand over my neck where Arlo had bitten me.

“W
e take what we can get in these parts,” he said. “I'd rather bite a woman with AB negative than a man with O positive.”

I wondered how long it would take before I could tell the difference between blood types. While contemplating this, Arlo reached for th
e zipper on my jeans.

I
removed my hand from my neck and
slapped his hand. “What are you doing?”

“Suck and screw,” Arlo said. “Isn't that why you're here?”

I scooted away. “Not a chance.”

Arlo looked me over, undeterred. “I'll give you fifty dollars,” he
said.

“You already owe me fifty dollars.” I stood up and backed away from the couch slowly, my hand slipping
under my jacket
, fingers touching the gun.

Arlo stood and grabbed my arm before I could get a grip on the weapon. His fingers tightened at once and
he pulled me toward the couch, not wasting time.

“Let go!” I yelled.

I pulled away and he yanked harder, forcing my body in the opposite direction
from where
I wanted to go. Mustering up all my strength, I leaned away, attempting to plant my feet on the g
round and make myself immobile, but I was no match for a weight twice my own and all that extra muscle.

It was maddening how easily he overpowered me.

Arlo dragged me to the couch and pushed me down. No sooner did my butt hit the cushion
than
he was pinning me down with his weight.

His heavy breath hit my face. I jerked beneath him. I made a fist and pounded him in the jaw.

Arlo scowled.

I pounded him two more times, followed by a head
-
butt.

He grunted in pain
as
my own forehead throbbed
from
the
contact. I pushed at Arlo's chest, but the sucker's body anchored my thighs to the couch like a steel trap.

I twisted from side to side, but Arlo's weight only shifted and forced me deeper into the c
ushions
.

His lips drew back, roaring in outrage and e
xposing the sharp points of his razor teeth. Before he had a chance to attack, I wrapped my arms around his neck and gripped him in a headlock.

He pulled away.

I held on.

He stood up, taking me with him. I pulled him against me as though embracing a
friend
or a
lover.

With Arlo's feet now planted on the ground and his hands free, I wouldn't last long unless I amped up my own attack. My arms were busy holding his neck, leaving my teeth as the most viable option. At least I didn't have to worry about catching
anything. Vampirism had its perks. I leaned forward and bit through his flesh.

Arlo screeched.

Even as he thrashed and attempted to shove me off, I bit harder.

Blood filled my mouth. My heart sped up as the coppery zing touched my tongue. I couldn't swall
ow without easing up, but once I did, the blood would be there waiting. Fresh and warm. Vampire blood be damned
—
I wasn't a picky drinker.

Liquid cannibalism. Why not?

Arlo grabbed my head and tried pushing me away. When that didn't work, he punched the sid
e of my fa
ce. Next he pulled my hair. M
y eyes watered in pain. Dick move!

My hold on Arlo loosened, as did my teeth. He broke away and staggered to the edge of the couch, touching his neck where I'd bitten him and pulling away bloody fingers. His eyes wide
ned as he stared at his hand.

I swallowed his blood down.

The front door flew open, hitting the cabin wall with a bang.

“About time you showed up,” Arlo called out without turning around. “This one's resisting.”

The poor sucker must have been expecting P
ierce. If he'd bothered to turn around, he would have seen Dante storming toward him, a
savage
look on his face.

Arlo's brows furrowed when he got no answer.
As
he
slowly turned
, Dante pulled his arm back and let his fist fly.

Smack!

Right in the face.

The
vampire didn't have time to block before Dante punched him a second, third, and fourth time. Arlo crouched and tried to grab Dante's leg, but Dante slapped him across the face so hard his head twisted sideways. Arlo fell backward and hit the ground with a
thump. In an instant, Dante was on top of Arlo—straddling him on the floor and smacking him across the face.

I watched, transfixed.

Arlo dipped his head from side to side, attempting to avert the blows. Other than his feeble attempts at avoiding Dante's f
ist, he lay on his back
,
taking it. I guess he wasn't used to being on the defensive. Damn predators.

Eventually, Arlo didn't even bother moving his head. When I took a closer look, it wasn't because he was lying back taking it—he was unconscious. Dante ha
d beat
en
him senseless.

“Hey,” I said. “He's out.”

Dante's fist froze as he pulled it back, muscles flexing through his flannel shirt. He lowered his arm slowly and relaxed his fist.

Dante pressed two fingers against Arlo's neck. “He still has a pulse.”
He pulled his hand away and leaned in to look at the bite marks I'd left. Dante's head turned toward me. “Did you do this?”

His eyes met mine.

I ran a tongue over my teeth before answering. “He grabbed me.”

“And you bit him?”

“Yeah, I did. He bit me first.
It's only fair.”

Dante held his hand up to quiet me and tilted his head toward the
still-
open door. The hum of a car engine r
umbled
down the hallway.

“We have company,” he said.

No shit.

“It's probably Pierce. Hauled ass from Fairbanks, didn't he? Thinks
he's in for a sweet treat.” I batted my lashes mockingly.

“I'll handle him,” Dante said.

I smiled. “Are you sure? I've got a mean bite.”

Dante shook a finger at me. “No more biting.”

Yeah? I'd like to bite his finger off for trying to order me around. He
wasn't Melcher. He wasn't my dad. He couldn't tell me what to do. What did Dante expect when he insisted on denying me the one thing my body craved most?

The engine outside died. Moments later, a male voice called out, “Arlo?” from the open doorway.

The fi
gure that moved inside had spiky
copper-tinted
hair. Light brown stubble covered a strong jaw. He had to be
more than
six feet tall, and the way his muscles tightened and flexed beneath his
T
-shirt, he also had to work out.

Mr. Tall, Toned, and Fatal
didn'
t notice me the way I noticed him. He was too busy staring at Dante.

“Who are you?” he asked.

I recognized Pierce's voice from our earlier call. He hadn't come close enough yet to see Arlo on the floor.

Dante smirked. “Name's Peter.”

Pierce stopped so abru
ptly it looked as though his body had hit an invisible wall.
Recognition registered over his face upon hearing the name.

Dante really needed to come up with a new alias. Ryker, Nikolas,
Eli,
Clay,
or
Torin
would do the trick—all literary heartthrobs I woul
dn't mind sucking blood from. Then again, it wouldn't surprise me if he liked having a reputation among the undesirables.

Pierce kept his eyes on Dante and Dante's were on him. It reminded me of the hand
-
slapping game my friends and I used to play in
elementary school—how we used to wait and see who would make a move first.

In this case, it was Pierce. He spun around and sprinted for the door. Dante barreled after him. He seemed to move at lightning speed
,
unlike Pierce
,
whose body moved in slow motion
.

Dante caught Pierce by the hem of his shirt and yanked him back. It made a ripping sound but held firm. Dante had him in a headlock before
Pierce
knew what had hit him.