Free Bloodlands by Christine Cody Page B

at him with such a lack of mercy. But the extra effort had been worth it because she’d lulled his system, and he hadn’t heard such rhythms in a person since he’d followed the low, stifling wind of the New Badlands and ended up finding Mariah.
    Now that he even thought about it, Gabriel realized what Mariah’s and Abby’s vital sounds might have in . .
    Fear, stronger and clearer than in most people?
    Was that what made them stand out to him? He suspected that he liked to feed on that quality just as well as blood itself. . . .
    Flushing himself of anything but the pressing desire to find answers about Abby, Gabriel rested his hand against the heavily locked common area’s wooden door, taking a listen to what was going on inside. There were three distinct, muffled voices—what sounded to be a mature woman and man, plus an even older guy whose speech wasn’t much more than a creaking of hooked-together words.
    Gabriel’s blood seemed to spiral through his veins. Resources. Answers.
    But then his thoughts turned ruddy, soaking his memories with the useless answers he’d already come up with.
    Abby, lying in her blanket-piled bed in her room—just one of many honeycomb-like nooks in the underground Southblock sanctuary. Mosquito netting was draped so that it barely allowed a peek of her undernourished body curled in slumber, her light hair loose and tumbled. Up until that point, Gabriel had refrained from ever drinking from her, drinking from anyone down there. It would’ve been a death wish, possibly setting off an alarm that there was a monster in their midst.
    Yet there she was, on the edge of disappearing from life altogether—a woman he’d known for only a couple of weeks, but one who had already ensnared him. She’d lost so much weight since he’d met her, lost her appetite for the processed foods sanctuary smugglers were able to acquire since any natural resources were scarce in the area. Abby had even been shying away from Gabriel as well as all others, and they could only guess that she was exhausted from existing this way. That she was letting go so she might pass on to what they said would be a better place.
    Up until then, he’d loved Abby from a near distance, assuming the part of her protector, and she had been his mainstay. Sometimes she even wondered aloud if he’d stuck by her because rescuing her had validated him in some way she would never fully understand.
    Gabriel had wondered about all that, too. He even thought that she had become his own mission, much like the one his creator had been following when she had saved him .
    Even after he’d rescued Abby, she hadn’t realized he was a monster. And he’d embraced the charade, sneaking off to the outside to hunt and then bury himself under the dirt just before dawn. He was determined to never let her see how he died a little every day, and knowing that she might be able to love him back, in spite of what he was, had made him that much less of a dreaded being. He’d loved her for that gift—for resurrecting him yet another time, even in this small way.
    But that night, as he’d stood by her bed, seeing her slip away from him, seeing her chest rise and fall while he longed for the need to breathe right along with her, he’d been willing to do anything to keep her.
    Anything.
    So he’d gone closer. Closer.
    Then, before he could register what was happening, he was at her neck, his sight red, his fangs sprung.
    She’d awakened on the sharp inhalation of a coming scream, her eyes closing tightly when she saw his reddened gaze. But he’d registered the fear in her scent and thrashing pulse first, pushing his hand over her mouth to stop the sound, whispering that it was only him. And when she’d calmed, then openeher eyes, even without going into her mind, he saw that she knew what he’d been doing.
    Then, by some miracle, as he’d taken his hand away from her lips, she invited him into the gift of her still-guarded, superficial