Chapter 3 #2
He rolls onto his side toward me like it’s instinct.
One second he’s flat on his back; the next he’s shifting around until he’s tucked behind me, spooning me.
His chest settles against my back. His left knee hooks loosely over my hip.
One arm comes around my waist while the other, thick with muscle, drapes across my upper leg.
“I don’t feel good,” he mumbles, his lips brushing the bare skin of my thigh where my shorts don’t cover.
I go completely still, my hands hovering in the air because I don’t know where to put them. He’s heavy and so hot I can feel him through my clothes.
After a minute, I lower one hand to the center of his back and rub gently between his shoulder blades, the way I do with the kids at school when they’ve got a stomachache.
His arm tightens slightly around my waist. He makes a low sound of appreciation that I feel more than hear.
Awareness hits me a second later, sudden and disorienting.
He’s big. Solid. Pressed up against me.
His muscles bunch and release under my hand. Every inhale expands against my back, every slow exhale is a warm breeze on my leg. His thigh shifts slightly behind mine, warm and heavy, and suddenly I’m very aware of how little space there is between us. Aware of how my heart beats a little too fast.
He cries out, the sound forced through gritted teeth like he doesn’t want it to escape, and a bolt of fear shoots through me.
“Sorren?” I twist to see his face.
His eyes are squeezed shut. His jaw locks tight, tendons standing out in his neck. His body goes rigid, every muscle tensing at once.
“Are—are you okay?” I choke out.
No answer.
A second later his body jerks. Small at first—a twitch against my back, the arm around my waist spasming.
Then the movement spreads.
His spine bows, lifting us both off the mattress before dropping back down with a thud. His teeth slam together with a sharp click, and the bed frame rattles against the wall.
“Sorren—”
His fingers clamp down on my thigh hard enough to bruise. His breath comes short and broken, his eyes rolling beneath his lids as a low, fractured sound vibrates through his chest into my back.
“What’s happening?” I twist, trying to rise, but his arm around my waist locks tight. “What’s wrong with you?”
“It was a banishing blade,” he grits out through clenched teeth.
“The one my uncle struck me with. It doesn’t just wound the body.
It cuts pieces of your soul away until you’re hollow.
” His eyes squeeze shut, and he whispers, almost like he’s talking to himself, “I can already feel it. The pieces of myself that are missing.”
My stomach twists. “That seems—” I swallow. The next word comes out husky. “Bad. That seems really bad.”
Another seizure wracks him, nearly knocking me forward off the bed. When it passes, he goes limp, barely breathing.
Fear spikes sharp and ugly.
“If you think you can just waltz into my life, turn everything upside down, and then die in my guest bedroom, you’ve got another thing coming. That’s not how this works,” I snap. “Tell me what to do.”
Sorren shakes his head once. “I need to heal.”
A violent tremor runs through him, like his body is punishing him for the words.
“Then do it. Heal.”
His eyes open. Glassy with pain. “I cannot.”
“Why?” My voice comes out sharper than I intend. Panic is setting in. I hate feeling helpless like this. “You said you could fix yourself. Use your magic or whatever.”
“I must shift first,” he gasps, curling into a tighter ball. “Into my rabbit form. I’m smaller then. It’s easier to maintain my energy. To find the damaged parts of my soul.”
“So shift.”
“I will not.”
Something in his tone makes me pause. “What do you mean you won’t? Do it.”
“No.” A long quiver goes from his head to his feet, followed by another one.
“Why not?” I throw up my hands. Exasperated.
“I can’t,” he says stubbornly.
“Sure you can. You did it in my classroom. Right? Isn’t that what happened? When the lights flickered and all that.” I lean closer. “Or are you admitting it’s all a lie? You’re just some random guy? A con man?”
That gets him.
He turns his head just enough to glare at me through the pain. “I told you,” he grits out. “I am Prince Sorren Valdren of the White Warren.”
“Then prove it.” I straighten. “Shift. Right now. Turn into a cute little bunny.”
“I am not—” His body jerks. “—cute.”
“You’re adorable. Come on.” I’m goading him now. Trying to trick him into shifting if that’s what he needs. I don’t understand why he’s so resistant. “Come on and shift already.”
Silence.
Not confusion. Not hesitation.
Refusal.
“You’re seriously going to die out of spite?” I shake his shoulder. Not gently. “What’s wrong with you?”
A muscle jumps in his cheek.
“I would rather die,” he says hoarsely, “than deepen the mark I already placed upon you.”
The words land somewhere between my ears and my stomach.
Deepen the mark. What does that mean? I think back to this morning, in my classroom. To what he said earlier about marking me…
“Wait.” I hold out my hands like I’m directing traffic. “Wait. Wait. Wait.”
Sorren arches his back like he’s trying to escape his own skin. His shoulders twitch violently, almost like something inside him wants to kick free. Agony etches a million lines across his face.
“It’s the bite, isn’t it?” I say, piecing it together as I stare down at my finger. The Saturn Band-Aid has grown worn over the course of the day, the edges curled up, dirty and sticky. “You bit me the first time. In the cage and then you became a man.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Right?” I badger. “Isn’t that what happened?”
A tight nod from him.
“So now you’re like a royal vampire bunny?”
That gets me a dirty look, which twists into a grimace of pain.
I take in a deep breath, blow it out, unable to believe what I’m about to say. “Bite me.” I stick out my hand, shove it in front of his face. “If that’s what you need to heal, then do it.”
His attention shifts to my hand and stays there, staring like it’s something dangerous. Something he shouldn’t want.
Sorren jerks his head away. “No.”
I huff. “Why are you being so stubborn about this? It’s one tiny nip. Barely hurt the first time. I was more surprised than anything. Now I’ll know it’s coming.”
“I will not take more from you.” He sets his jaw. “You do not understand.”
His voice has gone rough, not with pain. With restraint.
“You already did it once.”
“Yes.” He freezes the way prey does when it’s trying to decide if it should stay or bolt. “And I felt it.”
A strange, hot shiver works its way down my spine.
“Felt what?”
“You.”
The word is barely audible.
The air thickens between us. His breathing is ragged. My pulse is too loud in my ears.
“When I take your blood,” he says, his voice taut, “it strengthens the bond between us.”
I squint at him. “You say that like it's a normal sentence people say to each other.”
“It is normal where I come from.”
“Fantastic,” I mutter. “So what bond are we talking about exactly?”
“Ours.”
“Me? And you?” I stare at him. “You’re saying you bonded me?”
“No.” His expression hardens. “The bond already existed.”
I throw up my hands. “That’s worse. That’s actually worse.”
He winces at my frustration. “The bite only allows me to use it, but I cannot, should not, bite you. Each time I do, the bond deepens. You will begin to feel me.”
“I already feel you,” I snap. “You’re bleeding on my favorite sheets.”
“That’s not what I meant.” His mouth tightens. “It becomes easier for my uncle’s men to find you.”
Cold trickles down my spine like icy fingers. So intense I actually shiver.
“But they can already do that,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Then what’s the difference?”
His eyes lift to mine.
“The difference,” he says, “is how quickly they will come.” His voice drops lower. “If they find you because of me, they will not be kind.”
He screams. The sound rips through the house, raw, broken. Pain and anguish bleeding into one.
“This is stupid.” I shove my finger back into his face. “According to you, your uncle will send men to kill us, including me. Isn’t that right?”
A miserable nod.
“You can help. Protect me, us, but not like this.” I wave a hand at him. “You have to heal. I’ve been thinking about it. We need to run. Draw them away from my mom. They’ll follow us first, right?”
“Yes.” His voice is ragged. “Our scent will be stronger, like fresh earth after the rain. Impossible to miss. Besides, I’m the one they really want.”
“That’s what I thought.” I lift my hand again, this time slower. Deliberate. “This is the plan. Bite me. Heal up. We get as far away from my mom as possible. After that…” I trail off. “We’ll figure it out later.”
“We need to go to the armory.”
“The where?”
“There is an ancient armory here in your land. Left over from—” He cuts off, his features contorting from pain.
“Bite now. Explain later.”
His gaze moves to my wrist. Hesitates.
“Sorren,” I press.
His lips tighten, but then he moves.
The bed creaks as he moves closer.
He doesn’t grab my finger. Instead, his hand hovers over my wrist, close enough that I feel the heat of his skin before he ever touches me.
He turns my wrist so the inside faces up, brushing his fingertips lightly across the spot where my pulse flutters wildly.
“Here?” he asks quietly. “Is this okay?”
The touch is soft. Testing.
My breath hitches. Speeds up.
He lowers his head, and his breath ghosts across my skin. I feel the warmth of it all the way to my elbow.
He stops and looks up at me.
Waiting.
Like this is my choice.
The world narrows down to this moment, this decision.
I nod.
He lifts my wrist higher, turning it slightly, exposing more of the soft skin there. His fingers wrap around me, not too tight.
I could pull away. If I wanted to.
I don’t.
His eyes lift to mine one last time. A warning.
His mouth lowers. The first contact isn’t teeth.
It’s lips.
Warm. Firm. Intentional.
A kiss.