Vanessa took too much. I knew it the moment I felt the sharpness of her teeth, the pull that went deeper than necessary. She didn’t stop when she should have, her hunger overpowering her restraint. I let her—because I needed her quiet, needed her to remain an ally for just a little longer. But now, the decision feels like a mistake. The ache I feel is a reminder of my miscalculation, the gnawing emptiness she left behind more profound than I’d anticipated.
I rake my hands through my hair, the tightness in my body refusing to ease. Sleep won’t come, not like this—not when the craving is this strong, and the thought of Lailah looms over everything else. Her scent is still faint in the air, teasing me, reminding me of the connection I crave but can’t have. Not yet. Not when everything is so precariously close to falling apart.
Callum’s voice cuts through the silence, breaking my spiraling thoughts.
“She took too much from you.”
I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He’s leaning against the post near the tent flap, arms crossed. He doesn’t wait for me to respond before continuing.
“You won’t make it through the night, let alone tomorrow, if you keep ignoring what you need.”
“I’ll manage,” I say through gritted teeth, though the strain in my voice betrays me. I don’t want to admit that he’s right, that the ache is spreading, making me weaker by the hour.
Callum smirks, pushing off the post and taking a step closer.
“Feed, or this entire plan falls apart before it even begins.”
My fists clench at my sides, frustration boiling just beneath the surface, but before I can respond, Malachi steps in, his calm presence diffusing the chaos before it can break loose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to. The look he gives me is enough—a silent reminder that my pride is a liability we can’t afford right now.
I sigh, running a hand down my face. They’re both right, as much as I hate to admit it. I need to feed. Vanessa took too much, leaving me teetering on the edge of control. But the thought of leaving Lailah alone just to satisfy my own hunger—I won’t allow it.
Callum shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before stepping toward the exit. He slips out of the tent, the flap snapping shut behind him. Malachi lingers for a breath longer, his steady gaze meeting mine. He doesn’t say anything, but his expression speaks volumes.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, my voice low but steady. “I just need to rest. I’ll feed when we get to the territory—when I know she’s safe.”
Malachi doesn’t move, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s gauging whether or not to believe me. But then, he gives a curt nod. He turns and steps toward the exit, pausing just long enough to cast one last look over his shoulder. It’s not a glance of trust—it’s a reminder, a warning.
And then he’s gone, leaving the tent in silence once more.
The emptiness of the tent wraps around me like a vise. My legs feel like lead as I move toward the bedroll, exhaustion clawing at every fiber of my body. I sink down onto the edge of the makeshift bed, leaning heavily against the wooden post beside it for support. My head feels light, the world seeming to tilt slightly as the hunger gnaws at me with an intensity I can’t ignore.
I grip the edge of the bedroll, my knuckles white as I force myself to steady. My breaths come faster, shallow and uneven, the weight of my hunger threatening to pull me under. But then it hits me—a faint, familiar scent curling through the air, subtle but unmistakable.
Lailah.
The scent of her skin, warm and impossibly sweet, reaches me like a lifeline and a curse all at once. The ache in my fangs intensifies, fiercer now, almost unbearable. It’s maddening—she’s not even here, not really. She’s somewhere close, asleep, blissfully unaware of the havoc her presence is wreaking inside me.
I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the post as the hunger claws deeper, more insistent. The image of her floods mymind—her blue eyes challenging me, her lips parting as if ready to speak some cutting retort. The thought alone sends a rush of heat through me, mingling with my gnawing need.
I growl low in my throat, the sound rumbling through the quiet like a warning to myself. I can’t lose control. Not here, not now. Not with everything at stake. I press my palms into my thighs, forcing myself to breathe, to focus, to remember why I have to hold it together.
But the scent lingers, teasing me, taunting me, wrapping around me like a siren’s song. My fangs ache so badly I can barely think, my body screaming for what I can’t allow myself to take.
“Just a little longer,”I murmur to the empty tent, my voice hoarse and strained.
My vision blurs as I finally let my body sink onto the bedroll, my head falling back against the thin pillow. The exhaustion pulls at me, threatening to drag me under.
As my eyes flutter shut, the scent of her still lingers, filling my senses, haunting me. She’s my torment and my anchor, the one thing that keeps me grounded even as it threatens to unravel me completely.
And as sleep finally starts to claim me, all I can think about is her.
35
LAILAH
As the first light of dawn breaks over the horizon, I notice Jason emerging from Casper’s tent. He walks briskly, followed by Callum and Malachi, both of whom stop and glance at me. Their eyes briefly meet mine, and I can see the concern etched across their faces as they move toward their own tent.
Callum lingers just a moment longer, his gaze holding mine with a strange intensity, as though he’s trying to remember something about me. It feels like he’s saying goodbye without saying the words. I frown, unsure of what to make of it, and watch him leave, confused and unsettled.
