Naturally, I need to thank my husband for enduring my obsession with imaginary people. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.Ĭover design by Angela Louise McGurk, DEDICATION This is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, licensed, or publically performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the author/publisher, as allowed under the purchase/download or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. The right of Angela McGurk to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 (U.K) and falls under the protection of the Berne Convention for the Protection of Literary and Artistic Works.įirst published by Angela Louise McGurk, published online by Angela Louise McGurk in 2013.įirst published as an eBook by Angela Louise McGurk in 2015.įirst published hardcopy by Angela Louise McGurk in 2015 Even if he did make my heart skip a beat. It became somewhere dark, somewhere filled with murder and blood, where magic was sinister and where even my closest ally seemed more like an enemy. Because when my fangs came in, my world altered irrevocably. Perhaps he’d been talking to himself, persuading himself that one day I’d know and accept his reasons for what he’d planned for me. I’ve often wondered since if he was really talking to me. “One day you’ll understand,” he whispered, his tone subdued. I sighed and surrendered myself as he held me against his front in a lover’s embrace, tipping my head and willingly giving him access to my throat.

The truth was that the man could’ve asked anything of me and I would’ve complied, but he didn’t need to vocalise his request. Yet my lack of rebellion was far from the most unsettling part of the stranger’s control over me. Struggling had been the last thing on my mind, even when my bus arrived and my assailant waved it on, dismissing my last hope of escape.

I should have fought, any person should fight, but my mind had been filled with a hazy calm which forbade any battle. Becoming immortal was to be pulled, to be tugged irrevocably into darkness, and it was silent. Birth implies pushing, tearing forth into the light, screaming. Let me tell you what it was to be made vampire.

Download Bite the Bullet free