Unable to trust myself, I turn and leave the room quickly, the soft carpet blurring beneath my feet as one thought pounds through my head over and over again.
Men are all alike.
Human or vampire—it doesn’t matter.
Once they get what they want, they can’t wait to get rid of you.
63
Jules
I tell myself I don’t have time to feel hurt.
There are bigger things at stake than my bruised heart—like my best friend’s life. Like her soul getting sucked out of her body.
Still, the ache sits in my chest as I make my way down the corridor toward Hanna’s room—a dull pressure that won’t go away no matter how hard I try to shove it aside.
Focus, Jules. Hanna needs you, I lecture myself. I’ll just have to get over it—I’ve gotten over men before. It’s just that none of them called me his “Queen” and treated me so well. I think it hurts more because Lucian was so possessive just hours ago…and now he’s willing to never seen me again.
I try to push the thoughts aside as I reach Hanna’s room. When I open the door, the first thing I see is Mr. Mittens.
He’s curled protectively on the bed, a black-and-white loaf of fur tucked near the pillows like a sentry on duty. The moment he spots me, he lifts his head, hops down, and pads over with a soft, indignant mrrrow, pressing his forehead into my shin.
“Good morning to you too,” I murmur, bending to scratch behind his ears.
He purrs immediately, loud and insistent, headbutting my hand. I pet him absently as my gaze lifts to Hanna.
She’s dressed and sitting on the loveseat in front of the fire, hands folded in her lap. A plate of brunch sits untouched on the side table beside her—flaky pastries, fruit, Eggs Benedict, warm and steaming which I know for a fact is her favorite…but it looks as though she hasn’t even taken a bite.
She looks wrong.
I would say she’s pale, but pale doesn’t begin to describe it. Her skin has taken on a strange translucence, like moonlight through thin parchment.
For a horrible second, it almost feels like I can see through her, as though she’s halfway gone already.
Fear stabs straight through my heart.
“Hanna? Are you all right?” I hurry over and sit on the loveseat beside her.
She turns her head slowly, eyes unfocused and dreamy in a way that makes my stomach clench.
She reminds me—absurdly, almost painfully—of the heroine from that historical romance Book Club read last month. Ashes at Dawn. The one with the frail young woman who spent the entire book coughing up blood—which everyone knows is the universal symbol of “oh, she has TB and she’s definitely going to die”—while the wicked rake fell hopelessly in love with her.
That book did not have a happy ending, but I don’t want to think about it now.
“I’m fine,” Hanna says, but even her voice sounds see-through, if that makes any sense. “I just feel kind of weak, that’s all,” she murmurs.
Weak? That’s like calling a hurricane a light breeze! She looks terrible. But of course, I can’t tell her that.
“Just hang in there,” I say, trying to sound strong. “Lucian promised that we’re getting you home today. And guess what—I’m going with you.”
I try to sound upbeat—casual. But the bitterness still sneaks in around the edges.
“What?” Hanna’s eyes widen. “Are you serious? He’s letting you go?”
“Yes, he says that from the minute he grabbed me, I’ve been trying to get home. So he’s giving me what I want.” I shrug, like it doesn’t matter—like my heart isn’t breaking in two. “So I guess we’ll both be at the next meeting of Book Club together.”
“Sure—I can’t wait.”
