First Bitten (The Alexandra Jones Series #1)

Nathan doesn’t say anything for a long moment. You’d think for someone so desperate to tell me whatever it is he wants to tell me, he’d speed this up.

I sigh impatiently, tapping my foot loudly against the floor.

He pulls his hands from his pockets and pushes his hands through his hair, scraping it back away from his face, revealing a pretty good set of cheekbones and a jaw that looks like it was chiselled by the man himself. Then he releases his hold on his hair, letting it fall back messily around his face, folds his arms across his chest and starts speaking, “A few days ago, in the early hours of Saturday morning, you were attacked … ”

“Whoa!” I lift my hand up, halting him. “I was attacked? By who?” I suddenly have this clutching pain in my stomach and a sense of familiarity that for the life of me I can’t place.

“If you’ll stop interrupting me, I’ll tell you.” He frowns.

I frown back, giving him a look that lets him know just exactly what I think of his crappy attitude.

Nathan’s face clears and he begins tapping his fingertips rhythmically against his solid thigh. “You were attacked by a Vârcolac. They’re a vampire-werewolf hybrid. He was in his wolf form when he attacked you.” He takes a quick breath. “I saved you, killed him, and brought you back here to my home. You’d been bitten and were infected. You were in a really bad way, hence the need for the morphine, you know, to kill the pain, and we’ve – me, my dad and my brother – have been caring for you for the last few days while you went through the transition, but the thing is, though, Alex,” he pauses momentarily and puts his hand to his head, scratching his temple, “well, basically, you shouldn’t have gone through the transition. You should have died from the infection, but for some ungodly reason you didn’t. And you have to understand a woman has never survived the change before. Only men do. But, well, like I said, you did and now I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re one of them, a Vârcolac, the only female one of their kind.” He takes a deep breath, obviously done, his eyes intent on me, assumedly waiting, gauging my reaction.

I stare at him agape. An awkward sounding laugh escapes me. “Okay…”

“I know this is hard to believe,” he quickly interjects, “but it is the truth.” He adds a firm look for good measure.

I cast my eyes over him, from his head down to his bare feet and back up again, trying to read him. I’m no body language expert but he seems to actually believe what he’s saying is the truth, which can only mean one thing – he’s completely insane. Like ‘needs to be in a straight jacket’ insane. And this is clearly the moment I should run screaming for the door but he’s still blocking it. My only other option – humour him.

“So you’re saying I was attacked by a–”

“Vârcolac.”

“Vârcolac – right.” I nod. “And you’re saying I’m now one of these Vârcolac things.”

“Yes.”

“And they’re a vampire-werewolf thingy?”

“Hybrid,” he corrects.

“Right, vampire–werewolf hybrid.” I nod again.

I clamp my lips together and count to ten in my mind, while I decide what to do next. I make it to three before hysterical laughter bursts from me.

“This isn’t a fucking joke!” Nathan snaps, banging his fist against the door. The whole back wall trembles slightly.

My laughter quickly dies out, overtaken by anger. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this shit! You … ” I jab a finger at him, “ … are obviously completely out of your tree and I highly recommend that you see someone, you know, for psychiatric help, so they can give some medication – well lots of medication – to make you normal, well as normal as you could be. Or maybe you just need committing or something – whatever, I don’t know!” I mentally shake myself, stopping the incoherent babbling that often plagues me. “Look, Nathan, I’ve heard enough and I’ve had enough. I’m leaving now, so just move yourself away from the door.” I waggle my fingers at him in a patronizing manner as I once again get to my feet, prepping to leave.

He doesn’t move. Instead he makes a noise of anger that can only be described as a growl. It sends a shiver running over my skin, and not in a good way.

“Did you just … growl at me?!” I say appalled.

He raises his frustrated eyebrows. “Alex, I’m not some lunatic who makes up crazy stories. Do you think I even want to be having this conversation with you? Do you think I want you here in my home? Seriously, you have no idea how much danger I have put my family in by saving your life.”

“Well, I didn’t bloody ask you to, did I?” I stare back at him angrily.

“That your idea of a thanks?” he smarts. There’s not a trace of humour in him.

“I’m not thanking you when you just insulted me!” Okay, so I’m not actually sure if he did insult me, but it sounds like a good thing to say, and it’s the only thing I’ve got.

“Insulted you?” His look is incredulous. “Insulted you?!” He starts to pace the room before me, a storm brewing on his face. “So far you’ve accused me of being a rapist, a drug dealer, a pimp, and have just told me that I’m clinically insane.” He stops his pacing and gives me a cynical look. “I’d say the only one being insulted here is me.”

“I was only stating the obvious,” I reply with a wry smile.

“Jesus Christ, you’re impossible to talk to!” He shakes his head roughly and his dirty blonde hair falls into his eyes. He pushes it back out. I can see his jaw working angrily as he sets his hard eyes on me. “Do you have to work hard to be this annoying or does it just come naturally?”

“Piss off!” I snap. It’s weak but it’s all I’ve got left.

We glare angrily at each other across the room for a long moment. If someone tried to walk between us they would walk career bang into the wall of tension, it’s that thick.

Then, surprisingly, Nathan looks away, staring out of the window. “We done?” His voice is calmer now.

I snag my lower lip with my teeth. “Yes.”

He looks back at me and spreads his hands out, palms down, in a placating manner. “I know all of this I’ve told you will seem very unreal. I get that, honestly I do, but think about it seriously. What have I got to gain from telling you this if it wasn’t the truth? What do I benefit from it?”

And I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the calm tone of his voice, or the reflective look in his eyes, or maybe it’s the actual sense in some of his words, and the resonating effect they’re having on me. Well, whatever it is, a teeny-tiny part of me is actually starting to take him seriously. It’s only a microscopic part but still it’s there, and I suppose I’ve got nothing to lose by hearing the rest of his crazy tale.

“Look, Alex.” He pauses and rubs his hand across his stubbly jaw, his expression torn. “I didn’t want to show you this yet as I thought it would probably freak you out, but it will go some way in proving to you that what I’ve been saying is true.”

I don’t get a chance to respond before he’s walking toward me and standing before me, reaching his hand out, taking hold of the hem of the T-shirt I’m wearing, lifting it up, exposing my knickers …

I slam my hand down on his, stopping him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I exclaim. My body starts to tremble.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone is soft, gentle. “Trust me.” He speaks the rest with his eyes.

I hesitate, and for some reason I can’t explain, I move my hand away from his.

Nathan continues to lift the T-shirt up. “Look,” he says, his eyes cast down, focussed on my stomach.

I follow his stare. My breath catches in my throat.

There’s a huge scar on the right-hand side of my stomach, practically spanning the whole of my waist. It looks like a bite mark. A very large bite mark. Like a ‘lion bit me’ sized bite mark.

Nathan lets go of the T-shirt, but I catch hold, keeping it up. He moves away and sits back in his chair, leaving me standing here feeling dazed and bewildered.

I lean my face down closer, examining it. It looks old, like it’s been here for months. How is this even possible? Maybe it’s a trick? Maybe it’s that fake make-up. I rub hard at it with my finger. It’s still there. I wet my finger in my mouth and try again.

“It’s real,” Nathan says from across the room. His voice is like an echo in my vacant mind.

I know it’s real. I knew the instant I touched it. But my memory’s telling me that yesterday there was smooth skin where this hideous scar now is. Bite marks don’t heal that quickly. Skin just doesn’t heal that quickly. What did Nathan say before – that it was few days ago I was attacked – so right now it should just be a scabby, sore wound.

No, this can’t be right.

I look up at Nathan with helpless eyes, searching his for an answer.

“They … you heal quickly but that is the only scar you’ll ever have again. All Vârcolacs have them. It’s their mark, their brand, so to say.”

I know I’m freaking out because my brain’s finally gone hyper-active and currently feels like it’s short-circuiting, but I just can’t seem to convey it. It’s like my body is lost in translation.

I let go of the T-shirt covering the evidence I’m not ready to face, suddenly feeling dizzy and off-balance. I slump myself down onto the edge of the bed. I curl my fingers around the edge of the bed, grip the carpet with my toes, take a deep breath and look up at Nathan. “Tell me everything.”