Blake released Malakai, who gasped for air as he backed away. The guards grabbed him and dragged him out of the room.
Blake quickly turned and kneeled before me. I was holding my wrist. It was still bleeding and my vision was getting blurry.
“Hey, Blake,” I said. “What is that thing? The shiny, glowy-looking stuff that’s swirling around over there?”
He lifted me into his arms and grabbed my wrist himself, putting pressure on the wound.
“That is how I go home—to my world,” he said, and then I rested my head against his chest and closed my eyes.
Chapter 27
Otherworldly Shadows
ANNA
Cold sheets touched my skin. I sat up, my hand touching my wrist where the cut had been made. There was nothing—no blood, wound, or scar.
“You healed quickly,” Blake said.
I saw him at the end of the bed and realized I was in bed.
“Where am I? Whose bed is this?” I asked.
Dark wood furniture with an ornate finish and black curtains was set against a deep red carpet. He stood at the end of the four-poster, his expression stoic.
“Mine,” he said, watching me carefully.
I stopped breathing and abruptly looked away.
“How?” I asked, touching my wrist where the cut was. “How has the wound healed already?”
He didn’t answer me.
“Where is he—Malakai?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
“Gone. I have taken care of it. He will not be back,” Blake said. “I am sorry that I did not get there sooner. I am arranging for Melanie to be escorted home too.”
“Melanie?” I asked, recalling my encounter with her. “Don’t.”
Blake was incredulous.
“I don’t want you to send her away.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “It’s something she said that I don’t quite understand. I’m not scared of her.”
He watched me curiously. “Fine.”
I got out of his bed, my hands shaking with frustration. "What were they doing? Everyone seems to know what’s happening here but me. Are they in some kind of cult? And do you have anything to do with it? Are they drinking blood? Is that what happened to Saryna and Isabella?"
Irritation laced his words. "You are upset."
I glared at him in dismay. "What do I have to do to get answers? Even my friends dodge truths around me now. But you—you're different. You don't seem to care if my mind wanders. You encourage it. Why is that? Why don’t you suppress my curiosity with some valid explanation like the others?”
His eyes were clouded, as if all the answers I sought were buried there. I felt odd, as if I had to go inside him to dig out a piece of myself.
“What am I doing here?” I whispered.
