Chapter 3 #3
My pulse jumps, beats irregularly, and I flush, embarrassed because I’m sure he can feel it.
This is a terrible idea.
His teeth sink in.
The sting is sharp, quick, but it barely registers because something else ignites inside me. Heat sparks low in my body and spreads outward in a slow, liquid rush. Not from blood loss or adrenaline. Something deeper. Heavier. Like my blood suddenly speeds up, racing through my veins too fast.
My fingers curl into the sheets before I can stop them. A strange, tight awareness gathers low in my belly.
Sorren makes a rough sound against my wrist, almost a moan, his mouth still latched to my skin.
A sharp pulse follows, stronger this time, as if something inside me has woken up and doesn’t know where to go.
Sorren inhales against my skin.
Deep.
Greedy.
My body shudders in answer.
His fingers tighten around my wrist, and something electric snaps through me, strong enough to make my back arch. A tiny moan escapes my lips, soft and helpless. Fire rushes up my arm, across my collarbone, spills into my chest like liquid light, and then my body pulls.
Toward him. Like he’s drawing on something more than just my blood.
Like it’s my soul that reaches for him.
Like gravity itself just shifted.
And the most terrifying part is that I don’t want it to stop.
Sorren’s eyes snap open. They’re not human anymore. The pupils have elongated, more oval than round, and for the first time since this whole insane day began he looks just as disoriented as I am.
For one suspended second, the space between us goes strained. Stretched.
Like a rubber band pulled too far.
And then—
Pain.
Not mine.
It crashes through me so suddenly that I gasp. A tearing, echoing ache like something is being scraped out of my chest with dull metal. My stomach twists violently, my lungs locking up like the air has been punched out of them.
For a split second I see it.
Not with my eyes.
With something else.
Cold stone.
Blood soaking into the ground.
Sorren on his knees, a blade buried in his side while a voice above him laughs.
Then it’s gone.
The pain snaps away like a door slamming shut, and I’m back in the bedroom, clutching the sheets, Sorren’s mouth still at my wrist.
For one disorienting second, I don’t know where he ends and I begin.
“What—” My voice breaks. “What was that?”
Sorren jerks back, eyes blown wide.
The warmth snaps inward, like it’s returning back to me. A dizzying rush that leaves my fingertips buzzing and my lungs struggling to catch up.
The air shimmers.
Sorren’s body folds in on itself.
Fast. Wrong. Bones shift under skin with a sickening series of pops that never quite finish before the next one starts.
And then, he’s gone. Just…
Poof.
In his place, a small white rabbit slumps against the sheets, a long red gash on its side that slowly oozes blood. A pile of clothing, his clothing, lays scattered around it. Now empty.
I gasp at it, the small furry creature that minutes before was a man. Up until now, my mind had been divided. Half of me believed Sorren, that he could shift, while the other more logical half firmly did not. Now, those two parts come together so fast I can almost hear them slam into each other.
“Holy shit,” I whisper to myself, but the rabbit’s ears twitch like he hears it too.
This is real.
He was telling the truth.
Which means I don’t know anything at all.
That’s…not a pleasant realization.
Slowly, the warmth I felt when Sorren bit me fades away, but something thinner remains. A faint, tight pressure low in the center of my body, like a thread pulled just slightly too tight. My hand falls uselessly to my lap, the skin at my wrist tingling like it remembers something I don’t.
For a moment, I think I hear another heartbeat.
Not in the room.
Inside me.
Slow. Heavy. Unsteady.
It fades after a second, but the aftereffect of it lingers in my mind.
The rabbit lurches toward me a second later, clumsy, unsteady, trundling across the blankets until he bumps against my thigh.
My breath catches.
Not from fear.
From the way that same tight thread inside my chest pulls when he moves closer.
I scoot backward until I’m leaning against the headboard and gather him into my lap, careful not to touch his wound.
With one hand holding the bunny, I use the other to draw the comforter up over us.
I tuck the creature beneath my chin and wrap my arms around him like I can contain the violence of his trembling. The ragged way he breathes.
His fur is soft beneath my fingers as I stroke him, whispering encouragement and soft shushing noises. He burrows deeper into me, bumping my neck with his warm, wet nose.
It’s easier in this form to touch him. To offer physical comfort. Calm reassurance.
I don’t know when I doze off, only that the fevered heat of him has faded. That his breathing has slowed, and he’s also asleep. I’m not sure how I know that except that somewhere deep in my chest the frantic pulling has finally eased.
Sometime, deep in the night, a velvet nose meets my wrist. The quick sting of sharp teeth followed by a rush of pleasure, almost sensual, makes me moan lightly.
I shift and roll over until I’m nestled against something warm and firm.
Arms come around me. They hold me gently, like I’m precious.
I must be dreaming. There’s no other explanation for the feeling of lips pressed to my hair, for the soft rumble of a deep voice whispering to me.
He tells me I’m okay. That I did good. That he’ll keep me safe.
He says to go back to sleep.
So I do.
I dream of a brown-eyed rabbit in a far-off castle. Not Sorren.
It lifts its head, nose twitching, like it just caught the scent of something important.
Something it’s been hunting.