He grimaced and pushed up, scooting away from Alastair, who was now staring at him with disgust. “Well, I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault his voice is hot!”
“He is commanding me to get out, like a dog, and you are here getting turned on because of your weird fucking death wish!”
Foxx hissed, “I do not have a death wish!”
At the same time, Harlow snapped, “He doesn’t have a death wish!”
“Fine! FINE! I’m leaving.” Alastair surged up off the couch. “Just keep flirting with danger, Foxx! No worries, I’ll get that ‘Dead Bitch Walking’ T-shirt done, hopefully before you are six feet under, AGAIN!” The man hmphed and stormed off, out of the apartment.
Foxx stared with a pout. “I do not have a death wish.”
“You don’t,” Harlow agreed firmly.
“Right?!” he huffed, before flopping over on the couch.
Foxx gasped, his eyes snapping open. At first, all he saw was darkness, but then that changed, and he wished more than anything that it hadn’t.
Starting to tremble, tears filled his eyes as he looked around the scripture-covered platform. The steam was too thick to see what lay beyond the edges, but not too thick to hide the horror that was in front of him. There were bodies everywhere…covered in burns.
Dead…they were all dead. Every vampire. So many that he had tried to save…were dead…
Why…? They had hours…they had so many hours left… Why so quickly?!
Crawling forward, he turned over the closest person, tears dripping down his cheeks as he stared into the face of a vampire who he knew wasn’t more than thirty. There were burns etched into his skin wherever it was exposed. The trails were deep and violently red.
“I’m sorry,” Foxx whimpered.
With a shaky hand, he reached out, intending to close the young man’s eyes, when someone snagged his wrist. He stared at the dead man, as he was the very person who had grabbed him.
But that wasn’t right… Dead men don’t move…
“IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU!” the vampire screeched.
Foxx jerked from his hold. “I?—”
He cut off on a yelp, his eyes wide while his gaze flicked to the body and all around. But no matter how many times he looked away and back, the vampire he’d thought he turned over was in the exact same position he’d first found him in—face down. As if he’d never turned him over at all.
Heart racing, Foxx swallowed hard and slowly backed up, freezing when his hand brushed over fabric. He glanced back, his heart breaking at the small figure on the ground.
“No…” he sobbed. “No…” Turning around fully, he sobbed harder as he gently pulled the small child into his lap. “No… Melody, please…” he begged. But her hazel eyes remained empty and lifeless.
Pulling her against his chest, Foxx curled around her. Sobs wracked his body again and again as he screamed. “Please, y-you were supposed to live. W-why didn’t you live?!”
His vision blurred by tears, Foxx screamed the words again and again, never expecting an answer. But he got one, in the form of a question.
“Why did you live, Foxx?” a voice whispered softly.
Why had he lived? Why him and not them?
“Foxx, why did you live?” the voice repeated. “Why did you live? Foxx. Foxx?—”
“FOXX!”
Foxx gasped as he jerked awake. He found himself peering into Harlow’s light brown eyes. Brow pinched, the human was sitting there staring down at him, one of his big warm hands cradling Foxx’s right cheek.
“It’s okay, it was just a dream, Foxx.” Harlow brushed away one of his tears with his calloused thumb.
Bottom lip wobbling, Foxx tried to hold back the other tears, but didn’t manage. Instead, he reached up for Harlow just as the sob slammed into him.
