I hate it. It’s like the wind has been knocked out of her. I also kick myself for not telling her where we’re going. She must think I’ve gone insane. I’m so obsessed with the battle for control raging inside me, I can barely concentrate on anything else.
“The Spire. They’ve taken Roscoe there.”
I hear her swallow a few times before she manages a reply. “Have you heard anything?”
“He got injured,” I explain, suddenly uncertain whether she knows even that much. “I was with Fabian when he found outand I told him I’d come in search of you, since my senses are strongest.”
And my vampire craves you.
I don’t verbalize the last part, no matter how true it is. It’ll only terrify her and that’s the last thing she needs right now. I avoid making eye contact, too. She doesn’t need to read the depraved things going through my mind, or see the filthy gleam in my eyes.
She’s vulnerable. Frightened.
Now is not the time.
We reach The Spire in record time. Only once we’re inside and I carefully place her back on her feet, I hesitate. This building is not somewhere I’ve ever been inside. And tonight’s no different. I can’t imagine I’d be a welcome addition to the sick ward.
I... can’t seem to tear myself away, though. Even though I should. I should head home and self-flagellate enough so that I can keep myself from returning and hovering around this place like an unwanted ghoul.
“You were being held by vampires,” I say, the scents of that house suddenly clicking into place.
She nods. “Simpson and his cronies. They want to use me as their personal weapon.”
Damn.
Perhaps if I’d found proof and given it to the vampire elders, tonight wouldn’t have unfolded as it did.
That’s plenty of ammunition for me to torture myself with.
“I’ll let you go,” I say, still not quite able to meet her eyes. “I, uh, hope you find your mage well.”
I’m a buffoon, one who’s forgotten how to speak properly. Silver stares up at me. Her brow creased as my eyes dart away from her face.
This shifty, uncomfortable mess isn’tmeand it’s making me want to tear my skin off with discomfort.
“Would you... let me know how he’s doing?” I ask.
“You really want me to?” She sounds surprised.
I glance down at her and this time I meet her eye, just for a moment. “I do. You care about him and that means, in a roundabout way, I care about him too.”
Because I’m a fool for her. A bleeding heart. Before I ever met her, I was a chunk of ice. Stagnant and frozen in time. But slowly she’s been melting my internal walls.
She swallows hard and licks her lip and I dig deep to avoid tracking the movement like a hungry dog, begging for scraps.
“You saw what happened tonight. What I did,” she whispers.
I nod slowly, confused about where this is leading. “I did.”
“And you’re... grossed out? Terrified?”
I frown and blink down at her. What is she talking about? “None of those things.”
“That’s why you won’t look at me, though, right? I—”
Oh.
Oh fuck. I’ve fucked this all up.
