Death Calls
Like the phantom pain of a lost limb, the memory of Ryder's bite lingered, reminding her of what he'd done. Reminding her that she'd begged for his violence.
There was no scar at her neck. No fresh wound, raw and bleeding. Instead, the pain was deep inside, as alive in her heart as the day two years ago when her lover had first revealed his vampire nature.
Before Ryder, she hadn't allowed herself to feel anything for anyone, not since her father's death. That she had lowered her defenses and made love with him only to find out he was a vampire had awoken the rage and anger she had thought under control. Dealing with it had been difficult.
Now, it was almost as painful to acknowledge where their two-year love affair had led them— to the wreckage of her carefully reconstructed life.
Diana grabbed her shot of Cuervo and downed it in one gulp. Then she immediately signaled the bartender for another. But she only stared at the drink in front of her, fingers splayed on the scarred black surface of the bar.
The Blood Bank was a favorite haunt of those in Manhattan's vampire subculture and a great place if one wanted to offer ... read full excerpt from: Death Calls ebook
