Bite Me by Robyn Bachar

Author:Robyn Bachar
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: lgbt;lesbian heroine;bisexual heroine;bisexual hero;f/f/m;vampires;werewolves;demons;zombies;magic;incubus;succubus;triad;love triangle
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2015-03-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

I flew my new charges to my building in a stripped-down station wagon without tires. I put a sleep spell over Marisol before I let the werewolves near the car, because I didn’t want her to freak out. The spell would last until sunrise, and when we arrived at my lair I put her in the capable hands of Maggie and Roz.

The werewolves needed daylight to clear the upper floors, because if we turned the lights on during the night we’d attract zombies for miles like moths to a flame, so the team hung out in the kitchen until then. I let the good Father keep them in line as they dined on mac and cheese.

I retreated into my room and ducked into my bathroom to shed my bloody, torn clothes. My knees buckled and I ended up on my butt in the middle of the tile floor, my head in my bloodstained hands. My heart raced, and my arms tingled with an itchy, prickling sensation, like I was being attacked by invisible fire ants. The air squeezed from my chest and I couldn’t breathe.

“Lizzy? Are you okay?” Angie called from the other side of the door. The crowd in my bedroom probably heard the thud when my well-padded rear hit the floor.

“Sort of. You can come in. Just you.”

Angie entered—alone, as requested—and knelt beside me. “What can I do?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” The tightness in my chest imploded as I cried ugly, racking sobs. I was a monster. Worse, I was a monster who brawled with other monsters. How could I ever consider myself to be relationship material?

“I did say that I wanted to experience your demon,” Angie replied. She rubbed my lower back, careful to avoid the spot where Jimmy had taken a chunk out of me.

“Not like this. You wanted sexy Elizabeth, not serial-killer Elizabeth.”

“She’s not a serial killer.”

I held up my bloody hands. “Maybe Lady Macbeth. Out, damned spot!” I took a steadying breath and fought for composure as the pressure in my chest eased a fraction. “I don’t want you to think I’m a monster. Not you.”

“I don’t. It’s not easy, but…I wanted to pull those guys apart with my bare hands too. I’m glad you’re all right.”

I leaned into her, resting my head on her shoulder. “How are you?”

“Okay. Apparently I’m your second-in-command.” She smiled dryly.

“Seemed a good idea at the time. Does it bother you that I’m white?” I asked.

Angie blinked at the non sequitur. “What? No. Where did that come from?”

“Omar’s dark meat comment. I never thought about it. Well, no, that’s not entirely true. You were right about the white vampire privilege thing. I didn’t think about what other people would think about it. I’m babbling now.” She quirked a thin, dark eyebrow and I blundered on, anxiety still squeezing my chest like a vise. “Like I said, everybody tastes the same as far as blood goes. I understand the sociology of it all as far as race goes, but to a vampire, a human is human.

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