Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
AIDAN
There’s a knock on my door early Monday evening. Brenda knows I’ve cancelled her appointments, so I assume it’s a deliveryman or solicitor of some sort.
I try to yell, “Fuck off!”, but my throat and mouth are so dry it comes out as a scratchy whisper instead.
I’ve been stranded on the sofa for the past two days with a now melted homemade ice pack pressed to my burning forehead and tissues crammed up my nose, holding in the blood that won’t stop leaking from it.
My entire body hurts, and I’m cold, like I was shoved into an ice bath against my will.
Every muscle spasms and aches so deep I can’t do anything to stop it.
My bones feel fragile, and there’s a pounding in my head that hasn’t stopped since I got back from the festival.
My only sense of time is the digital clock tucked into the bookshelf across from me that displays the date.
At this point, I can barely lift myself from the position on the sofa, and I’m starting to lose sensation in my extremities. Earlier today, I watched a spider crawling on my arm, and I hadn’t even felt it.
The knocking persists, but there’s no way I can make it to the door. Whoever it is will just have to get the message.
Just when I think my visitor has given up, the front door creaks open. I hear urgent footsteps pad across the tile in the foyer.
Did I forget to lock the door?
I try to open my eyes, but my lids are too heavy, and there’s no point now that the intruder has entered my home. Let them take whatever they want. I’m probably going to die here, alone on this couch.
“Aidan?”
For a moment, I think I’ve imagined her. The blood loss is so severe I must be hallucinating.
Joanna’s voice is just a whisper, but it’s laced with so much concern my heart tugs for her. I feel her body sink into the cushions beside me. Her hand presses to my forehead, solid and warm as she checks for a fever.
“What happened?” she asks timidly. “Are you sick?”
She’s not sure what to do, and I’m not sure what to tell her. Now that I know she’s really here, I hate that she’s seeing me like this.
My voice comes out gravelly and broken from disuse. “You could say that.”
She lets out a frustrated sigh and takes in the state of me. I’m wearing the same clothes from this weekend, wrinkled and sweat-stained, I haven’t showered, and my skin is sallow. There’s blood in random places on the couch and on my shirt.
“Aidan.” She pleads my name like she’s desperate. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
The corner of my mouth just barely lifts into a smirk. “Ready to talk now, are you?”
She doesn’t hit me with a sarcastic remark. She just looks…heartbroken.
“Is this because of me?” she asks.
I want to lie, but I can’t hide the truth from my face. There’s no point holding back any longer. Joanna and I must face this head on—now.
“I need your blood,” I tell her, closing my eyes again. I try to hold back the emotion in my voice, but a quiver escapes. “But I would rather die than force you into something you don’t want.”
Joanna’s eyes fill with tears. I’ve never seen her cry.
“No,” she says sternly, her voice breaking. “You’re not going to die.”
She gets up, and the loss of her warm presence next to me feels like the pain of a thousand cuts, much worse than the pain I’ve already experienced.
But then she rushes back with something in her hand.
I’m struck by a sudden metallic sweetness in the air, and my heart starts pumping slightly faster.
Before I open my eyes, I taste her delectable strawberry syrup on my lips.
My tongue darts out to sweep the divine liquid into my mouth, and suddenly my eyes go wide.
Joanna has cut a line across the palm of her hand, and she’s holding it just above my mouth…for me to drink.
I don’t think, I lunge.
My mouth suctions to her hand as I drink so desperately I feel dizzy, but it’s working.
I feel myself awakening from within. Her presence near me heightens my senses, and as her blood fills my empty shell of a body, the world around me brightens.
My lungs clear, my throat is soothed, and the ache in my muscles dissipates.
The mark she’s made in her skin opens wider as I continue to bite and suck. I’m afraid I’ll take too much, but there’s a light in her eyes as I drink from her that tells me she’s fine. She wants to do this—she wants to help me.
This is how it’s supposed to be, how it should have been all this time.
Joanna’s blood was made for me.
I grab her wrist to pull her closer, and she lets out a soft moan. I notice her hair is pulled back into a disheveled ponytail, flyaways scattered in every direction. She too looks a bit off, like she hasn’t been sleeping well. There are dark circles under her eyes and her skin is blotchy.
Once I’ve had my fill, I detached myself from her hand, kissing the mark gently, and lick my lips generously. She pulls it to her chest, just in front of her heart, and makes a fist to stop the blood.
My own hand shakes as I reach to brush the hair away from her beautiful face. She smiles. “Just my luck, huh?” she teases.
My brow furrows. “What?”
“That I would choose to have a fling with my fated vampire mate.”
My thumb presses into the hollow of her cheek, forcing her mouth to open. “Technically, I never agreed to those terms.”
I bring her mouth to mine and kiss her deeply, cutting off the sarcasm I’m sure was about to fall off her lips.
My tongue sweeps across hers and I taste that same strawberry sweetness that resides in her blood.
Every part of her is perfect: her taste, her smell, the feel of her.
She has bound me, body and soul, and I would happily die tied up.
But Joanna clings to me, pulling me to the side of the living with every breath, every touch of her lips against mine.
She is my light.
I see it in the way her skin glows, her expression brightens, and the very core of her soul sings to me.
She falls on top of me on the couch, and I grunt from the impact, still a bit weak.
“I’m sorry!” she cries. “It’s too much. You need to recover.” She inhales. “And shower.”
I squeeze her tighter and shift so she can lie beside me in the narrow space. “The only thing I need is you.”
We stay that way for hours, dosing in and out of sleep as we cling to one another, both afraid we’ll wake up and find the other gone. But that doesn’t happen. Our strings are strong.
At one o’clock in the morning, I open my eyes to find Jo looking back at me. I press my nose to her temple and inhale the sweet scent of her. She’s still here. And she’s real.
“How long have you been awake?” I ask as my hand absentmindedly massages her shoulder.
Her lips part, eyes glossy and bright. “Not long,” she admits. “I’ve just been thinking.”
I touch the side of her face gently. “Talk to me, Jo.”
She closes her eyes and ducks her chin, but I force her back up. “What is it? You can tell me.”
She swallows hard. As she speaks, I feel her warm breath fluttering across my jaw. “I’ve never done this before.”
“I know,” I tell her.
“I’m not always going to do the right thing.”
“I know.”
She sniffs and wipes a tear away with the back of her sleeve. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice cracking with defeat. “I was scared. You were right, I couldn’t talk about my feelings because they were too much. But they’re real. I felt them just like you.”
I close my eyes in relief. It’s all I wanted. I just needed her to say it.
“I’m still scared,” she admits. “I don’t understand what any of this means, but as long as you’re with me, I think I’ll be okay.
You’ve been here all this time, even when I didn’t ask you to be.
” She drops her forehead to mine. “I trust you Aidan. I trusted you with my body, so I should have known I could trust you with my heart too.”
I pull her against me and press her close.
She buries her face in my chest, then relaxes, resting her cheek just above my heart. “What if I retreat back into myself?” she asks fearfully. “I don’t want you to get mad at me.”
I press my lips to her temple as I mouth the words. “I won’t.”
She looks up, her deep brown eyes gazing desperately into mine. “You promise?”
I nod. “I swear it.”