10. CHAPTER 10
I can do this. I can do this.
It’ll help us get out of here faster and potentially save both our lives. It’s simply logic. And yet, my heart’s going to beat out of my chest.
I extend a leg out in front of me, and she crouches between my legs. Damn! I’m basically on full display right in front of her. I move my arm and hand, trying to conceal and cover myself, but it’s nearly impossible in these boxer briefs. And her body, the swell of her breasts and her shapely hips stretching the black lacy underwear…
Bleh! Stop it.
I bite my lip and look off to the far corner, diverting my attention from the barely present lace.
“Okay, let’s do this.” My voice sounds more gravelly than normal. This is going to be so awkward. Shifting my thoughts, I focus on the pain to come and not on the fact that she’s between my legs. Her mouth’s getting closer and closer to my…
Nope. Prepare for the pain.
She’s going to make me bleed. It will sting but it’ll help her. Help us.
Focus on the end goal.
Her soft lips brush my inner thigh, followed by a couple of quick swipes of her tongue, and my blood flows south making it even harder to conceal myself. Her fangs graze my skin, pressing lightly, and my pulse pounds in my ears. I hiss when the skin breaks, and a sharp burning radiates from the spot. This stings more than the tattoo on my shoulder did.
Just breathe through it. I can do this.
She bites deeper, moaning against my thigh and—
Ohhhh damnnn.My eyes roll back in my head.
The painful burn shifts suddenly to a spreading warmth. It moves further down, like being submerged in a hot tub, and my toes curl from the sensation. And it’s moving up, past my hips, past my stomach, into my chest and higher. My breath catches, the warm waves radiate throughout my body. I stiffen and lengthen in the matter of seconds.
“Oh, shit.” I try to position my arm to shield my growing hardness from her, but it’s useless. Using my right hand, I hold my twitching length down against my leg, so I’m not flag poling in front of her face. The warmth rises, passing my throat, and my head falls back against the wall. She bites even deeper. My breathing quickens, each inhale sending a rush of tingles coursing through my veins.
I’ve never been this aroused, this achingly hard. Head leaned back and eyes squeezed shut, I try to tame my arousal. I can’t look at her barely dressed, leaning over me, inches from my hard—
Ok, stop. Breathe.
Panting, my fingers twitch involuntarily, my grip slips, and I spring to attention. The fabric rubbing against my throbbing hard-on pulls a groan deep from my core. Like every nerve ending in my body is on high alert, sensitive to the slightest touch. The movement, the friction, the warming pulses through my system, all of it and everything. It’s too much and yet not enough. What pleasant torture is this?
Her slender fingers wrap around my wrist. My eyes spring open, locking with hers, and she moves my hand toward the towering fabric. Her gaze dripping with passion, she subtly shakes her head when I try to lower it, the movement of her fangs inside me slightly stinging. What does she want me to do? I pause with my hand around myself. Still holding my wrist, she moves up and down as her tongue licks my flesh.
I allow her to move my hand, my lips parting with a deep moan. She lets go of my wrist but keeps staring at me. Her mouth pressed against my thigh, her ruby eyes blinking up at me, the slight tug and pull of my blood… The sensations overwhelm me, and I can’t think straight enough to stop. I slowly stroke myself, and she sucks deeper. I’ve never touched myself in front of someone like this. I really shouldn’t be, but damnnn if it doesn’t feel amazing. At least there’s still fabric covering me.
She’s so confident and sexy. I want to be deep inside her while she feeds from me. Mmm. My movements slow to long strokes with each draw of my blood, it’s the best edging I’ve ever had…desire floods every nerve. I want to fill her in every way. I shiver at the thought.
I should be more afraid. What she’s doing could kill me…and yet, I’d welcome that death if it meant I got to enjoy this longer. Her pulls become more shallow and less frequent. It’s coming to an end. My grip tightens as I savor every last tingle, all the warmth and the softness of her skin against mine.
Her gaze turns back towards my thigh, and she extracts her fangs, the pressure retreating with them. My hand slows and stops stroking, my body finally responding to my mental commands again. She licks the wound closed and sucks the area to create a disguising hickey.
She sits back, licking my blood from her lips. What the hell do I say after that? What’s the social protocol for this? The air thickens with a mix of lust and awkwardness. I glance down, examining the darkening bruise on my thigh, no sign of bite marks. And oh hell, I’m still rock hard. I pull my legs to my chest to hide that fact, even though she’s more than aware.
“You taste fucking amazing.” She giggles breathlessly. Her grin’s so adorable I can’t help but smile back.
“Um, thanks, I think.” My cheeks flame. “I’m sorry about the…” My hand gestures awkwardly at my crotch. God, what do I even call that?
She shakes her head before I can finish my thought.
“Don’t stress about it. Like at all. It’s a natural instinct and pleasurable experience on both ends. It’s pointless to try to fight it.”
Wait. What? Both ends? “You felt that way too?”
She bites her lip and nods silently.
“And that’s normal?”
“The pleasure aspect? Yeah. It’s not sexual when it’s blood bags or animals, that feels more like a cold shower or a gallon of fresh water on an excruciatingly hot day. But with a person, regardless of the gender, yeah. It sparks pleasure.” She glances down at her hands. “Told you it wouldn’t hurt long.”
“That it didn’t.” I can’t resist leisurely scanning her body. I want nothing more than to touch every inch of her. Okay, that’s a lie. I’d rather taste every inch of her. I want to slide the straps of her lacy bra off her shoulders, skim my fingers over the rounded curves, following the tease of a bra cup. I want to nibble the hardened peaks poking through the thin material.
“So, not too bad then? And you feel okay?” She looks up, pink coloring her cheeks, the tips of her ears rosy, the blush spreading down her chest.
“Not bad at all.” I close my eyes and drop my head back against the wall, sighing contentedly.
She stands and takes a hesitant step toward me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Ha.” A humorless laugh comes out. “Yeah. I’m just having extremely inappropriate thoughts. And I barely know you.” I take a deliberately deep breath. “Just give me a couple minutes to clear my head some.”
I don’t open my eyes, but the smile is clear in her voice. “Yeah, of course. Take your time.”
After a few minutes, I lift my head to see her sitting across from me on the cot and rotating her ankle in slow circles. Grabbing my torn pants, I turn away from her and pull them up. Then walk over to sit on the edge of the cot. With a nod, I ask, “How’s the ankle feeling?”
“It’s very tight, but I’m able to rotate it without any pain.”
“Do you mind if I take a look?” What am I doing? I just got myself under control and now I’m doing anything I can to touch her again.
“Not at all.” She swings her leg in my direction.
Don’t look at her lacey underwear. Don’t be a creep!
Plus, I’m still too on edge hormonally. It will cause the problem I just willed away.
Focus on her injuries. Focus!
Lifting her foot, I slide my thumb from her heel up the underside of her ankle then feel around both sides. Pressing softly and then more firmly. “Does any of this hurt?”
“No. It doesn’t hurt at all. Just stiff and doesn’t want to move.”
“Amazing. I’m going to stretch and loosen the muscles. Tell me if anything’s uncomfortable or hurts.”
“Okay.”
I rotate her foot in different directions, pressing the foot upward and pulling it downward. Her breath catches when I massage up the sides of her ankle and calf.
“Do you think it’ll be healed enough to escape tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I think with your blood and more rest tonight, I’d be able to try tomorrow.” She bites on her nails and looks away from me.
“What’s the matter?”
“I, uh…” She looks back at me with a ducked chin. “I just don’t think my glamour will work. It barely does on my feedings, and even that I haven’t done in years.”
“What other option do we have?”
“I could fake it through the experiments again then we attack when they bring me back. I wouldn’t have to glamour them, and they wouldn’t be expecting the attack.”
“But we don’t know what kind of condition you’ll be brought back in.”
“We can’t live in what-ifs. We don’t know if they’ll experiment on me again. And even if they do, it helped escalate my healing last time. I can pretend I’m worse off and once the cage is open, you attack the one closest to you, and I’ll go for the other.”
“And if I’m tasered again?”
“Again, a what-if. Try not to be?” Her eyebrow quirks in time with her smirk. I want to tickle the smugness off her face. But I don’t know her well enough, plus touching her that intimately would lead me back to the lustful minefield I just left.
“I don’t like it. But it’s the only plan we have. So, one more day and we attempt when they bring you back tomorrow evening?”
“Yeah. We should try to rest while we can. Want to share this cot with me?” She scoots over, offering me half the mat.
“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.” I lie down and stare at the ceiling, my fingers twitching at her closeness. I’ve controlled myself thus far. Mostly. But being this close… Her body heat warming my skin, the faint scent of caramel teasing me further… I want to bury my face in her hair, slide my hands down the curve of her back, grasp her juicy—
Ugh, stop.
I breathe deeply and replay our escape plan for the thousandth time. This has to be the shittiest idea. But I don’t have a better one. My heart races, and I rub the tension straining my neck, fighting the urge to pace. I need to have a game plan, so I don’t get tasered. What would they expect me to do? I still have the shards of glass. Could I hide and utilize one of them? Or—my gaze turns to Teagan at the faintest snore, melting a fraction of my concern. She’s curled in a fetal position with her hair splayed around her shoulders, like a halo. I’m not going to think of the worst. I’m going to get this angel out of here no matter what.
Wyatt elbows me awake when the metal doors scrape open, and I sit up, listening to the distant conversation.
Wyatt leans over and whispers in my ear. “Are we doing—” I silence him with a finger pressed against his lips. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline. He sucks in a deep breath but remains quiet while looking at me expectantly.
They’re muffled, but I can make out the same two voices from the other day. The thinner one says, “Help me lift him. We’ll take him to the open cell in the back then come back for the girl.”
The fatter one grunts. “Fuck! He’s huge. Are you sure you sedated him enough?”
“I doubled the normal amount.” Keys jangle and their feet scuffle across the concrete. Wyatt’s head turns in their direction.
One of them sucks in a quick breath, and faint, frantic whispering reaches me, but even straining, I can’t make anything out clearly. I stand and walk closer to the door.
The thinner one exhales a heavy sigh. “This fucking door is faulty. I can’t get it to lock.” His tone is clear and sharp. “Let’s put him in with the girl for now until I can get a repair guy out here.”
“What about with the boy?” the other man asks.
“He might turn on him with how far gone he is. We can’t chance it.”
They’re huffing and grunting, their feet scuffing towards the cell, slow and labored. They come into view, and I slowly back away from the door. Saying the guy’s huge is an understatement. Besides professional basketball players, I’ve never seen someone so tall. The thinner guy’s struggling to keep a grip under both arms of an enormous unconscious man while shuffling backwards. The fatter man’s between the giant’s legs, carrying him just above the knees. They’re trying to support the man’s weight, but he’s still sagging between the two, his large limbs swaying and brushing the floor with their awkward, waddling movements.
“You guys are getting some company temporarily. Go stand by the back wall so we don’t have to taser anyone this early,” huffs the skinnier one. He’s obviously the one more in charge here.
Both Wyatt and I take two steps backwards, touching our backs to the cold, hard surface. The larger one detangles himself, dropping the man’s legs to the floor and stepping around to unlock the door.
“You don’t plan to release us, do you?” I can’t help but ask. I know it’s a long shot, but any answers we get could help.
“When we’re successful with our tests, I’d be happy to let you go.” His smile is almost wicked. He has no intention of letting any of us go. “Jeff. Point the taser at them so I can drag him the rest of the way in.” The fatter one—Jeff, apparently—flinches. He nods and lifts the taser in our direction, still panting heavily.
“Your tests haven’t been successful before, have they?” My voice drips with distaste.
Jeff stiffens and aims the taser at me.
The thinner one just heaves the enormous man into the cell with jagged pulls. He drops him in a heap in the corner, sweat dripping from his forehead. Between heavy breaths, he says, “You have the rope. Tie him up.”
Jeff, still watching us, rolls the guy onto his side and loops rope around his wrists and ankles. The skinnier guy leaves the cell and tosses in a bagged sandwich that plops into the center of the floor, followed by a plastic water bottle filled with blood that bounces across the concrete, rolling to a stop against the cot.
I look up from the bottle when the door’s lock clicks back into place.
Jeff asks the other, “I thought we were starting with her?”
His eyes narrow. “We are, but she needs to finish the bottle first. Or we’ll have to taser and sedate her,” he says with a pointed look at me. “We’ll bring more food later.” He nods to the heaped-up man on the floor. “This is unpleasant, and unexpected, but if we all work together, we can find answers, and let you guys all go sooner.”
It’s been a long while since I smelled the acidic, almost ashy scent of such a blatant lie. Small white lies don’t put off that much odor and are harder to detect. This strong, though… There’s no plan for ever letting any of us go. Answers or not, he gets a sick pleasure out of testing his subjects.
Jeff turns back to us as the other guy heads for the exit. “We’ll be back in a moment. Drink the bottle and be cooperative. Please don’t anger Bret.” He gives a small smile then follows Bret down the hallway.
Wyatt, not wasting a second once they round the corner, turns me to face him. “Does this change our plans?”
“I don’t know. I think we still need to try but there’s another person to worry about now.” I toss the sandwich to Wyatt then retrieve the bottle and flush its contents.
He paces the short distance. “I don’t know what to do.”
“We go on as planned. If I’m strong enough when I’m brought back, I’ll wink at you as we enter the cell, and we’ll go from there. If I can’t do that, we have no hope of the plan working, and we’ll need to figure something else out, regardless.”
My head snaps towards the hallway. “They’re coming back.” I slide down the wall, letting the bottle roll from my fingers and lolling my head forward.
Bret rounds the corner, followed closely by Jeff.
“You know the drill. Back against the wall.” Bret unlocks the door.
Jeff holds up the taser, pointed at Wyatt.
My blood boils. The thought of them hurting him… This protective urge I’ve never felt flares to life in my gut. I want to tear them both to pieces, limb by limb, and bask in their blood. I’ve never wanted to straight-out murder anyone before, not even Patrick. But these two, if they hurt Wyatt, I’ll destroy them both.
Bret scoops up my upper body while Jeff, still pointing the taser at Wyatt, grabs my ankles, and they carry me out.
Remain lax. Don’t tense.
Bret stops to shut and lock the door then carries me back down the hall and into the testing room.
How am I going to fake this? I can withstand a surprising amount of pain, but I’ve never tried not to cry out before. Withstanding pain is different from showing no reaction to it. But I have to do this.
They put me down on the hard table, the freezing metal chilling my already cold skin.
Don’t shiver. Mind over matter. You got this. Don’t move. Remain lax.
Tight straps secure my ankles then my wrists and torso. A chair rolls up to the table on squeaky wheels. “Hey, toss me my phone. I’m going to text our maintenance guy about the faulty lock on the cell door.” Bret’s in the chair next to me.
Jeff’s moving around by my head. Same breathing pattern. I’ve got this.
“He says he’ll swing by tomorrow to look.” He tosses the phone. My muscles lock. It clanks against a wooded surface.
Don’t move, don’t flinch. Remain still.
“Perfect. I don’t like the idea of three of them being kept together.” Jeff’s fiddling with some beeping machine in the room’s corner.
“So true. I wasn’t expecting to get another test subject this soon. Talk about convenience that we got him tonight.” Bret twists my wrist over. Don’t tense, let him turn it. “Pass me the syringe so we can start the first test.”
“Here. And I know. He’s so massive, though. We might have to adjust some of our formulas. How much do you think he weighs, anyhow?”
“We’ll need to weigh him to be sure, but he’s got to be over 260.” He rolls back towards my head, and it takes a lot of effort not to cringe at the high-pitched squeaky wheels. “Okay, starting test one now. Dictate the notes, and tell me when to inject.”
“Subject: Isabella Hughes. Day Two. Test One. Current vitals include temperature at 100.3 and pulse at 146. Both of which are higher than yesterday. Proceed with the injection. Time is 3:16 pm.”
I hold back a wince at the sting piercing my arm. A slow warmth radiates from the point. What the hell did they give me?
From a position behind the head of the table, Jeff dictates. “Timer set for five minutes for re-evaluation.”
Bret kicks his feet up to rest on the metal table. “I forgot to tell ya, heard from Mike at the Phoenix facility.”
“Oh really? What did he want?”
I feel funny. Something isn’t right. It’s like my body’s struggling to work like it should. My heart’s beating sluggishly.
Just focus on their conversation.
I’m trying to, but I’m caring less and less with each slowing heartbeat. “He was asking questions about our operations in general and about our latest subjects. They’ve been tracking a man and his daughter for a while but then the girl disappeared. When they captured the man, they found evidence he was preparing to come here. It might be this one’s father.”
“And why does he care now about our operations?”
“They are experimenting with additives and hormones to increase his strength and stamina. His higher ups were wanting to do tests on subjects who were related.”
Focus, Teagan, they’re talking about Patrick.He was in Phoenix and not behind this.
“Gross. Seriously? They haven’t learned their lesson after the fucked-up monstrosities they’ve created?” Jeff’s voice drips with disgust.
I’m not going to be able to hold out much longer. Everything’s straining inside my body…
Focus on Bret’s words and don’t react.
“He was asking about our research. I think he might be realizing the trouble they’re creating. He sounded concerned.”
Jeff scoffs and slams a fist against a table, and by pure will, I don’t flinch. “Such stupid idiots. Here we’re trying to cure this problem, and they’re out there creating more. But what do they care? They don’t. They just want the best soldiers. It’s disgusting.” The timer chimes behind me. “Does that mean it didn’t work again?”
“He said it semi-worked this time, not perfected but not as wasted as the others were. But I think it’s clicking just how messed up their work is.” Bret drops his feet and feels my wrist for my pulse. “Time 3:21pm, temperature 93.6 and pulse 68.”
“Recorded. So, is he switching sides, then? We aren’t handing over one of our subjects to them. They can find their own.” asks Jeff.
Bret’s squeaky wheels roll down by my feet. “Of course we aren’t. And I can only hope so. Note, I’m cutting an inch-deep laceration in the subject’s left thigh.”
I’m not okay.
I need more oxygen. My…my lungs… Ohhhh God. My chest’s burning, and I involuntarily wince and gasp from a sharp pain in my leg.
“Shit. She’s waking.” Bret’s loud chair rolls closer to my head. “Sedate her. Now.”
There’s a sting in my arm, and everything slows even more. Am I still breathing? Everything feels kind of numb, and I can’t hear them anymore. I blink open my eyes to the swaying fluorescent light, spots filling my vision, but then everything shifts to grey and then black…
I hate this. They take her away and do who knows what to her. And I’m trapped in this damn cell. Useless. Pointless. Helpless.
The memory invades too quickly for me to stop it. One second, I’m frustrated in a glass cage, the next…
I’m staring down at Hope’s limp, cooling body in my arms. I squeeze tighter, as if physically holding her closer to me will keep her with me, but it won’t. It’s not enough. I’m not enough. I can’t do anything to save her. I’m just sitting here watching the color drain from her skin as her blood soaks deep, drenching my clothing. The chill of the night air stings my tear-streaked cheeks. Distant sirens are getting louder, and I can’t stop rocking her lifeless body back and forth.
My gut clenches so painfully, I bend forward, wrapping my arms around my torso. I slump onto myself. I never wanted to feel this way again. My eyes glisten and arms tighten around my stomach. I promised myself I’d be more proactive. Never helpless again. And yet, here I am.
I blink back the moisture and look at the man crumpled on the floor. I’m not all alone or completely useless. While I couldn’t save Hope, I can make sure he’s okay. And I have to do something. I force myself upright, still clutching my stomach, and walk over to the unconscious man. I crouch and lean forward to roll him onto his back. There are no visible wounds, but he could have internal bleeding. Or they could’ve drugged him. His wrists are clamped together with dirty, fraying rope. I move closer to his neck and press two fingers to check his pulse. It’s incredibly fast, but at least he has one.
I lift his eyelids to check his retinas. Dull red eyes shine back, unfocused. Luckily, that doesn’t freak me out as much as it would’ve twelve hours ago. I move a finger across the line of his vision to see if there’s any traction, but there’s no change. I let his eyelid drop and lift his upper lip to check the color of his gums. Even half-expecting them, I instantly let go and suck in a quick breath at the sight of his descended fangs. When I glance back up at his eyes, both are now open and focused perfectly on me.
“Jesus!” I instinctively jump backwards, falling to my butt and scrambling further away.
A small smile curves one side of the stranger’s lips. “I don’t recommend that,” he whispers in a deep baritone voice, and the tiny hairs on my arms stand tall.
“Recommend what?” My voice cracks.
“I said I don’t recommend it. If you’re asking what I do recommend… well, that list is vast, but let’s start with getting the hell out of here.” He has a slight accent, but I can’t place it. He pushes himself up to a seated position while examining the cell.
“So, you’re a Vanamisch too?”
“What do you think?” One eyebrow lifts, and he cocks his head. “What are you called?”
My body’s rigid like stone. I wet my dry lips. “I’m human.”
“Well, obviously. I meant your name. Unless you wish me to address you as simply human?” His deep voice and intimidating size, combined with the confined space, trigger my flight or fight reflex.
“Oh, um.” I clear my throat. “No. I’m Wyatt. And you are?”
“Tilly will suffice. And the girl?”
Is he asking about Teagan? He was unconscious when he was brought in. He can’t be wondering about her. I look around the outside of our cage just to be certain another girl hasn’t appeared. I look back at him with a wrinkled brow. “What girl?”
“Ooh, how true. There could be many girls.” He nods absently and pushes himself up with his elbows into a seated position. “I’m curious about the one residing in this enclosure with you. Or I guess us, now.” His head tilts.
What the hell do I say to that? How much can I tell him? I’m not even sure he can be trusted. I’m so far out of my comfort zone right now.
My eyes narrow. “How do you know there was a girl? You were unconscious.”
“Was I now? Hmm.” His right eyebrow arches in question. “Just like she was?”
I swallow. Goosebumps coat my arms, and I rest my trembling hands in my lap.
“Does she have a name for ease of conversation purposes?”
What name do I give him? Isabella? Teagan?
He chuckles softly. “It doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t change anything. What’s your plan for escape?”
“She was going to glamour them once they brought her back, and I was going to rush them while they’re dazed.”
His eyes assess me from head to toe and back up again. “Are you certain there are only two of them?”
“Certain? No. But we’ve only seen those two.”
He nods and looks around the cell. “No cameras. One tiny window and one door locked from the outside. A sink, toilet, and one cot. Not many options. Why didn’t you guys do that prior to them taking her?”
I gulp. I shouldn’t be telling him all her stuff. It’s not my place, and I don’t know who the hell he is anyway. I can’t reveal how weak her glamour is and that we’re hoping for the element of surprise. I silently shake my head.
“Hmm.” He puffs out a humorless laugh. “Interesting.”
“Why didn’t you glamour them before they took you?” The bite and edge of my voice shock me. I’m not confrontational under normal circumstances, and this guy could break me easily.
“I was jumped from behind and tasered.” He glances down at his bound hands then lifts his tied wrists to his mouth. His lips skim back, exposing fangs twice the size of hers. With a downward slash, his fangs slice through the rope, and its tattered remains waft to the concrete floor. My heart’s beating in my throat, and I scoot back until the wall stops me. I wish there was more space between us. His eyes remain locked on mine as he leans towards his ankles and swiftly unties them.
My stomach churns and the tiny hairs rise along my arms. “Why would they put three of us in one cell? It doesn’t make sense.” I furrow my brows and battle the temptation to look away, my intuition screaming at me to stay focused on him.
He shrugs and gives me a cheeky grin showing full fang, then shoves himself up, amplifying my unease. I tense as he walks over to the discarded, red-tinted water bottle and snatches it up. He angles his face away and rinses the bottle.
“Do you know what they’re doing back there? Why we’re here?” He nods in the direction they walked off in. So, he wasn’t unconscious at all. Why didn’t he attack them before they locked him in this cell? I don’t understand.
He fills the bottle with water, caps it, and sits in the center of the room, facing away from me. I don’t enjoy being this close to him, but at least his back is to me. He tosses the bottle against the glass wall and catches it when it ricochets back.
Bang… Catch. I twitch from the sound.
Bang… Catch.
“They’re running tests to try to cure your kind.”
He momentarily pauses. “Ha!” His head tilts towards the ceiling, and a boisterous laugh rumbles from his chest. “A cure? Well, isn’t that comical?”
Bang… Catch. A tingle runs down my spine and I flinch each time the bottle hits the hard surface.
Bang… Catch.
My stomach drops. “Why is that funny?”
Bang… Catch.
Bang… Catch. My muscles ache from the tension. “Because they caused this. Well…partly.” He pauses briefly, lost in his thoughts, then his gaze snaps back to me over his shoulder. “But that doesn’t explain you. Why are you here? Meals on wheels?” A hint of a fang peeks from his mocking smile.
Sweat breaks out across my forehead, and my limbs feel heavy. “Ehh. No. They haven’t touched or bothered me. They said wrong time and place, and I don’t think they know what to do with me.”
An eyebrow arches in question. “Really? They haven’t done anything to you. No one has fed from you?” His head tilts, and his stare bores into my soul.
I don’t know how he knows, but he knows she drank from me. My chin slowly drops and air rushes out of my parted lips, taking all my scattered thoughts with it.
“Ha.” A soft chuckle. “Don’t worry.” He tosses the bottle into the corner and swings himself around in an almost dance-like fashion to be next to the wall. Facing me. He moved so fast, my chest tightens. “I’m not hungry.” He lets his head fall back as he drapes a leg over his other bent knee and bounces a foot in the air. Between his restlessness and his size, my nerves are even more fried. He’s got to be lying. His fangs and eyes say otherwise. Or maybe he’s just weak like Teagan was? But she was hungry then… The muscles in my back stiffen. Will he attack me?
I don’t feel funky anymore. Thank goodness. How long have I been out?
Jeff’s foggy voice reaches me from my feet. “Test Two failed. Her wounds are healing faster than yesterday, not slower as we wished.”
Bret slams something down against a table next to me. “This doesn’t make any sense. Nothing we gave her should’ve expedited her healing.”
“Maybe it was the blood transfusion?” Jeff questions.
“We’ve run that test numerous times. We’re completely transfusing them with human blood. As noted, it sparks healing, but at their normal rate. This is so much faster. It makes no damn sense. Look.” Bret slices my arm.
I suck in a breath from the pain piercing to my bone. “She’s waking again.”
“On it,” Jeff calls from my side.
Another sting follows.
“Look at the wound. It’s already…” Their voices fade out with my thoughts.