Roaring

the wall with my blood.
He casts me a skeptical glance, but I don’t bother to acknowledge him.
Violet has asked me on a date.
Me.
Only when she’s out of sight do I hurry to my lab in the basement of the academic building. What type of perfume would a psychopathic vampire want as a gift?
Oh! Nothing’s more enticing to Violet than the sweat and blood of her enemies.
Ideas run rampant through my brain in tandem to my rapidly beating heart.
Violet has given me the opportunity to prove myself, and I’ll be damned if I mess it up again. I’ll never be a hunter or a fighter, but I’ll set the world on fire if that was what she needed.
She didn’t know what she agreed to when she said yes to my monster.
Hopefully, she’s okay with a little murder and mayhem.

CHAPTER 10
VIOLET
I’m walking to the cafeteria the next morning—mouth already watering at the prospect of sticking my fangs into Jack’s neck—when my phone releases an ear-piercing ring. I pull it out of my jacket pocket, nose scrunching, until I see who is calling me.
“Dad?” I say eagerly, placing the phone to my ear. I pause in the middle of the forested pathway. A few goblins cast me evil side-eyes as they brush past me, and I respond by baring my fangs. Probably not the smartest move when vampire hate acts are so high on campus, but what can I say? I’m a petty bitch.
I step a little ways off the trail, leaves and twigs snapping beneath my feet.
“Hey, homegirl,” Dad replies. “What’s baking in the oven?”
“Oh my god.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Are you going through a phase again?”
My dad and his fucking phases…
“Just keeping it kewl and on the downlow, homie. Now, waz shaking?”
This is Dracula, my friends. The most feared monster in the entire world.
“Why haven’t you been returning my calls?” I demand, leaning against a tree. The rough bark scrapes against my skin where my shirt has ridden up, but I relish the tiny licks of pain.
“Been busy taking names and fucking them.”
For the love of…
“I need to talk to you,” I blurt abruptly. “About Diedre Stevens.”
There’s a prolonged pause on the other end of the line. For a moment, I believe he has hung up on me. I glance at the screen bemusedly, just as his slightly shrill voice echoes from the phone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Dad,” I begin, bringing the phone back up to my ear. “You’re acting suspicious as fuck right now. She said—”
“Not now,” he cuts in, tone scathing. “We’ll meet Friday night. I’ll text you the address.”
With that ominous statement, he hangs up on me. I stare at the now dark screen of my phone with growing confusion and horror.
One thing is for certain—Vladimir Dracula is hiding something from me.
MY CONFUSION DOESN’T ABATE by the time I enter the cafeteria. If anything, it grows like a seed finding soil and taking root in my stomach.
The inside is exactly how I would imagine a human cafeteria to look like. Of course, there are small variations—like the buffet of human body parts run by monsters with spiders for hair. A few human donors sit on uncomfortable plastic chairs against the far wall. Opposite them is a separate hallway that leads to the private feeding rooms.
It’s the latter location I head to, my mind consumed with Dracula’s curt tone. He almost sounded…afraid. What the fuck does he have to be afraid of? He is the apex predator; the monster that other monsters are wary of.
I’ve just reached the private feeding rooms when I notice Jennifer pacing just outside. She’s a vampire like me, with an hourglass figure and pitch-black hair. Her smoky eyes turn in my direction, and I’m struck by the pure, undiluted hatred there. Like, damn, girl, did I pee in your Cheerios or something?
“They’re not letting us fucking feed,” she hisses, baring her fangs.
“Huh?” I turn towards my usual room. Jack is scheduled to meet me in the next five minutes, after he finishes class.
“The fucking vampire haters,” Jennifer seethes. “They’re not letting us feed.”
My brows furrowing, I push open the first door.
Only to vomit in my throat when I catch a glimpse of Cheryl’s tits as she rides Fish Boy.
Have you ever seen tits made of gills before? Have you? Because let me just say, they’re a sight to behold. Every time they bounce, the blue gills sparkle in the artificial lighting. I’m pretty sure her nipples are a shade of blue as well.
And…
I really should stop staring at my nemesis’s nipples.
The boy she’s riding like a fucking pogo-stick is the same asshole who attacked me the first day of school. His girlfriend, Ali, was murdered only a few weeks earlier.
Just proves my point. No men are loyal.
His cock—lined with gills—thrusts in and out of a moaning Cheryl.
For the longest time, I sorta assumed they were related.
Cue—actual, honest-to-god vomit.
Cheryl meets my eyes as she continues to ride Fish Boy. Pure malice flashes in her gaze as she throws her head back, thrusting her blue tits further in my direction. She begins to knead the heavy globe as her other hand plucks at her clit.
“Oh, Vin!” she screams as Fish Boy’s hips begin to move erratically.
“You know, I can literally see that the man you’re fucking is not, in fact, Vin,” I point out.
“Harder, Vin! Harder!” She leans forward, tits swaying, and Fish Boy places a hand on the back of her head to hold her steady.
“Still not Vin,” I murmur.
Her voice is a gasp when she speaks next. “I’m just remembering the way he used to fuck me. Or wait…maybe I’m thinking about Mason.” She twists her head to smile up at me, tweaking her own nipples. “Actually, I’m most definitely thinking of Vin.”
Of course, that immediately makes me think of what I’d witnessed in the hallway, and my vision becomes coated with a red sheen. Jealousy pulsates through me in tandem to