21. CHAPTER 21
Being at work is an adjustment, and I don’t think I’m ready for it. Hell, I’m still trying to get a handle on all the sensations. This ER is too much. All the noises, smells, and people. The constantly swooshing front doors. The harshness of the air mixing with the bitterness of the whitewashed walls. My skin’s itching from all the blinking lights on medical equipment and the flashing lights of ambulances. And the receptionist’s squeaky chair makes me almost murderous. My agitation is growing higher and higher with every minute.
And then there’s the smell of blood. All the blood. From wounds to blood bags. Everywhere I look, I see it. Smell it. I wasn’t even hungry. I ate before coming, thinking ahead and trying to be prepared. But it didn’t help one bit. Everywhere I turn, it’s the first thing I notice, and my gums ache at the pressure of my fangs wanting to lengthen.
Not to mention the weirdness of realizing who around me is Vanamisch. Teagan told me like knows like, that I’ll be able to sense it just being around someone, which I didn’t believe until I walked into the ER. Dr. Hart walked past me earlier, pausing long enough to arch an eyebrow and gave me a discreet nod before moving on, and I knew immediately. How can he work in the OR and be around so much blood? Teagan seems to control herself all right. Maybe it’s less of an issue if you’re born this way and grow up with it rather than having a blood honing switch flipped like me?
I can’t stay still, constantly on the move or shifting from foot to foot. Everyone’s getting more on edge around me, but I can’t stop. Every time I try to pause for a moment, my gums ache and saliva fills my mouth. I keep envisioning piercing flesh, blood coating my mouth, sliding down my throat, and relieving this growing pressure inside of me. The desire to feed is becoming overwhelming. I can’t do this.
The fact it’s a Friday evening and we’re already close to capacity due to a pub crawl gone wrong isn’t helping my situation. Normally, I love busier nights, but there’s no way I’m lasting this whole shift.
Finishing a round of the floor, I return the charts to the front desk. My fingers curl into fists, and a light sweat beads across my forehead. At the large whiteboard, I shake the tightness from my hands and uncap a dry erase marker. I fan my sweating face with one hand while making status change updates to different patients on the board. My skin tingles as I recap the marker and examine the growing list of patients. The itchiness spreads down my limbs and pricks at the back of neck.
Don’t scratch. Just breathe.
Not aware of my surroundings, too immersed in my own bodily functions and drowning in all the stimulation around me, I flinch and jolt back a step when Sarah steps up next to me to make a note on the board.
She gasps, wide eyed, and steps away from me. “Sorry, Dr. Keane. I, ah, I can update it later.” She turns, bolting from my sight.
My muscles stiffen against the compelling urge to follow her, sink my fangs into her throat, and douse this hunger. My pulse races and my canines lengthen.
Shit. I can’t control this right now. I duck my head, rushing to the breakroom. Stepping inside and dragging my hands through my hair, I breathe out a sigh of relief to the empty room and a small reprieve.
I dig out my cell phone and drop onto the couch in the corner, hitting call while I settle back and will my fangs to retract.
Teagan answers on the first ring, concern in her tone. “Hey, what happened? Is everything okay?”
I bend forward, dropping my head to rest in my free hand. “Not really. I’m kind of freaking out.”
“Oh no. What’s going on?”
“It’s all too much. There’s blood everywhere, my gums are on fire, and my restraint’s cracking. I can’t do this.”
“Of course you can. Just try to take a break or go for a walk, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“You’re coming here?” My breath catches, and butterflies swarm my stomach.
“Yeah, of course. I want to help you.”
“But how can you?” This is pointless. How am I expected to work an entire shift like this? I might have to think about a new career. No clue how Dr. Hart manages.
“Let’s worry about that when I’m there, okay? Go for a walk, and I’ll be there soon.”
“Yeah. Alright.”
I’m sitting out front on the bench, facing away from the ambulance lane. Trying my damnedest to focus on the sound of the bird jumping from branch to branch on the tree in front of me. It’s helping, but I don’t know how I’ll function once I go back in the ER.
I’m so focused on the bird—the patter of its feet as it walks across the branch and its tiny chirps—that I jump, startled, and almost fall off the bench when Teagan touches my shoulder.
“Hey. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” I sit back onto the bench.
She sits right next to me but doesn’t touch me. “So, what’s going on?”
“I’m feeling overstimulated, and there’re so many people, and even more blood. It’s all I can think about.” My hands clutch the fabric of my scrubs.
Her head tilts. “Are you hungry?”
“I wasn’t. I mean, I tried to be preventative, and I fed prior to coming in.”
“But you are. I can feel the bloodlust coming off you.” She touches my wrist gently and when I don’t flinch, she pulls me to my feet, moving us back inside. “Come on, let’s go take care of that.”
“How?” My feet slow. All the sights, sounds, and aromas of people tighten every fiber of my being. My teeth clench, and my shoes feel heavier with every step.
She takes us down a side hallway and opens a custodian’s closet. I follow her in, but not without checking the hallway to make sure we weren’t noticed.
“You’re going to feed then we’ll scout out backup options for you. Like this closet, or any other private areas you can go when it’s all too much. There’s also the blood bank. They work with us, and you can set up routine pickups. Or if it’s an emergency, you can go there for a fix. I’ll introduce you to Tina, and she’ll make sure you’re covered.”
“You make it sound so easy.” I’m trembling, and sweat’s rolling down the back of my shirt. “I can’t do this. I can’t control any of it. I’m not strong enough. I’m going to hurt someone.” The floor shifts…or am I tilting? I sway then press my back against the wall. Something, anything, to stabilize me.
“Whoa.” She grabs my shoulders, holding me still against the wall. “Focus on me. We’re alone in this room. There’s no one else but me and you.” She brushes perspiration off my forehead then holds my face between her hands, forcing me to look her in the eyes. Her skin’s soft but firm against my face, and her caramel scent slows my heart rate.
Then the wave of her emotions washes into me, her confidence, care, and love flowing into me from our bond. I don’t deserve it and I don’t deserve her. “Stop that. You’re spiraling in self-deprecating bullshit. Be here, now, with me.”
I zero in on her words, and the rocking sensation I’d been feeling dissipates. She’s right. I’m just exacerbating the situation. My brain wants to spiral more and dive deep into how I make everything worse. But I have this amazingly blunt woman in front of me, holding onto me so I don’t get too immersed. I have to meet her halfway. I align my breathing with hers and gently place my hands on her hips.
My fangs lengthen, and my eyes sharpen. “Shit. Are they red?” My words slur.
She nods. “It’s okay. Take some from me.” She steps into me and pulls the collar of her shirt aside.
My eyes fix on the blue vein running down her neck, pulsing with every beat of her heart. I want to say no. I want to be stronger and more in control.
But I’m not. A shaky breath escapes me. I’m weak. Can’t keep it together.
I strike, biting deeply, and her moan vibrates against my lips. She wraps her arms around my back. My hands lower, gripping her ass, squeezing and lifting her feet off the ground. I take gulping drinks and let her sweet, thick blood extinguish the fire burning in my veins. It washes through me from head to toe, a calming balm to my soul, and I grow hard. I pull her closer, pressing her up against every inch of me.
Feeling more sated and in control, I release my bite and lick her wound closed. My fangs retract easily as I ease her to the ground. Just having her in my arms settles my senses and calms the rest of my mind. I capture her mouth in a searing kiss, not able to part from her just yet. She must sense my need to stay connected. Breaking our kiss, she encircles around me in a swaddling hug. It seems like such a simple gesture, but when you’ve gone so long hating yourself and not letting anyone in, the simplest action can be a lifesaving raft. And she’s mine.
“You’ve got this. Remember how many lives you’re saving here. You’re changing these people’s lives every minute you’re here. If you need to step away to refuel or collect yourself, then do it. But come back stronger and ready, because they need you. Just like I do.”
Emotions clog my throat, but I don’t need to speak them. She can feel it all through our bond.
She’s right. I need to step up for everyone in this ER. And for her. And myself. Maybe then I’ll feel like I deserve her.
I’m lost in my thoughts while bussing dirty tables at the café after a busy lunch rush. It’s only been a couple of days, but the changes in Wyatt are subtle and substantial. He’s started opening up and voicing his fears. I can feel through our bond how challenging it is for him, but he’s still trying. He’s telling me more about his nightmares—not right away because he can’t talk or even respond right when he wakes up.
They’re usually of the night she died, but he wakes up in different parts. And sometimes it’s what-if scenarios, like her prom or wedding, that he lives as if they were real. He enjoys a lovely dream until his dream-self remembers they could never be real, and it all turns dark and bloody, waking him. There are some deep wounds within him that need to be addressed and healed. Not that I’m one to talk about unpacking trauma. But I think it’s helping him to at least share them with someone else.
I carry a pile of dirty dishes to the sink in the back and grab napkin refills before returning to the front.
Wyatt puts everyone else before himself and thinks he never measures up, but I’m challenging him on that. And I’m pleasantly surprised that he’s listening and being so vulnerable with me. Maybe I need to take a page out of the same book and be more open with him. It’s kind of funny how we grew up in very different ways and yet both still struggle with trusting and letting others in. We really were destined for each other.
I replenish the napkin dispensers then move from table to table, collecting trash and wiping down the tabletops when the contrast of thick black writing on a crisp white napkin catches my attention.
I see you! I found you!
My eyes go wide as I drop the napkin back to the table. I scan the whole café but don’t see Patrick. I rush, stumbling over stools, to the front window but don’t see him outside either.
Who was sitting here? Surely, I would’ve noticed if it was him, right? It couldn’t be. I would’ve known. But it was the busy lunch hour. It could’ve been anyone. Or it could be someone else’s note.
I’m making something out of nothing.
Shaking my head, I grab the napkin and crumple it in a tight fist. I collect the other trash and toss it all in the bin then get cleaning to distract myself and calm my heart rate.
The afternoon rush is even worse than the lunch crowd, which is rare, but it happens. I’m not working the late evening shift, so once this rush leaves, I’m out of here.
The crowd’s already thinning out. I wipe the syrup spills and espresso stains from the counters and restock lower items. My manager’s leaning over the front counter when I turn back to the blenders. “Isabella, take the trash out back. Then you’re good for the day.”
Thank fucking goodness, I hate cleaning the sticky blenders.
“You got it. Thanks, Tony.”
I untie my apron and head to the back with a full bag of trash, glad to be done with the day. I grab my jacket off the employee hook, replace it with my apron, then reach into the pocket for my phone to call Wyatt. There’s a folded napkin wrapped around my phone. My chest tightens while I unwrap the napkin with trembling fingers. I stop breathing at the thick, dark lettering.
I’m coming for you.
Air punches out of my lungs. He was here. Right by me, and I didn’t even notice. I back away from the coat rack, like it’ll attack me, and stop in the room’s corner. I can’t stay here, but I’m too scared to move. Tremors wrack my body, the note smashed within my hand.
My phone vibrates. I jump and yelp, dropping the note, bag of trash, and my phone to the ground. With a sense of trepidation, I slowly bend to retrieve them, listening to the eerie silence of the back room. Wyatt’s name displays, but it’s not as calming as it usually is. This is getting real. He’s found me. And I’m not ready for this. Not again, and not with Wyatt.
“Oh, good, you haven’t left yet.” Tony’s voice spooks the shit out of me.
I gasp, dropping the trash bag again, and press back into the wall.
“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I was just hoping you could take this one out, too.” He holds up a smaller bag of trash.
I grab it with a trembling hand.
“You okay?” His concern is evident, but he glances back when the front door chimes.
“Ah, yeah, you just startled me.” I lift the trash up. “I got it, no problem.” I give the fakest smile I’ve ever given.
He doesn’t even notice, already heading back out to the front. “Thanks. Have a good night.”
I heave a heavy sigh, shoving the note and phone in my pocket. My spine stiffens as I grab the bag I’d dropped, but I square my shoulders and head towards the back of the building.
How could I have missed him? Could he be working with someone again?
I jog down the steps towards the large metal dumpster and swing the bags in.
A blurring movement reflecting the light from the streetlamp above has me turning to my left. I’m struck with the force of a truck. Thrown back, my body dents the metal structure.
I cough and blink to clear my vision when fingers grab my throat, effortlessly lifting my feet off the ground.
Patrick’s face comes into focus as I struggle to get air through his crushing grip. He leans into my ear to whisper, “Told you I was coming for you. Did you like my notes?”
I make choking noises, and his grip loosens for a fraction of a second to let me breathe, then constricts again.
“You haven’t been home for a few days. Where are you living now?” His eyes glow in the darkened alley.
A siren blaring down the adjacent street momentarily distracts him, and he turns to look that way. I kick out with all my might, my foot connecting with his groin. He grunts, releasing my throat, and I drop to the ground.
“You filthy little bitch!”
I roll away and jump to standing, but he’s quicker. Striking out, he lands a blow to my ribs. They crack, and a sudden jolt pierces my side.
I scream, folding over myself and holding my side, the pain pulsing in waves.
Two people exit the shop a few stores down and notice the commotion. “Hey! Leave her alone.” They walk over, and Patrick flashes away in the opposite direction. They both stop, puzzled, and look around the back alley, but he’s too quick, and they didn’t see how or where he went. To a human eye, he probably just vanished.
They walk over to me, but I’m already shuffling back towards the café, scanning my surroundings with a hand pressed to my ribs.
“Are you alright?” one of the guys asks while stepping closer.
“Ah, yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for your help.” I push in through the back door before they can say anything else.
My phone continues to buzz in my pocket, and once I’m safely back in the employee’s back room, I pull it out and answer.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“What’s wrong?” Wyatt’s voice is stern.
“I… Uh…” I clear my throat. It’s burning. “Patrick was here. He attacked me when I took out the trash.” My voice cracks. “Wyatt, I’m scared.”
“I’m already on my way. Can you stay on the phone with me until I get there?”
“Yeah.” My eyes gloss over with tears threatening to fall.
“Is anyone with you?” His tone switches to worry.
“No. I’m in the back and too afraid to move.” I’m almost hyperventilating on the phone.
“Hey. Breathe. It’s going to be okay. Go back to the front. You’re safer around more people, and I’m less than five minutes out.”
I wrap my free arm around my chest, fighting off the chills cooling my body. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Tell me when you’re back up front.”
I stay pressed to the wall all the way to the front of the store and find a seat in the middle so I can clearly see the front and back doors from my spot. “I’m back up front.”
“It’ll be okay. We figured this might happen, and we’ll handle it together.”
I nod in agreement, not that he can see me. “Yeah, part of me just kind of hoped he wouldn’t still hunt me down. With whatever he went through, maybe he changed enough to move on. But that was stupid. I was stupid. He still wants to make me pay.”
I jump as the doors ding, but my shoulders relax when Wyatt walks in. He ends our call and comes right to me, pulling me to my feet and hugging me tightly.
“It wasn’t a stupid thought, and it wasn’t your fault. He’s just deranged and incapable of change.”
I nod and hand him the crumpled note. He unfolds the napkin and reads it.
“There was one earlier in the day, too. I trashed it and convinced myself it wasn’t for me. But this one was in my coat pocket. And then he jumped me outside just a few minutes ago. He only ran off because people came out of another shop.”
He pulls the collar of my coat down, exposing the bruising on my neck. His nostrils flare. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“I think he cracked some ribs.” My voice is rough through my battered throat.
He nods, clenching the note in a fist, turning with me still wrapped in his arms, and tosses it into the nearest trash bin.
He squeezes my shoulder. “Let’s go home and form a plan.”
I nod and let him guide me out the front door nestled to his side. His warm embrace eases some of my tension, but not all.
Patrick wants me, and I’ve lived through that countless times. It might hurt, but he hasn’t killed me yet because that would end my torment.
But Wyatt? Now I have to worry about him and how he fits into this whole mess. Patrick won’t have any reservations about taking him out. If he finds out we’re mates, he might even be more inclined to kill him because it will cause me the same pain he’s gone through. I can’t lose Wyatt, and I will never turn out like Patrick.
The fire in front of me is more warming than the blanket I’m cocooned in. But my chills aren’t from the cold.
“So, I was thinking…” Wyatt sits cross-legged next to me in front of the fire and hands me a steaming cup of tea, the minty aroma wafting up. “That we plan a sort of trap. We should do it at your place since there’re fewer tenants there and—”
“I don’t want you there.”
He recoils, hit by my words. “Of course I’m going to be there. That’s the whole advantage. This time, it isn’t just you.”
“He’s probably already seen me with you. If he finds out you’re my mate, he’ll do everything in his power to take you away from me. I can live with his torture. I’ve done it my whole life. What I can’t live with is losing you.” My fingers clench around the mug’s handle.
He turns to face me more fully. “I get that, but I can’t live without you, either. We’re in this together now. And there’s no way I could stay away while feeling your pain. I’ve already proven that.”
“But—”
“No buts. I didn’t follow my gut and let you push me away last time. I can’t stay behind. I’m not budging on this. Now let’s come up with a plan to take him out so we don’t have to worry about this ever again.”
“Do you really think we can take him out? He was fast and stronger than ever before. And I didn’t even hear him coming.” My voice trembles.
He nods. “Whatever advantage he might have, we have each other, and that’s an advantage as well.”
“Yeah…” I bite my cheek and drop my gaze to the embers.
“Do you think he’ll be alone? Tilly said another escaped with him. Could they be working together?” He sips his tea.
“No, I think he’s too cocky, and he’s stronger now. He’ll think he can do it on his own. He only recruited help last time because it got to the point where he couldn’t hold me down on his own.”
His molars grind together, and he takes a moment before he can speak.
“You’ve been working on your glamouring. Could you use that against him?”
“No, glamour doesn’t work on other Vanamisch, only on humans.”
He puffs out a sigh and sets his tea down, gesturing with his hands. “What about isolating your senses to strengthen them, like Tilly suggested?”
“I haven’t practiced that much, but I think I need to after tonight. I didn’t hear or smell him until it was too late.” A tear slides free and rolls down my cheek.
He wipes it clear with his thumb. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”
“But how are we going to trap him if he has all the advantages?” I bite my bottom lip.
“Well, he doesn’t have the advantage of a mate. I think we use you as bait. He’s after you, ultimately. Let him follow you to your place and go about your business like normal. Once he breaks in, you can push the feelings through our bond, and I’ll come from close by. You can cause some damage in the meantime. And I’ll be a surprise attack. We can tackle and restrain him, and then it all ends once and for all.”
I nod then take another sip of tea. Between the fire’s warmth, the soothing tea, the plan, and his unyielding support my body stops trembling. Maybe we really can do this. I’ve never been able to on my own. But for us? With him? We have a chance.
“Do you have weapons and things to restrain him? You’ve seen my place. I only have the basics.”
“Yeah, I’ll go dig out my hunting and fishing trunk from the storage space on my balcony. It’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure it has ropes, knives, a machete… I even think I have a butane torch for grilling.”
“Okay…” I agree because I can tell he won’t let me go without him as backup, but I can’t help feeling like I’m the reason he’s in this whole mess. If it wasn’t for the stupid bus accident, I would’ve probably never met him, and he’d still be living a normal human life. A life without bloodlust, overstimulation, and life-threatening drama. Wow, I’m such a fucking package.
“Hey. Stop it. You call me on my self-blame crap, so now it’s my turn to call you on yours. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I know what you’re feeling, and it’s not your fault. None of this is. We’re going to get you freedom from this mess, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you just how worthy of love you are.”
He pulls me in for a kiss, and I just manage to set my mug of tea down before his mouth captures mine. His tongue sneaks in, stealing my breath and all my fight. One instant I’m drowning in self-loathing, the next he’s turning my legs to jelly and drowning me in his love through our bond. The distraction works, and even if only for a moment, I allow myself to be swept away.