Chapter 6
My skin is tight. My muscles hurt. My teeth feel like they are about to fall out. Moving takes more energy than I have. I’m hungry—no—I’m starved.
Stumbling my way into the kitchen, I slam my shoulder against the wall and roar so loud with annoyance, the wind chimes sing outside. Every step sends a burning pain through my body. Sweat clings to my skin. My thirst, my hunger, it’s never been this strong before.
I could drain someone and not feel any remorse for killing them.
Swinging open the fridge, I snag the last bag of blood, rip it open, and suck it down like I’ve spent all day in the hot summer sun.
There’s too much to be done around here.
I have to get more rescue horses in a few hours from a farm that lost everything in a storm.
All the animals at Oklahoma’s Rescue need to be fed.
There are a few horses that are pregnant that we need to check on.
The list goes on and on, and I can’t do any of it if I feel like this.
The cold blood is hard to swallow, but I’m desperate, and I manage.
I moan, clutching the kitchen island like it’s a flotation device in the middle of the ocean.
Pressing my face against the cool granite countertop, the stark cold against my cheek only brings a second of relief. My stomach twists with violent cramps that almost send me to my knees.
I gag, the blood boiling in my gut. Cherry takes over my eyes, shifting from normal to predator with every blink. Groaning as I watch my claws extend from my nailbeds, I dig the tips into the counter, needing something to hold me upright.
Everything sways and blurs around me.
The hot blood claws at my throat, wanting out of my body.
There’s only one experience that can compare, but this is a million times worse. When I was human, and I’d drink so much, I’d be hungover the next day.
Light sensitivity. Food sensitivity. Lethargy. Thirst. Body aches.
A hangover can be cured. The body heals, and humans repeat the action, sometimes even killing themselves in the process.
This? It’s as if razors are inside my body, cutting me from the inside out.
Clutching my stomach, the blood spews from my mouth, covering the hardwood floors, my feet, and the kitchen island.
“Woah, holy shit, Oakley. What happened?” Westin rushes into the kitchen. “I heard you from one hundred and fifty acres away. What the fuck? Are you okay?” He steps forward, nearly stepping into the blood that’s surrounding me, and I stop him.
“Don’t,” I grunt, spitting the excess from my mouth onto the floor. “Don’t move. Can you get my phone, please?”
He seems surprised and tosses his hat on the dinner table. “Your phone, really? You aren’t well, Oakley. You need help.”
“And the person I need to speak with will help me,” I yell, slamming my fist on the counter so hard I break the corner off. I squeeze my eyes shut when a high-pitched ringing in my ears squeezes my brain until I can no longer string a thought together.
My eyes roll back, and my body fails.
“Oakley!” Westin is fast, an obscure shadow of himself. He slides into the blood, catching me before I can hit the ground. “What the fuck, man? Talk to me. What’s going on?”
The front door slams shut, and Jazz appears in the kitchen next. “Oakley! Westin! What the fuck, happened? Holy shit, there’s blood everywhere.”
“He’s sick,” Westin explains. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Go get his phone. He said he knows who to call to ask.”
Jazz kneels in front of me. “Where’s your phone, Oakley?”
“By my bed,” I croak, my heart racing. “This has to pass, right? It has to.”
“I’ve never seen a vampire throw up blood before, Oklahoma. I don’t know if this is the kind of thing that passes.” Westin helps me to my feet, the two of us covered in blood.
“I think it’s best if we stay in the kitchen. We don’t want to drag the blood through the house.”
I nod, clutching onto my best friend. “Good idea.” Another wave of nausea hits, another cramp searing through my stomach, and I’m doubled over again, spewing the last of the crimson liquid out of my body.
“Fuck, Oakley. Are you dying?”
I glance up at Westin, and for the first time in about a decade of knowing him, his eyes become glassy. His worry and fear hit me like a truck, knocking the breath out of me.
“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry. I’ll try to control my emotions.” His hand tightens on my waist and helps me to one of the dining room chairs.
“It’s okay. Don’t even worry about that. I appreciate how worried you are about me.”
He is slow and steady, easing me into the chair. The sun coming through the blinds hurts, and I lift my bloodied hand to block the rays, but Westin is on it, using his paranormal speed to close them.
“Thank you,” I sigh in relief.
“Here.” Jazz appears in the seat next to me, holding out my phone. “Call who you need to. We aren’t leaving your side. I’ll go grab some towels to clean you guys up and to go shower the blood off you.”
“No one is helping me fucking shower,” I seethe. “I can do that on my own.”
My friends fall quiet as I scroll through my phone for Kentucky’s name.
“If you need help to shower, we will help. You know we don’t care. We’re worried, Oakley. This isn’t normal.”
“I know,” I rasp, putting the call on speaker because holding the device adds an ache to my joints that I can’t handle right now.
“I’ll get started on the cleanup,” Jazz says, pushing his chair back.
“No. It’s okay. I can do it. I need some time, but you guys don’t have to do that. I’ll get to it.”
“Oakley?”
“Jazz?”
“Shut the fuck up.” And just like that, the place where Jazz was sitting is empty as he goes to get cleaning supplies.
“Seriously,” Westin echoes.
“Oklahoma!” Kentucky picks up on the fifth ring. “How are you doing? I’m glad you called. I wanted to ask how the rescue is doing? Do we need to have a meeting anytime soon?”
“Kentucky—” his name is a broken struggle as I try to speak. “I need help. I need answers to what is going on with me.”
Kentucky’s voice darkens to a low baritone. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I’m throwing up blood. My body fucking aches. Speaking hurts my ears. I figured you might know what’s going on since you’ve been a vampire longer than me.”
“Oh. Oh. Oh. Kentucky. Pick me. I know. Pick me.” A familiar voice in the background sounds a little too excited.
“Lorcan, he isn’t asking you.”
“Yeah, but I like answering questions. Plus, I can get to him right now. I’m on my way!” Lorcan shouts.
“No!” Kentucky and I say in unison, but it’s too late.
Lorcan, our friendly neighbor Void, who reaps souls, is in front of me, his skeletal figure cloaked by a ragged black cloak.
“Oh, wow, Kentucky. It’s a murder scene in this kitchen. Blood is difficult to clean too,” he tsks, shaking a boney finger.
“I’m so sorry, Oakley. He just does that.” Kentucky sounds just as exasperated as I feel.
“It’s fine. I’ll leave you on speaker so you can hear everything.”
Lorcan takes Jazz’s chair and crosses his legs. “I’m surprised the vampire who turned you didn’t warn you about this.”
“About what?” Westin sneers. “I don’t even know what’s going on with him.”
“Because you were bitten. Bitten vampires don’t know everything like you all think you do. You have to learn as you go. This happened to Kentucky too, but not so soon. Interesting.”
I don’t feel anything from Lorcan. There’s no emotion at all. It’s like a never-ending abyss.
It’s a welcome relief.
“Alaska could only give me so much information before he had to leave,” I explain. “What is going on with me?”
“You met your fated mate, didn’t you?” Lorcan and Kentucky ask at the same time.
My brows pinch together, wondering how they could possibly know that.
“You won’t be able to drink anyone else’s blood now. You’ll reject it, which is what is happening here. It made you sick.”
“Wait a minute. Wait.” Westin stops the conversation with a wave of his hand. “You mean when one of us meets our mates, this will happen? What if our mate isn’t interested? We’re doomed to die?”
“Pretty much,” Lorcan says, leaning back in the chair. “But that never happens.”
“How do you break it? How do I break the bond?” I ask through clenched teeth, my entire body revolting at the words.
Lorcan laughs, a full belly laugh that is so loud. The vibrations rake across my skull.
Without thinking, I slam my fist across his jaw. His head spins in a circle, and he has to resituate it, then pop his neck to get it into place again.
“Okay, I deserved that. I shouldn’t have laughed, but it’s a ridiculous question.
You can’t break the mate bond, Oklahoma.
Is that your real name, by the way? Sorry, anyway”—he leans forward, his empty eyes glowing orange—“you could break the bond. If you choose not to mate with who Fate has chosen for you, you and her, or him, they will die.”
I sit up so fast, my head spins. “Nariko could die? Because of me?”
Lorcan nods, sucking his tongue across his teeth and taps his boney fingers on the table. “Sucks, right?”
“Yeah, Lorcan. It does fucking suck. She doesn’t deserve this. Is she okay? Is she feeling it like I am?
“No. She’s human, right?”
I give a curt nod, not wanting him to know too much about her. All of her details are mine. They belong to me even if I know I don’t deserve them.
“She’s feeling your rejection. It’s slower for her, like an ache that won’t go away, but it will get stronger. Eventually, the mating heat will happen, and without you, that alone would kill her. She will become delirious. Why don’t you want to be with her?”
I stare at the blood on my hands. “Of course I want to be with her, but she’s a storm chaser.”
“Ah, right. The damaged heart you must have after your brother dying in that tornado. I’m sure that was hard. Scary that Fate would give you a mate that does the same job you despise.”
My eyes water from his words. “There’s no fucking way you could know that.”
“I’m the Void who reaped his soul. I know all about it.”
I’m out of my chair with my hands around his fucking neck, seconds away from breaking every bone in his body.