Chapter Ten #3
Her fear slides down my throat like a burning shot of vodka, warming my stomach, invigorating my veins. I’ve never felt such power.
“Where is everyone!” She falls to her knees, the aroma of her blood stinging my nose.
My enhanced vision focuses on where she fell, the glass digging into her skin.
She’s harmed herself.
I don’t like that.
Even though her sadness tastes better than a pig being roasted for long hours, dripping in juices and tender, the meat falling off the bone—the thought alone makes my mouth water.
Yet.
I find that I do not wish for her to be sad. I don’t like it. It’s an odd realization. I hate that my need for her fear requires her to be in pain. What kind of mate does that make me?
And why do I still hide behind a truck, soaking in her sadness as if I am the desert waiting for a wild rain?
“Lula-lala-la-la-laaa.” The nightmare sings for her, her name echoing in the emptiness of this abandoned city.
She jerks her head up, hissing from the pain in her knees as she stands. “What are you? What do you want!” She yells until her voice breaks, stumbling out of the open window, the glass crunching under her shoes. “What do you want from me!”
Bending down, she picks up a shard of glass, her gaze darting left and right to see where I am.
She runs, sprinting down the road, zigzagging between cars while yelling, “Please, call out to me! Is someone there? Anyone?”
I follow her, keeping a safe distance, allowing her to feel my presence without seeing me.
This nightmare could end now. I’m full. Her fear has sated me, but I’m addicted. I want to soak all of it up until there’s nothing left for me to eat.
I bump against a car hard enough for the alarm to go off, the loud siren causing Lula to jump, weaponizing the shard of glass in her hand by holding it in front of her.
“Who is there! Stop being such a fucking coward and come get me!” she roars, her bravery masking the scent of the terror I love so much.
I would come out, but that would end all the fun.
And there’s a quiet part of me that I’m wrestling with that is whispering that it isn’t fun anymore because she is our mate. We shouldn’t want her to be afraid.
“I’m alone,” she begins to sob. “I hate being alone.”
My eyes widen in realization that her worst fear is dying alone. I’m torturing her for my own enjoyment.
The fear in her eyes shifts, and so does the smell. Her eyes have turned from angry, readying herself to fight, to withdrawn, and from here, I can hear her heartbeat slow.
“What are you thinking?” I mutter to myself, unable to take my eyes off her.
“I hate being alone,” she repeats, falling to her knees once again.
She readjusts the long shard of glass in her hand that reminds me of an icicle during a frigid storm. Without hesitation, without any doubt, she angles the point of the piece of glass onto her wrist.
I hold my breath, wondering if she is baiting me.
“I can’t live in a world where I am the only one,” she says, another tear escaping. “I’d rather die than be alone.”
She digs the glass into her skin, slicing into her beautiful, tanned skin. Blood pours from her forearm, the ground unable to drink it like I wish to. Lula moves the makeshift blade to the other hand, smearing blood on the glass, and repeats the same cut from her wrist to her elbow.
My blood that I had her consume won’t heal her in her dreams. If she dies in her dream, there’s no coming back from that. Not even fate could save her.
Placing the glass against her neck, she begins to slice, and it’s too much for me. This is no longer fun. I can’t watch the only person in the world I care about die.
I’m at her side in my next breath, catching her in my arms as she begins to fall. Pools of blood grow onto the pavement, red rivers forming in the cracks of the road.
“You,” she wheezes, lifting her hand to slap me.
But to my surprise, her palm rests on my cheek, cupping my jaw.
“I won’t die alone.” She closes her eyes, her cries pulling at the soul inside me that I thought was long dead. “Thank you.”
“You can’t die, Little Dream.” I raise her arm, brows furrowing at the amount of blood leaving her.
Licking the wound, I moan, her blood gushing into my mouth.
“This is nothing but a bad dream, Lula. The nightmare inside me couldn’t help it.
Your fear is unlike anything I have ever experienced.
” I lick her other arm, trying to stop the bleeding with my healing capabilities, but it isn’t working on her.
“We have to go back to reality. It’s the only way to save you. ”
“Why? Aren’t you here to kill me?”
I shake my head, pulling her closer to my chest, a protective stance as her body becomes weaker.
“No, Little Dream. Killing you would kill me. In the depths of my despair, in the cave of the hell that created me, the only spark of good is you.”
She only has a few minutes left before we are stuck in her worst fear. I don’t know what would become of me, but if I didn’t die like I feel like I would, I would wander aimlessly through her nightmare to live alone as punishment.
“Why?” A tear rolls slowly down the apples of her high cheeks.
“Because my soul says so and fate deemed you to be mine.”
“Are you mine as well?”
“Every damned part of me,” I whisper, brushing her hair from her face. “And I am damned, Lulaaa,” I sigh her name. “Beyond your wildest dreams.”
I bend down, the endless pits of my eyes stare into hers, learning more about myself in this moment than I thought I ever would.
I love her.
With every ounce of DNA that makes me.
I press my lips against hers, uncaring if it’s the time or not. I need to feel the connection between us. It’s time for me to stop lurking in the shadows. I’ll always follow her. I’ll always protect her. I’ll always kill for her.
I’ll always.