Rebel Bitten - Lexi C. Foss Page 0,65

several times over the last few weeks. While I bested her each time, she more than held her own, which was why I enjoyed training with her.

“She’s skilled,” he agreed. “But the university excels in training.”

I couldn’t argue that point, even if I wanted to scoff at it.

Willow’s shiver turned into a violent tremor, her teeth chattering as though she were standing in the Arctic. Damien turned up the heat without my having to ask.

“I’m going to start the process,” I told him.

“We’ll reach a reasonable burial site in about ten minutes,” he replied, providing the necessary timetable.

I moved her into a better position for what I had to do, essentially laying her out along the backseat with only her upper body in my lap. Her head rested on my arm, which I lifted to bring her neck closer to my mouth. “She’ll be ready in fifteen.”

“There are shovels in the trunk,” he added.

This must have been the car he planned to use to deliver messages to those on my list from earlier. He’d probably intended to kill a few of them to make his statement clear—leave or die. It was exactly how I’d handle it.

Willow sputtered, her lungs beginning to fail.

“I’m going to need you to stay with me just a few more minutes,” I informed her softly.

Her expression didn’t change, that yellow tint blinking in and out of her dying gaze. I ignored it and went for her neck, my incisors piercing the tender skin of her vein to begin the task of absorbing the entirety of her life essence.

She tasted as she always did, with no signs of any altered chemistry in her body. I evaluated each pull into my mouth, cataloging the flavors and searching for any sign of foul play.

Nothing.

No hints.

No drugs.

No poisons.

Just my sweet, alluring Willow.

I closed my eyes and consumed her, wishing for an entirely different experience. One where she writhed in pleasure, not death. She should be moaning, my bite engaging all her erotic receptors, but her trembles weren’t born of ecstasy. They were savage tremors indicating her end of days.

Not on my watch, I vowed, quickening my pace and forcing her to yield her life to me. It’d been a long time since I’d done this—Damien being my one and only progeny—but the art of turning another into a vampire was ingrained in my being. I sensed the moment where I needed to pull back and open a vein for her, the magic of my existence pulsing to life inside me.

I ripped apart my wrist in my hurry for her to drink, then pressed it to her mouth, watching as precious fluid streamed passed her lips and also down the sides of her cheeks. I didn’t care. I’d feed later to replenish myself. Now was about reviving my Willow, providing her with the energy she required to survive the change.

She didn’t move, apart from her throat swallowing.

I sensed no emotions from her. No confusion. No sadness. No joy. It was as though I were feeding a corpse.

It felt wrong, yet I simultaneously sensed the process beginning to work. My head fell back against the seat, my vision spinning just a little from the onslaught of mixed signals.

She’s not responding.

The bond is snapping into place.

This isn’t right.

My progeny is being reborn.

I didn’t even notice that the car had stopped or that Damien wasn’t with me anymore until he knocked on the window beside my head. I felt groggy, depleted, hazy. He frowned at me and opened the door, his words slurring through my ears. Then he looked at my lap, and his eyebrows shot up. I looked down to find the problem and realized Willow had lost consciousness at some point, but my wound remained open.

How much blood did she imbibe? Was it enough? Why was I so weak?

“She bit you,” I heard Damien say, an emotional note underlining his tone. Awe? Fear? Anger? I couldn’t decipher it over the roaring in my thoughts.

But I knew one thing that needed to be said. “Bury her. Us. Bury us.” I didn’t want to leave her alone in an unknown area throughout the day. She needed her Sire by her side to prosper.

“Hell no,” Damien snapped, lifting his phone to his ear. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I kept repeating my command, but it lacked punch.

I shook my head to clear it, but that only made me dizzier.

“I don’t fucking care. Track him down.” Damien’s words were clear until they weren’t. Something

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