Sterling looked like he wanted to say something, but Elise threw her holster on the floor and hurried down the hallway to the bathroom. He looked after her, then turned back to the kitchen, his lips pursed and gaze distraught. “You might be right, Jamie.”
The gangster’s jaw went slack. He pointed to the floors and threw his hands up. “Anyone with eyes can see that, Mr. Walker. My home is a mess because you all have brought your chaos in with you—”
“He meant you’re right about Elise,” Layla snapped. She wiped her blood onto her pants and straightened. “She’s not doing well. Maybe we shouldn’t have encouraged this, but I think it’s best she saw the outcome for herself to understand we have to make better plans.”
Sterling tried to start down the hallway, but Layla moved in front of him. He gazed at the bathroom door and frowned at her. “I can help her.”
Layla gave him a tight smile that did not reach her eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“You were not in her life for a significant amount of time—do you honestly think you can handle how bad it gets?” Sterling demanded.
She studied his face, noting the way his teeth worried his lowered lip and how his amber eyes swam with apprehension. He clung to his old life with Elise so desperately, Layla recognized a piece of herself in that fear of losing everything. Still, the memory of reaching into the wound Sterling had left in Elise’s chest kept Layla from budgingwhen he tried again to move past her. “You are not allowed to tell me how to make her feel better when I am the one who dug your bullet out of her not even three months ago,” she said coldly. Layla relished in the way he fell back, defeated. She turned for the bathroom door and pushed it open.
“Get out,” Elise almost shouted. She stood over the sink, her hands clenching the ceramic so hard, her knuckles strained.
Layla shut the door behind her and folded her arms over her chest. “Should’ve locked the door if you didn’t want anyone coming in.” It took her a moment to realize Elise was staring hard not at her reflection in the mirror but the vial of venom that sat in front of it. Layla shot forward, reaching for the glass, but Elise snatched it up before she could grab it.
“Do not take that,” Layla ordered.
“Why not? How long have you been starving yourself? I can’t be self-destructive? It makes me feel better,” Elise said shakily.
“Elise, that’s crazy. Do you even hear how crazy you sound?” Layla hissed.
Elise’s fingers tightened on the bottle so hard, Layla feared the glass would break and venom would spill directly into her veins. “I know I’m fucking crazy. You don’t have to say it.” Her voice was shrill, stuck between a whisper and a shriek.
Layla swallowed. Guilt beat at her heart, and her chest grew heavy as Elise’s hands shook. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know exactly what you meant. I know what Jamie and Sterling say too. You all look at me like I’m some disaster waiting to happen. Inever should have asked any of you for help. I should have just done this on my own.” Her voice broke, and she wiped at her eyes with her free hand. Elise twisted the top on the vial, and Layla immediately sprang forward again, this time successfully grabbing the venom. Still, the Saint heiress tried to pry it from her, but Layla yanked it out of her grasp.
“Enough,” Layla huffed out. “I refuse to watch you ruin yourself like this.”
Elise’s grief turned to ire, her eyes narrowing to angry slits. “Since when do you care? You didn’t think to stop by for two whole months and left me to rot here with Jamie. Now, all of a sudden, I’m such a damn burden to you—”
“Because every second with you is torture. I cannot control myself around you,” Layla hissed. She could hardly understand the words coming out of her. For so long she had only thought them, never giving them voice. Now the object of her pervasive thoughts knew exactly how much she occupied her mind. Layla turned before she could say something even more reckless. Her head buzzed with anticipation, her throat dry and vision narrowing.
Elise’s voice cut through the cloudiness. “I’m not done talking to you.”
Layla had just managed to crack open the door when an irresistible scent filled the air. Blood—warm and fresh—swarmed her senses. Every reaper instinct kicked in instantly, and Layla whirled on Elise, her eyes finding the source of the bleeding. A considerable cut had been made in her palm, and the heiress let it bleed out,scarlet drops hitting the floor in rhythmic intervals.
All Layla could do was freeze. With blood rushing in her head and the violent urge to feed climbing up her throat, Layla feared getting too close to Elise. It was difficult to even process her words. All she could think about was the racing pulse in her jugular vein that contained everything Layla needed in that moment. She let out a heavy breath and pressed herself against the door. “Elise. I can’t do this right now.” Her fangs emerged again, and this time they would not retract, no matter how much Layla willed them to. Even her vision derailed. Red narrowed her sight to a pinpoint, searching for the new life suddenly prancing into the room.
“You…” Elise noticed Layla’s shifting attention. A small meow sounded mere steps away, where Hendricks pawed his way into the room and sat beneath the counter to watch them.
Layla’s lips parted at the sight of him. The blood fury didn’t care what kind of blood she got, so long as it was fresh and filling. She took a step toward him, but Elise moved faster, scooping him into her arms and carrying him out of the room. Once he was gone and Elise returned, she was all Layla could focus on. The anger rolling off Elise stood no chance at stopping her. A red haze began to cover her eyes again, and her pupils dilated as Elise drew closer to her after shutting the door.
“You’ve always wanted to be the hero so badly—you make yourself responsible for too much—you cannot even realize how much danger you put yourself and others in,” Layla said breathily.
Elise’s brows furrowed. “Because I still have a family that I wishto take care of, that makes me a hero? What’s so wrong with wanting a better life for my sister?”
“You shouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself to achieve that,” Layla snapped.
The Saint heiress let out an exasperated breath. “You hate me anyway. Why the hell do you care?”
Layla pursed her lips, for fear of what she would do if she opened them and caught a mouthful of Elise’s blood. It was all she could think about now. Not the building anguish in Elise’s eyes that nearly eclipsed the dark anger in them. Nor the way her chest rose and fell rapidly like she had been trying to catch her breath the entire time they had been talking. All Layla saw, tasted, and smelled was blood. When Elise stepped closer, her lips moving to form more words, Layla could not hold back.
She leaned forward and crashed her mouth onto Elise’s. Biting her would have been gentler. Kinder. When Layla felt Elise’s lips under hers, she kissed her with enough force to bruise. All adrenaline built up from her rising blood fury went into the kiss, but she began to pull back when her thoughts caught up with her actions.
But Elise’s hands were moving behind Layla’s head, pulling through her hair. Elise groaned into Layla’s mouth, and Layla felt her fingers dig into the heiress’s back involuntarily. Elise pressed closer to her, her lips parting over Layla’s. She complied as Layla pushed her back on top of the sink, releasing her just long enough to steady herself on the ceramic. Her legs wrapped around Layla’s waist, and she squeezed her knees against her hips, drawing hercloser.
