Blood Drunk by Robyn Herzman EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Robyn Herzman
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 5 MB
- Price: Free
Every human has a quiet, internal instinct. A voice in their mind that
whispers danger. That voice doesn’t know what the danger is, only that
it exists. It warns not to cut through the quiet park at night. It fabricates all
possible and seemingly impossible threats. There could be a monster lying
in wait, that one that hides under your bed. Or a hungry vampire who will
dig his fangs into your flesh. It’s because of creatures like me that humans
have that voice. That internal tug that keeps them on the path, under the
glow of the warm, amber streetlamps, safely in view of others.
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Just in case.
I’m not a vampire, but I deal in shadows and darkness with a flick of a
blade, a dribble of blood. Sometimes more. I don’t aim to kill people,
especially in our small town. Too noticeable. But I make no promises.
Tonight is no exception. Or I hope it won’t be. No luck yet.
I resist the urge to pull my hood up over my blood-red hair to avoid being
seen. And because it’s freaking freezing. I need to be seen. I need to lure
potential clients in.
A prickle of danger raises the fine hairs on the back of my neck. All kinds
of supernaturals call this town home, many of whom are dangerous. My
fingers twitch. Most witches have the secondary power of tasering, a bolt of
electricity, to varying degrees.
I like waiting against walls to decrease the likelihood of someone
sneaking up on me, but I don’t want to trap myself in, either. I wait at the
open-ended alley, straining my ears, but find nothing, no one, satisfied with
my location for tonight.
In the shadow of an abandoned, dilapidated pet store, I lean against the
brick wall in the mouth of the alley, broken glass shimmering with
moonlight at my feet like small pools of jagged, silver blood. I’m sure the
silver light catches my hair, too. I hope it’s enough for me to be seen by. I
can’t just flag down people on the street enjoying a late-night walk. They
have to come to me.
The night is so quiet my ears prick at the hoot of an owl above. I tilt my
head back to meet her gaze, black eyes greeting mine. A beautiful tawny,
her feathers smooth and brown, flecked with hazel-gold, spreads her wings
on a canvas of glittering stars at her back. She tilts her head at me, as
though asking why the streets are silent as a graveyard.
They’ve been quiet for days now, and I’m getting desperate.
“Come on, come on,” I mutter, rubbing my near-frozen hands together to
provoke some warmth. I send a silent prayer to the Goddess for a client.
Any client. I need the cash.
Winter is fast approaching, reaching her icy fingers through the gathering
mist, digging deep into my body like needles. I don’t believe in wearing
jeans—they’re so boring—but I’d kill for a pair of warm, leather pants. I
close my eyes for half a second, letting myself fantasise about fashionable,
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