Another sound spills from him, softer this time, a broken whimper that falls against my skin. The needy tremor combined with the eye contact makes my core clench traitorously in response. I can’t stop the thought that crashes into me–that this side of him, helpless and desperate, is nothing like the cold, calculating silence I’ve known. It’s raw and unguarded, the kind of need I never thought I’d see from him, and it unravels something deep inside me I don’t want loosened.
His eyes flicker as he blinks against the night, pupils dilating, lips still slick with my blood as if he’ll never have enough.
No. This can’t go any farther.
I force myself to wrench back before the moment devours me whole.
My wrist slips from his mouth, tearing a soft groan from his throat as though the loss is agony to him. His hands scramble blindly, reaching to drag it back, clutching for me with the desperation of a drowning man, but I slide off his body and onto the grass beside him, breath heaving.
I glance down at the nearly healed fang marks, reminding myself why I opened them in the first place. I can’t give it all to him. Not when Callum and Dante are still lying motionless in the grass next to us.
They all need me and I need to have enough left to save them too, while keeping enough for myself to still have strength.
Clarity begins to sharpen in Elias’s eyes, chasing away the haze of need that had burned there only moments ago. His body lurches as he suddenly surges upright, his shoulders trembling with the effort. His gaze darts to me as he wipes at his mouth, then glances down to the faint smears of blood against his skin.
His hand scrubs across his lips, quick and frantic, and he spits the remnants onto the grass, his expression twisting into bewilderment and horror.
“Did you just feed me your fucking blood?” His voice is rough and jagged with disbelief.
I stare at him, chest still heaving, and the sharp edge of annoyance slices through me at the disgust in his tone. My lips curl into a mocking smirk as I lift a brow at him.
“That’s a hot commodity you’re spitting out,” I mutter, the words rolling out low and bitter, my humor dark enough to get me through the trauma attached to the statement. The compound had revered my blood and here he is spitting it into the dirt. “Terrance would be ashamed.”
His head jerks toward me, his expression hardening even as my blood that saved his life still stains the edges of his mouth. “What the hell are you trying to do, turn me into some kind of newborn vampire pawn with your blood?”
The words are spat like venom and are heavy with accusation, as if what just happened was a trap instead of the only reason he’s still breathing.
I hold his gaze, my body buzzing with too many tangled emotions to unravel–desire, disgust, the faintest flicker of relief that he’s even upright enough to argue. I don’t bother answering his paranoia. I don’t have the energy or time for it. Instead, I let my expression flatten, every muscle smoothing into indifference.
My voice slips out under my breath, more for myself than him as my eyes fall to my wrist. “Why did I save him?”
“I didn’t ask you to save me!” he snaps back instantly, drawing my gaze back up to see his jaw grinding.
My thin control over my emotions snaps just as fast as his did.
“I didn’t ask you to take a bullet for me, either!” I shout, my voice ringing across the empty field. “But here we fucking are, Elias.”
For a moment the world narrows to the space between us. His chest heaves with shallow breaths and mine matches it. We stay like that, glares locked, neither of us willing to be the first to look away.
A faint groan of pain echoes from Callum and it snaps me back into action. I don’t have time to have a metaphorical dick measuring contest with Elias.
My palms press into the damp grass as I shift forward, needing to crawl around him toward where Callum lies under the moonlight. My throat burns with words I try to suppress, but they spill out anyway as I pass Elias’s shoulder. “You should’ve just let me take the bullet.”
A hand clamps around my arm, halting me. His grip isn’t cruel, but it’s forceful, and when I glance over at him, the intensity of his gaze pins me to the spot.
“Maybe I should have,” he bites out, his tone cutting enough to make my chest flare with instant fury. My lips part, ready to snarl back that maybe I should’ve let him fucking die then, but he doesn’t let me get the words out.
His jaw works once, then his voice drops, stripped of its usual edge. “But the thought of standing by once again and letting you get hurt wasn’t an option. Not after you stood by me and helped defend my family when you didn’t have to.”
My mouth parts, but no words come. The sharp retort I wanted to fling at him dies on my tongue, leaving me caught in the weight of his gaze and words.
His lips purse, his mouth tight like he wants to swallow the words coming to his mind, but then he lets out a heavy exhale, shoulders sagging as he seems to give in.
“For what it’s worth…I’m sorry, Briar.”
My mouth is suddenly dry and my tongue heavy with words I can’t force out. The emotional scars and memories are still too close and heavy, and I know I’m not ready to accept his apology yet. So, I twist the moment away the only way I know how.
“For the record, you won’t be my vampire pawn,” I mutter, tilting my head at him. “A shame, I know. It would be great to force you to feed me grapes and fan me.”
