“He’s having a panic attack,” Sean said.
Suddenly, both him and Lyr had wrapped their arms around me, and were moving me forward, supporting my weight as my feet moved helplessly across the waterway. I couldn’t even see where we were going.
I could barely hear anything over the ringing in my ears. No. Not ringing. The slurping sounds I’d made as an akadim, the sounds I made as I swallowed blood—Lyr’s blood.
“It hasn’t even been a full day,” Lyr said. “He’s still getting used to everything again.”
“Was that his first meal?” Sean asked.
“It was.” Lyr’s voice trembled with worry. “He only changed late last night, but I should’ve?—”
“No. No. It’s okay. He’ll be all right,” Sean said, soothing her. Then in my ear, “Rhyan, we’re going to step up a few stairs. Okay? And I’ll get you some water.” He paused, and his hand lowered on my back, then down to my thigh directing me to the step. “Up you go now.”
I stepped up, my new boot hitting the stair, and then the next, and the next, and then there was darkness as we walked inside. I lost track of everything. My surroundings. Where I was.
“I can’t breathe,” I gasped.
I felt myself being sat in a chair, and warm arms wrapping around me. Lyr. She crawled into my lap, her hands on my face, palms to my cheeks. Forehead pressed to mine.
“Rhyan,” she said. “Breathe. Breathe. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re alive. You’re safe.”
I opened my eyes, staring into hers. Hazel. Brown, and green, and with flecks of gold. I shook my head, my chest heaving. “I hurt you,” I said, my voice weak.
“No,” she said firmly. “You didn’t. It’s the memory. It wasn’t you.”
“I tasted your blood.”
A door opened and closed. “Here,” she said. “Sean brought you water. Can you drink some for me?”
I opened my mouth and felt glass against my lip then cold water sliding over my tongue. I swallowed. Water. Water. Not blood. Not blood.
My armor loosened, and was removed, sliding over my head, and then I felt Lyr’s hand snaking inside my tunic, pressing against my bare skin, right over my heart.
“Deep breath,” she said. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” She kissed my cheek. “It’s okay.”
My eyes filled with tears, sharp painful breaths contracting in my chest.
Lyr shook her head. “I’m okay.” She pulled her hair off her shoulder, and showed me her neck, the very place where my akadim fangs had sunk in. “See? There’s barely even a mark. It’s healing.”
But I still felt like I was out of my body, my chest too tight. She looked past me suddenly, and frowned, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
Then I heard footsteps and the door opened and closed again.
“Rhyan,” Lyr said, shifting closer on my lap, “it’s just you and me. We’re going to replace the memory, okay?”
“What? What do you mean?”
She leaned forward, her chest against mine, and pulled on my neck, dragging my lips to her skin. To the bite marks. I shook my head.
“Put your mouth on me,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Put your mouth on my neck.”
I tried to shift away. “No. No!”
But she was so strong, I had no choice but to comply. Her flesh was soft against my lips, my face, and she smelled—she smelled sweet. Her usual scent, something like vanilla and lemons, was there against the musk that was just, her. I breathed in deeply.
