1
Iris
Black cherries, rum, and fresh cloves—the heavenly scent envelops me like a cocoon. I don’t want to leave this safe space, but a sharp throb in the back of my head makes me wince, and a pained moan tumbles out from deep within my chest before the Herculean effort to open my eyes is successful.
Warm orange light paints the walls of Kaiden’s bedroom as I find myself in his bed again. Only this time, I don’t feel healed. No. I’m on fire. On top of that, each jagged breath stabs me in the lungs. When I look down, I notice I’m dressed in an oversized tee, the lower half of my body covered by a black, silky sheet.
Sam is sleeping peacefully next to me. Resembling a crimson river, her hair is fanned out over the pillow while drool tricklesdown from her parted lips. She is wearing the same red dress from the club, holding my hand in slumber. Her grip is bruising—as if she’s afraid I might disappear into thin air.
Untangling my fingers from hers, I try to push up, but the room starts twirling while an icepick pierces my brain. At the third attempt, I manage to shift upward a bit. A groan slips out. Sam jackknifes into a sitting position, blinking slowly, a disoriented look on her face. Her drowsy gaze jumps to me before she lets out a shrill cry that makes my teeth grind.
“Iris!” She throws her arms around my neck in a vise-like grip so fast I almost get whiplash. She starts sobbing, hiccups coming between each word. “You’re a-awake! Th-a-ank the Goddess! And your eyes are back to n-normal.”
“I can’t breathe,” I say. The words come out hoarse since my tongue weighs about a hundred pounds, and my throat is as dry as sandpaper.
“I thought you were dead when we found you.”
“Sam—”
“I was worried sick.”
“You’re crushing my windpipe,” I get out louder this time.
“I’m so happy you’re not dead!”
“Sam!”
“What?” she asks through sniffles as she pulls back.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t die before because you almost choked me to death right now,” I chuckle out, but the sound turns into a strangled whimper at the sharp stab of pain in my left side.
She wipes at her mascara-smeared cheeks and scowls at me. “Don’t be a bitch; I thought I was going to lose my best friend. You don’t know what that did to me.” A look of utter sorrow passes over her features. “I’m so sorry for leaving you alone. I shouldn’t have…I’m so stupid. This is all my fault—”
I cut her off. “It’s not your fault.”
“But—”
“But nothing. There’s no way you could have known that motherfucker was going to drug and assault me in the back alley.” I place my hand over hers on the bed and squeeze. “What did you mean by my eyes are back to normal?”
“Before you passed out, you looked at me, and your irises were a deep shade of violet, and the sclera was completely black. It was super freaky.”
“Oh…”
“Do you remember what happened? Who did this to you? We found you beaten to a pulp next to a weird, decomposed body.”
I white-knuckle the sheet. “I killed him,” I whisper, my gaze burning a hole in the floor. The reality of what I’ve done comes crashing in at full speed.
I killed Erik.
Akin to lightning strikes, flashes of the attack invade my brain.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
Sam lifting my chin snaps me out of it. Wrath-filled emeralds spark with determination and a promise of vengeance. “Iris, look at me! You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
“I…um…fuck—” Inhaling a few calming breaths, I drop my trembling fingers in my lap. “It was Erik. Grayson’s grandson.”
A muscle jumps in her taut jaw. “That fucking scumbag! His dead stare always creeped me out.”
