Read Soulless (The Heartless Series Book 2) for Free Online Page B

in my vision, even though it was pretty dim to start with, and all I can focus on is the rag, the blood, and my heartbeat in my ears as I want it. More than that, I need it. I. Need. It.
    I need…
    I have to fight it. He can’t know.
    “You can’t hide it from me.” He smirks brighter. I guess he’s happy to have the conversation of Aunt Willow out of the way for the moment. I have news for him. It ain’t.
    “I’m not hiding anything.”
    “You are.”
    “I’m not.” I could admit defeat like an adult and move on with my life, but apparently, I want to act like a stubborn two-year-old. I even cross my arms and lean back against my pillow to prove my point. The point that I’m not lying when I totally am.
    No matter how much I don’t want it. No matter how much I believe it changes me into a monster. I know deep down that I have to drink it, or I’ll die. Guess that goes back to the whole would-the-world-be-better-off-without-me thing.
    “Sweetheart, your eyes are black. Like black. Like no whites at all. That’s what happens when you feed.”
    “Ewww…” Both from the fact that my eyes become all demony and because for three days, while I’ve been unconscious, Hart Blackwell has been feeding me.
    “Beggars can’t be picky.” He leans on the doorway, and his smirk fades fairly quickly. “No.”
    Huh? “No what?”
    He bites his lip and lets out a long breath, looking the blade over like it holds all the secrets of the universe on it. After all, it has those symbols carved on it. For all I know, they are ancient symbols that tell how the world was created, how it will end… and who killed Kennedy.
    “No, I can’t fix your Aunt Willow. I wish I could. I’m sorry.”
    I expect to be sad or mad. I expect, like any normal person, that I’d be the least bit angry. And I am. I’m furious at him, and still… I laugh. It surprises even me when the first beats of laughter erupt, and I nearly fall over. It isn’t until my stab wound starts to make itself known that I try to stop.
    Hart hasn’t moved this entire time. He keeps looking at me like I have fifteen eyeballs and seven heads. Maybe I do. If my eyes are black from the blood lust—again, ewww—then why wouldn’t I sprout fifteen heads or seven noses? Who knows what an actual abomination looks like? Angels in the book of Revelation aren’t exactly known for their beauty. Lots of heads. Lots of mouths. Lots of ugly things I don’t even want to think about.
    The laughter won’t stop.
    I’m pretty sure I’ve lost whatever’s left of my mind.
    “I’m sorry?” I laugh through the tears. I can barely see between the tears and the black eyes. Black eyes are a pain. Good to know.
    “That’s what I said. I’m sorry.”
    I laugh harder.
    “Have you finally gone crazy? Cause you picked a fine time. Guess it fits the world, though.”
    Thinking about the world sobers me up, but I still have a hard time keeping my laughter to myself. It comes out in little hiccups that burn my throat and hurt my stab wound. Stupid stab wound. Stupid knife. Stupid Seth. Stupid Hart. Stupid world.
    Stupid me.
    “You’re sorry? The great Hart Blackwell, who has not only driven me crazy and done things to me… and the same Hart Blackwell who possessed my aunt and lived with me until I was sixteen… The guy who drove my aunt so crazy she has to live in a mental institution is sorry.” The longer I talk, the less jovial I am and the more venom comes out. With every word, I can feel the fire rising within me, fire that will need to come out eventually.
    He shrugs. He actually, freakin, shrugs. “I’m a demon.”
    I glare. Just one little glare. One little glare that I feel from the tip of my head to the bottom of my feet. I feel the fire in my stomach grow so hot I can’t hold it inside, and the shadowy tunnel in my vision turns red. Next thing I know, I hear a thud and Hart is halfway up the wall, his toes way off the floor, and his face—Sam’s face—is