Was this to be the night I would finally die?
Body weightless, I was cradled by soft skin nestled among black fabric draped over my rattling limbs. Eyes prickled with tears, I fisted the fabric, the coughing relinquishing itself at last. I dipped my head to my chest, and the taste of blood heavy and exhaustion wavered with each breath. Silas’s body braced mine. He shifted, muttering a soft groan as he held out his wrist, the sheen of dark blood dripping onto his pants. “Drink.”
I pushed his hand away, the effort taxing, as it did not budge. “No, I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t? Drink.”
“I can’t.”
“Why do you insist on being so stubborn?” Silas sighed, and the cut on his wrist closed. He took my hand in his, admiring them, squeezing softly. “Do you want to be a walking corpse, is that it? A beautiful walking corpse.”
“That’s not it.” I tucked my head into my knees, recalling Miriam’s last words. “It means I have to keep a promise. If I drink and become like you—it means keeping a promise that’ll kill me either way.”
The thought of going back to the crumbling home, to Mama’s judging eyes and Miriam’s sweet innocence to the world was a noose I was not ready to tighten. I envied Miriam for Mama’s favoritism, the control shehad over her own life. She had a choice in what she did. Even away from Endovier, I did not have choices—I was more of a pawn in freeing people from a monster who showed more kindness than I had seen in the last year.
I wetted my lips. “I can’t go back to being a pawn, to having my life lived for me.”
Since I’ve met this man, I’ve been open to a world of contradictions of what should and shouldn’t be. Nothing about him made any sense, and it terrified me.
I traced the lines of his callous hand, the warmth of his scent and body melding with mine.
Heat burned in the pit of my stomach and threatened to explode in beautifully disastrous ways. The intense desire drove me to the brink of madness to where dream and reality mashed against each other in horrifying beauty.
Silas stroked my back, easing the ache from the cough as exhaustion plunged me further into wandering thoughts.
I wanted to be selfish. To let this man—this beast ruin me and sully the last bit of innocence I had left to offer. Be the last thing I’d experience on the Earth before death swept me away in their cool embrace. I’d accepted my ruination at this man’s hand.
Silas’s arm crossed my body, nails slicing into his wrist. Blood welled from the wound as he offered it once more. “Then, drink and live on your own terms. Not because you owe a debt or a promise but because you want to live. To visit places you have never seen,to do things you haven’t done and everything else in between. Drink and live, Valeria.Live.”
I stared at the blood, and it dripped into my lap as dark red stained the white nightgown. “I won’t turn into what you are if I drink this?”
I was childish to ask, taking his wrist with shaky hands. I marveled at how the wound slowly closed, stitching itself back together and, in moments, disappeared.
Silas shook his head. “No, it’ll just heal, but I will caution you to be wary for a few hours. With my blood in your system, I don’t want you to do anything that may risk causing death.”
I met his gaze, and questions swirled about in my head as blood coated us both. I didn’t speak them aloud as I brought his wrist to my lips. I licked the wound. It tasted nothing like the blood I have been coughing up for the last year. It tasted of dreams, of hope, and of sweet warmth, as if I’d been basking in the summer sun. I took slow, greedy sips—the world fell away into nothingness, fire surging combusting.
He groaned as his other hand stroked my cheek. “That’s it. Gently now.”
Silas’s voice was a million miles away, flooded by other images—visions of the boy.
In a rose garden under the cover of darkness, a halo of moonlight crowned him, face drawn in seriousness as he reached a hand out, grasping it.
They mean to hurt you.
Hurt me?
I fear for your life, Cecilia. They mean to kill you. This, I am sure.
His eyes dimmed with sadness. In this vision, he wore the same suit, with the white mask nowhere to be found. The scene played out from another perspective as if I was in their head, watching these scenes play out, their hands intertwining with his.
A spectator to the past.
Find the truth, no matter the cost. Save him, Valeria.
Blood splattered the lover’s hand, shock written across the boy’s face. A guttural, soul-wrenching scream echoed in my head. Crimson dotted the vision.
“Valeria, that’s enough. Valeria.”
