“Again?”
Michael and Eli escorted Delia down an alleyway filled with the lowest of the low. Crackheads and dealers, along with some of the more unfortunate in society—the homeless. They meandered through the small pockets of people with menacing glares cut on anyone who looked too long at them or too closely, and Delia’s shoulders squared as she nodded her head.
A week had passed by since she and Michael had gone to live with Cassie and Eli, and they were redoubling their efforts on getting her bloodlust under control. So far, she was doing remarkably well, even when confronted with a man with a needle sticking out of his arm with the tiniest drop of blood leaking from the puncture.
She’d stumbled just long enough at that for Michael to reach out to her, but she shook her head vehementl
