“Your questions vex me.” Rolling his eyes, he swayed a little as if lack of blood made him dizzy. Swallowing hard, he let me go, then unhooked the line from his cuff.
His fingers slipped a little, his head tipping forward.
The line didn’t fully unhook, leaving the port open.
A spray of dark red arced through the air—splattering across my bare arms, my collarbone, my dress.
I choked.
He froze.
I gagged as crimson droplets soaked into the grey cotton of my dress like some sick artwork. My stomach lurched; my head went heavy.
I gagged.
Lucien’s gaze snapped to my face. “Don’t you dare throw up.”
I staggered back, hands trembling. “W-Why...what are you—” I couldn’t finish, glancing at the morbid mess covering me.
My throat closed.
His jaw worked as he yanked the line out and the port in his cuff closed. Blood covered his thigh from where he’d leaked but he didn’t seem to care. Standing carefully, he stepped toward me. “You’re shaking.”
I swallowed hard. “I-I’m fine.”
His gaze searched mine, his lips far too colourless. Reaching for my hand, he murmured, “Come. I’ll clean it off you.”
His fingers brushed my wrist.
A sting of electricity bit into me with the sharpest teeth.
And I couldn’t do it.
Spinning around, I raced toward the sink in the corner of the room. Wrenching on the tap, I washed my face, my neck, my chest, and arms with panicked swipes.
“Rook—”
I froze.
My name.
He said myname.
Dripping wet, and still streaked in his blood, I slowly turned to face him. “Whatdid you just say?”
A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. Guilt? Amusement? Annoyance? “Nothing.” Turning away, he movedcarefully toward the stainless-steel medical table by the fridge, the mostly empty blood bag dangling from his fingers.
With methodical precision, he slit the top with a sterile scalpel.
“What are you doing?” Snatching a fresh towel from the shelf, I scrubbed myself dry and drifted toward him, hating how deliberately he moved as if every action threatened to knock him out.
I knew that feeling.
I knew the strength it took to look normal all while your body forsook you.
Not looking at me, he opened a drawer and selected a small glass vial. “Hold this.”
I obeyed on instinct, allowing him to insert the vial into my hand. His jaw clenched as our skin touched again. His fingers trembled as another conduit of crackling current flowed hotly between us.
