Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Consciousness returns in pieces.
First, there’s the weight of my body.
My limbs are impossibly heavy and even breathing feels like it takes more effort than it should. My fingers twitch against something soft.
Sheets.
I drag them weakly over the fabric, grounding myself in sensation as awareness slowly creeps back in. There’s warmth against one of my hands; a faint pressure around my fingers.
Then sound begins to register.
The quiet hum of air conditioning, a soft rustle nearby. Someone breathing?
My eyelids flutter open, and for several seconds, all I can make out is a blur of pale shapes above me. I blink slowly, waiting for my vision to sharpen until an unfamiliar ceiling finally comes into focus. Fancy crown molding, ornate brass chandelier… definitely not my bedroom.
“Bex!”
A familiar voice cuts through the fog, and the warm pressure around my hand suddenly tightens.
I turn my head toward it and find Taylor leaning over me, her chestnut hair spilling forward around her face, brown eyes wide with concern. The relief that flashes across her features is so intense that it scares me more than waking up in a strange room does.
“Wh…” I try, but the sound comes out as little more than a rasp– my throat’s so raw it feels like I deep throated a cheese grater.
“Shh,” she coos, reaching for something on the nightstand. “Don’t try to talk yet.”
A glass of water appears in her hand, and she slips her other palm behind my head, carefully tilting it up off the pillow.
“Drink.”
The rim touches my lips, and I take a tentative sip.
Holy shit, I don’t think water has ever tasted so good.
I swallow greedily, but Taylor pulls the glass back before I can guzzle the whole thing down.
“Slowly,” she scolds.
I grunt in annoyance, wetting my lips with my tongue.
“I know,” she murmurs as she moves the glass back to my mouth. “Just… take your time, please.”
After another few sips, I push weakly against the mattress, trying to prop myself up on my elbows. My arms tremble beneath my weight, but I manage to scoot higher against the mountain of pillows behind me while Taylor hovers like she’s prepared to physically restrain me if necessary.
“What happened?” I croak, glancing around the room at the antique furniture, heavy drapes, and obnoxiously expensive-looking décor. “Where am I?”
“You’re safe,” she breathes, returning the water glass to the nightstand. “You’re at the mansion.”
I blink at her.
Well, I suppose that explains the chandelier… but it does absolutely nothing to explain why the hell I’m waking up here feeling like I’ve been hit by a fucking truck.
I close my eyes, trying to reach through the fog inside my head. There’s something there, hovering just beyond my grasp. A memory I know I should have but can’t quite capture.
“Elliott brought you,” Taylor says quietly.
My eyes open again, searching her face. Something in her expression has shifted, anger now simmering beneath her relief. Fear, too.
“He lost control, and…” She swallows hard, averting her eyes.
Just like that, the wall comes down. Memories flood back in, hitting me all at once.
Albert. The blood draw. Walking upstairs with a warm blood pouch swinging from my fingers to find Elliott hunched over the analyzer.
Glass in my heel. Pain. Then his arm around me, his fist in my hair, his fangs tearing into my throat…
Pleasure.
So much pleasure I could barely breathe, followed by cold. Fear. Trying and failing to push him away as my pulse slowed.
Elliott…
My heart lurches and I jerk upright, the room instantly pitching sideways.
“Whoa– Bex!”
“Oh, fuck.”
Taylor catches my shoulder as I flop backwards against the pillows, black spots bursting across my vision.
“Shit.” She braces a hand against my chest like she thinks I might try it again, brows pinched together in concern. “Would you stop moving?”
I squeeze my eyes shut until the room stops spinning.
“Where is he?” I whisper, opening my eyes.
Taylor’s mouth tightens as she gives a little shake of her head. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“Tay…”
“He almost fucking killed you, Bex,” she snaps, her voice cracking through the room like a whip.
I stare at her, a little caught off guard by the sheer fury in her tone. Taylor’s usually the calm one; the rational one. I’m the resident pop-off queen.
If she’s this rattled, I must’ve scared the absolute shit out of her.
“As far as I’m concerned,” she continues, drawing in a slow breath through her nose, “that asshole can stay far, far away from you for the rest of his immortal fucking life.”
I barely hear the second half, because another memory has pushed its way to the front of my mind.
The shard of glass. Red streaking across its surface, light blooming…
“But it glowed,” I whisper.
Taylor’s brow furrows. “What?”
I swallow, wincing at the soreness in my throat. “It glowed.”
She just stares at me, brows pinching in confusion.
I reach for the water again, and she hands it over reluctantly. My fingers feel clumsy around the glass, so I grip it with both hands, taking several slow sips before lowering it to my lap.
“I cut my foot,” I explain, my thoughts still sluggish as I try to put the hazy memories in order. “There was a piece of glass on the floor from a vial I broke in the lab. Elliott was pulling it out, and it cut through his glove. His blood got on the glass with mine, and when it mixed together…”
Taylor goes very, very still, barely even breathing.
“It glowed,” I repeat.
“Are you saying…?” She hesitates, like she’s afraid to even put the thought into words. “You and Elliott are bonded?”
A strange pressure builds beneath my ribs. “I think so.”
She blinks at me, then slowly sinks back into her chair. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
Her gaze drifts toward the window as she processes that, her thumb brushing gently over the massive diamond ring on her finger before her attention returns to me. “Are you sure?”
“No.” I drag a hand over my face. “I was a little distracted by him trying to drain me like a juice box immediately afterward.”
Her mouth flattens, the reminder instantly souring whatever awe she might’ve had over the revelation.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
She narrows her eyes. “Not funny yet.”
I fight a smile, lifting one shoulder. “Little funny.”
“Bex.”
A sigh escapes me as my head falls back against the pillows. “I don’t even know if it’s real,” I admit. “We both saw it, though. His blood mixed with mine, and it reacted exactly like yours and James’ did.”
Taylor stares at me, seemingly at a loss for words.
This would normally be the point where Elliott starts rattling off twelve possible explanations– half of which I don’t understand– before disappearing into the lab to test every single one.
That strange pressure returns beneath my ribs, tightening another notch.
Elliott.
I look toward the door before I can stop myself.
If he brought me here, he must’ve somehow pulled himself away. Realized what he’d done, delivered me to safety…
Then what?
Did he stay long enough to know I was okay?
Did he try to come back?
“Wait.” I squint at Taylor. “How long have I been out?”
She winces, like she already knows I’m not going to like the answer. “About a day and a half.”
My jaw drops. “A day and a half?”
“You lost a lot of blood.”
My fingers drift to the side of my neck, brushing the edge of a bandage. “Shit.”
She nods grimly. “They gave you a transfusion.”
“Double shit.”
The water glass tilts as my grip around it falters. Taylor catches it before it spills, taking it from my hands and setting it back on the nightstand while I stare down at the comforter in disbelief.
A day and a half.
Jesus.
No wonder I feel like death microwaved.
My brain’s trying to process everything at once, but it’s too much, my tangled thoughts all jumbling together.
Elliott nearly killed me. Elliott saved me. Our blood reacted. We might be bonded. I’ve apparently been unconscious for thirty-some hours while someone else’s blood was pumped into my veins.
And through all of it, one thought keeps stubbornly circling back.
Where is he?
I hate that I want him here. After what happened, I should probably be relieved he isn’t– Taylor certainly seems to be. But even knowing I almost died at his hands, some stupid part of me wishes it was his face I’d opened my eyes to.
I want to ask him what really happened in that lab.
I want to ask him what the glowing blood means, even though I think we both already know.
Mostly, I just want to see him… which is probably a spectacularly bad survival instinct considering the last time I saw the man, he had his fangs buried in my carotid.
“You said he brought me here?” I ask quietly, flicking Taylor a glance.
She nods solemnly.
“And then he just… left?”
“Well.” She huffs out a breath, shifting her weight in the chair. “When he showed up with you half-dead, I might’ve threatened to drive a stake through his heart.”
My mouth drops open. “You didn’t.”
She arches a brow, her mouth twitching at the corner.
Despite everything, a laugh escapes me. It hurts my throat, but I can’t stop the smile pulling at my lips. “That’s my girl.”
Her fleeting amusement disappears, her expression turning deadly serious again. “I meant it.”
My smile softens. “I know you did.” I reach for her hand, giving it a little squeeze. “And I love you for it.”
She smiles back at me, squeezing my fingers in return, just as something lands softly on the foot of the bed. I glance down to find a familiar black cat prowling across the comforter, tail held high.
“Oz!” I greet, reaching for him.
He answers with a little chirp as he makes his way toward me, stepping delicately over my legs. I offer him my hand as he climbs closer, and Ozzy immediately shoves his head beneath my palm, rubbing insistently against my fingers.
“He’s barely left your side,” Taylor says quietly, her expression turning tender as she watches her cat love up on me.
A soft laugh escapes me as I scratch behind his ears. “Shit, it must’ve been serious if the prince of darkness was worried.”
Ozzy circles twice before settling against my hip, his warm little body pressed into mine.
“Aww.” I stroke a hand down his back. “Such a sweet boy.”
Taylor clears her throat pointedly, and I look up.
“For the record, I haven’t left your side either.”
The corner of my mouth curls in a smirk. “Do you want head scratches, too?”
She swats me with the back of a hand, and I flinch, pain radiating through muscles that apparently have no interest in being touched right now.
Taylor immediately recoils, looking horrified. “Shit, I’m so sorry!”
“You’re fine,” I laugh, fighting a wince as I wave her off before readjusting my position against the pillows. Keeping my eyes open is suddenly becoming difficult– the adrenaline from waking up is already fading, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
Of course, Taylor notices. “You should sleep,” she murmurs.
I roll my eyes. “I’ve been sleeping for a day and a half.”
“And apparently you need more.” She stands and leans over me, carefully fluffing the pillow behind my head and helping me settle back against it.
“I feel like that’s medically impossible,” I grumble, then promptly ruin my argument with a yawn.
Taylor gives me a pointed look.
“Fine,” I huff.
Her expression softens as she reaches down and pulls the blanket higher over me. “We’ll figure everything out when you wake up,” she says.
I nod, letting my eyes fall closed.
Everything.
The bond. The bite. Elliott.
My chest aches at the thought of him. As if she can somehow sense it, Taylor’s fingers curl around mine.
“I’m right here,” she murmurs, her thumb stroking the back of my palm. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I squeeze weakly in response.
Ozzy’s purr vibrates warmly against my side, Taylor’s hand anchoring mine as exhaustion pulls me back under.
This time, I don’t fight it.