21. Dante #2
My stomach lurches at the thought of drinking blood and I turn my mouth away, jaw tightening, repulsed by the idea even as I fight not to let it show.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, “there is no way I can force myself to drink any blood. It doesn’t matter that you’re a vampire. I’d never even drink human blood.”
Her head tilts, eyes narrowing as she studies me. For a beat she doesn’t speak, just stares like she’s trying to solve a riddle. Then her lips part, her tone bemused as she admits, “I can’t reconcile that you’re the offspring of Terrance.”
A grunt breaks from me, part pain, part laugh, the movement grinding my bruised ribs until it steals my breath. “I’d like to think I’m more like my mother.”
The moment the thought of her brushes my thoughts, panic punches through my chest. My hands fly up, trembling so badly they can’t find their way to my collar.
The motion is frantic and clumsy, my breath coming quicker as my fingers slip uselessly against my blood-stiff shirt.
“Is it still there?” The words tear out sharp and desperate. “My chain?”
Briar blinks, then leans just close enough to look. She nods once, a faint smile breaking the sharp line of her mouth. “It is. I’m assuming that’s from your mom?”
I swallow hard, the pressure in my chest cracking something I’ve kept locked down for years.
My father never let me speak of her. I haven’t heard her name out loud in years, and now the thought of her sits raw and exposed between us.
“Yeah,” I manage, my voice cracking. “It’s the only thing I have left to remember her. ”
Briar nods, mercifully shifting the weight of the conversation away from the chain and the hollow ache it leaves in me.
Her voice steadies, practical again as if she senses my discomfort with the topic.
“You don’t need much of my blood, so just think about your favorite food for a few seconds and it’ll be over in a flash. ”
I don’t answer at first. My throat instantly tightens as my gut twists at the idea.
She studies me once more, eyes narrowing just slightly, and when she speaks again, there’s no softness left, only practicality. “Look, I don’t know if we’re clear of your father and his guards, but I know you need to be strong enough to fight back if we aren’t. We’re not going back there, Dante.”
The words slam into me harder than the crash of our vehicle did.
We’re out. Out of the compound.
Somehow through the haze, I knew that, but it escaped my focus, almost feeling like a dream.
I can feel the truth of it now, in the open air on my face, the stretch of stars overhead, and the silence not broken by boots thumping against tile and the mechanical whirring of cameras following all movement.
If we’re found…my gut churns violently with the thought of what my father will do, of what it will mean if we fail now.
My resistance to drinking her blood buckles under the thought. I drag in a sharp breath and tilt my head toward her waiting wrist. “Okay.”
Briar presses the torn skin of her wrist against my mouth with practiced ease, muttering as she does, “Good boy.”
The words slip through my mind, teasing and curling low in my chest where they have no business stirring anything at all. It’s wrong, the way the soft, dulcet sound of her voice on those words makes my heart flutter. I can’t stop the tremor it sends racing through me as her blood touches my tongue.
After my first swallow, the change rushing through my body is instantaneous.
The pounding in my skull dulls, vision sharpening at the edges until the stars stop swimming in the sky above me.
Warmth spreads through my chest, sliding into my limbs, and steadying the tremor in my hands.
I feel skin tightening and stitching together, every breath feeling a little looser than the last.
Yet behind the relief I feel in my body repairing itself, a single thought still swirls around my mind, heavy with guilt: I don’t deserve for her to heal me when I couldn’t stop her pain for the past month.
Then Callum’s voice cuts across the field, shaky but clear enough to raise every hair on my neck. “Uh…Briar. Do you happen to know these people?”
I push up instantly, jerking my mouth from her wrist. Instinct takes the reins before thought does, and I lurch to my feet, quick to jump in front of her, body braced against whatever’s coming. If it’s my father’s men, they’ll deal with me before they have a chance to touch her.
I’m no longer a bystander, and I will do whatever I can to make amends with her.
But Briar is already moving, pushing around me, faster than I can track, and what the moonlight spills across the field in front of us isn’t what either of us are expecting.
A gasp falls from Briar as my brow knits, taking in the three figures that absolutely are not guards or a unit from my father’s compound.
Two large men with rippling muscle down their arms stand locked against Callum and Elias, blades pressed to their throats as their bright red eyes break through the night to pin me to the spot.
Vampires.
In front of them, a woman advances, her features striking enough to steal my breath. The resemblance is undeniable–the same tanned skin, flowing white hair, and similar body composition of the woman who has consumed my thoughts the past month.
A ragged sob rips from Briar before her trembling voice whispers, “Mom?”
She rushes forward at the same time cold metal kisses my temple.
A voice ghosts against my ear. “Don’t move a fucking muscle, hunter.”