He’d bitten me four times. But he’d only drunk from me two times. Because the other times… he’d been fucking sampling my blood. Right?
All the time, I’d been wondering how my stalker had managed to draw my blood.
All the while…
“Please,” I whispered again. “Please tell me I’m wrong.”
Eric opened his mouth.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slowly opened.
I thought I’d felt dread before. Dread of finding another one of those fucking notes taped to my door. But that had been nothing. Nothing compared to the dread I was feeling now as I watched Eric helplessly opening and closing his mouth.
Because he couldn’t lie to me.
Another one of his comments I hadn’t paid attention to. I thought it’d been a figure of speech, not something he physically wasn’t able to do.
I let out a laugh as the tears finally spilled over.
The café.
The fucking tea.
Hell, the way we’d just coincidentally met when I was on my way to the ER.
It hadn’t been coincidental at all.
Had anything been?
Anything at all?
“Finn,” Eric started, his voice laced with anguish that only made me madder.
How dare he sound hurt when he was the one who’d betrayed me all along?
“Not here,” I ground out, hurrying along the hallway to my apartment door.
I wasn’t afraid of finding another note anymore.
Because the person who’d left all those creepy notes was walking right next to me.
I let out a shrill laugh.
Only days ago, I’d been so fucking scared my stalker might wait in my apartment for me—all while I’d let him inside countless times.
Stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Eric opened the door with trembling fingers.
“Tell me it’s not true,” I whispered again, knowing he couldn’t.
“Let me explain, please,” he said, reaching out for me, but I couldn’t. The thought of him touching me…
I shuddered.
He’d betrayed me.
