Crimson Groves by Ashley Robertson

snarl. Deep growls rolled off my tongue. Wait a second! I was snarling at him? What the hell? I was behaving like some kind of rabid animal now. I reached up, touched my lips, and then rubbed across my teeth. My top two canines were sharper, wider, extending down a little farther than before. The bottom ones felt bigger too. Their razor-sharp edges sliced into my fingertips. I gasped, pulled my hand away. My investigating fingers were bleeding.
    In a flash, Bronx was here, arm wrapped around me, maybe wanting to comfort me. It wasn’t working—it was making me feel worse. But I didn’t fight him off. I don’t know why. “Those are your new fangs,” he said. I looked up at his face. He smiled, a broad glistening expanse of teeth and fangs. I reached up and touched his lips, then inched my fingers inside, moving them slowly, gently over his fangs. They felt just like mine. My hand dropped down to my side. I needed a few minutes to let this new information sink in. My brain was trying to register it like a computer fighting off a nasty virus.
    Bronx tightened his grip around me. I felt sick. In a flash, I ducked out of his hold and stepped back. I was starting to get used to this new speed. I looked down at my fingers. They weren’t bleeding anymore. The wound was healed; a remnant of dried blood was all that was left. My body could heal itself? “Can our bodies heal quicker than normal?”
    He nodded slowly, eyes burning like deep, dark blue fires. “As long as you keep up a good supply of blood, you will be invincible.”
    Invincible? Really? Well, that could be useful.
    Bronx stepped forward, voice deep as he said, “There was a time long ago when killing people was the only way for us to survive. It was not until about thirty years ago that the idea of people donating their blood grew more popular among our kind. Meredith”—his voice grew deeper upon saying that name—“refused to eat that way. She preferred killing for food just as we always had. The night I told you of, when the Enforcers attacked me, Meredith and I were hunting for our next victim. She loved finding a human and watching the fear in its eyes as she sucked it dry. They would struggle and fight to free themselves only to succumb to the pleasure of our venom. Meredith got such a rush from it, and I enjoyed watching the amusement it gave her. When the Enforcer brought me here, I realized I no longer enjoyed killing my victims and I began solely using blood donors.” He ran his fingers through his smooth black hair, tucking it neatly behind his ears.
    After that he inched a small step closer and carried on with his story. “There are a few clubs in the area owned by blood donors, vampires, or both working as a partnership. These clubs have back rooms where you can access the donors. They also make house calls, as you have just witnessed with our friend here.” He pointed to the middle-aged woman lying on the floor. She was in a fetal position with her knees tucked into her chest. A faint sigh escaped her lips.
    My shoulders were tight, and I shrugged to loosen them. It didn’t work. I needed space, a few minutes to myself. But instead of getting that, Bronx flashed to me and put his arm around my shoulder. “I know this is a lot to take in,” he said, “but you—”
    I twisted around, grabbed him just below the shoulders, and pushed back as hard as I could. He sidestepped twice but caught himself before completely falling over. “You’re disgusting! You’re a murderer! You killed people for no reason at all except the fun of it! Let me guess, it was all Meredith’s fault you did it, right? You’re just the victim here!” My eyes were narrow, fangs extended, fists balled at my sides.
    He watched me, that sadistic grin stretched across his face. Anger came at me in a rush. I wanted to beat his face in. Hey, that actually sounded like a really good idea. I sprung forward like a pouncing cat, fist tightly balled and swinging right for