This Dark Wolf (Soul Bitten Shifter #1) - Everly Frost Page 0,29
smile. “I have a habit of biting off more than I can chew. It doesn’t always end well for me.” She waves her hand over her own face. “This face,” she says, “is the result of six months of Helen’s magic. When I came here, I was in worse shape than you.”
She makes a bubbling sound in the back of her throat—a deceptively light laugh at her own pain—but the cold in her eyes makes me shiver. Somehow, I get the sense that it would take a powerful supernatural to mess with her.
“Has Helen given you the spiel about not asking questions?” she asks.
I nod.
Iyana’s smile reveals the tiniest hint of fangs. “Let’s make this easy then. Here’s what you can know about me: I’m a vampire. Twenty-five years old. I haven’t lived with my own kind for the last five years. In fact, I’m one of only a few vampires in Portland. The wolf shifter population tends to keep us away.” She stops, considering the ceiling, as if she’s thinking about what else she can tell me. She shrugs. “If I told you the rest, I’d have to kill you.”
I should have realized she was a vampire from her comment about biting off too much. Also, since her room held no sunlight.
Iyana smirks at my wide eyes. “I’ve surprised you. You didn’t expect me to be a vampire.”
I force myself to relax. “Helen said there were many different women here.”
“Different.” Iyana lets out a heavy sigh. “That’s one way to put it. Broken might be more accurate.” She inclines her head at my room. “How is Ella today?”
“She’s listing colors,” I answer cautiously, not sure how much I’m supposed to say.
Iyana nods. “Yesterday she was screaming, so listing colors is good.”
I blink at the floor as I digest this information. I’ve been through a lot, but I’m nowhere near close enough to breaking so badly that my memories could consume me like that. My hands shake as I try not to imagine what it would take to hurt a woman so much.
“There’s nothing you can do,” Iyana says softly. “Helen’s the only one who can help her.” She clears her throat, and I guess she’s trying to lift the heaviness around us. “I’m headed to the gun range. I’ll show you around if you want?”
My eyebrows rise. “There’s a gun range?”
Iyana grins suddenly, her fangs disappearing up into her gums. She looks pleased that she surprised me again. “Whatever you need, it’s here. This morning, I need target practice, so I’m hoping Helen won’t make me climb three sets of stairs to get to the range this time. Yesterday, I had to walk past the kitchen and the garden first. That woman really wants to shake up my routine.”
Iyana inclines her head at the end of the corridor and I fall into step beside her. The idea of climbing any stairs today is unwelcome. My shoulders are stiff and the drag of material across my torso is already smarting. I keep my arm movements to a minimum, but at least my legs are mostly functional, allowing me to keep pace with Iyana.
The doors around us remain closed, but when we’re halfway down the corridor, one of them opens behind us and steady footfalls approach.
Iyana doesn’t look around. “Morning, Danika.”
“Fuck mornings,” the woman replies.
I study the newcomer from the corner of my eye. She’s shorter than Iyana—slightly shorter than me too—with tousled, light brown hair falling to her shoulders, golden highlights soft in the corridor lighting. Her hazel eyes are flecked with gold and rimmed in dark brown. Her jeans are ripped across her left thigh and she’s wearing a strappy black singlet top that shows off the intricate tattoo of a bird’s wing decorating her entire left shoulder and bicep all the way to her elbow.
I suppress a shudder at the scar that runs through the tattoo from the tip of her shoulder to her forearm. The scar is thick and raised like knotted rope. It must have been a deep cut—possibly deliberately targeted at her tattoo.
At Danika’s harsh response, Iyana casts me a warning glance that I interpret to mean don’t say anything.
Iyana throws a casual question back at Danika as we continue to walk. “Bad night?”
“Are you going to the gun range?” Danika asks, without answering Iyana’s question.
“Yup,” Iyana replies, popping the ‘p’ at the end while keeping her focus on the corridor in front of us.