Bloodrush Read Online Free PDF Page A

hand to his neck and his fingers probed for evidence of the damaged flesh that had to be there. But the wound was gone, replaced by perfectly smooth, unblemished tissue. Had he imagined the whole thing? He didn’t think so. He remembered the sensation of her teeth sinking into his flesh with exquisite clarity. And remembered just as clearly the subsequent mind-searing agony. Now he felt something altogether different. Hunger. Arousal. He kept rubbing at the place where the wound had been and realized how cool the flesh was to the touch.
    It was like touching ice.
    He sat up.
    And gasped when he saw her. She was a dozen feet away, sitting in a chair fashioned from the blackened skulls and bones of dead human beings. Except “chair” wasn‘t quite the right terminology. It was a throne of sorts, a small-scale version of how Satan’s own infernal perch might look. She was nude now, her discarded goth-punk clothes nowhere in sight. He saw flecks of slowly coagulating blood smeared on her chin and around her mouth. Her naked body was distinctly feminine, her breasts larger than they‘d seemed underneath that jacket and T-shirt. She looked like some kind of barbarian queen from an old pulp novel. “You…what have you done to me?”
    She smiled. “I killed you.”
    “But…” He trailed off, realizing something. This place had felt too hot before, a sensation amplified by the press of too many filthy bodies in an enclosed space. But now he was cold. He held up his hands and stared at them, noting at once that they were paler than before, an almost pure shade of white tinged with blue. His gaze shifted back to the girl—no… woman ; this creature was no mere girl—and he repeated his previous question. “What have you done to me?”
    She smirked. “I already answered that one. Surely you have other questions.”
    He touched his forehead.
    Cold. Jesus, why am I so fucking cold!?
    “Why am I so fucking cold?”
    Another of those chilly, soulless smiles. “Because you’re a dead thing, David. You’ll feel colder and colder until you feed. And if you don’t feed…well, that’ll be the real end of you.”
    David wrapped his arms around his torso and began to rock slowly back and forth. “By ‘feed’ do you mean…”
    He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
    She nodded. “You’ll have to drink blood.”
    David stared blankly at her for a long moment.
    Then his mind made an intuitive leap.
    “Holy shit, you’ve turned me into a vampire.”
    She shrugged and scratched flecks of dried blood— his blood—from a corner of her mouth with a thumbnail. “Obviously.”
    He abruptly stopped rocking. His terrified expression gave way to a glare. An urge to charge her and tear her head off her shoulders consumed him. He leaned forward a little, the muscles in his body tensing as a low growl emanated from deep within him. “You… bitch .”
    She laughed. “I won’t deny it. I’m the meanest bitch you’ll ever meet, David. Of that let there be no doubt.”
    His hands curled into fists. He was surprised at how little fear he felt now. Despite the deep chill permeating his body, he realized how good he felt. How strong. How perfectly aware. He’d always kept himself in reasonably good shape, but he’d never been what you could call an athlete. He did a bit of exercising every day, just enough to feel like he wasn’t getting sloppy, mostly cardio stuff, but he didn’t lift weights or do any other kind of strength conditioning. And yet now he felt real power coiled in his muscles. He felt like he could go toe-to-toe with the toughest motherfuckers around and come out on top. His senses were heightened, too, particularly his sense of smell. Every scent was sharper now, crisper and bolder. The scents of human filth—shit, piss, and sweat—were now so pronounced they should have made his gut clench. He should be on his hands and knees puking his guts up. However, while the smells did disgust him, they produced no