Page 101 of Hunger & Harmony

“Maybe I should say that.”

She folds the tissue into a clean one and crumples it in her hand. Her fist shakes; she’s holding it so tight.

“You don’t survive monsters by loving them, but . . .” Her electric irises stun me again as she whispers, “You shouldn’t become them, either.”

I nod slowly, though I don’t fully understand. Before I can ask, her fury dissolves, and she glances at the hallway behind me.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

“Ah, just up the hall. Door to the left,” I say, and she stands.

“I’ll be back.”

She grabs her purse off the floor.

“Take your time.”

I draw ‌a breath when she strides up the hall. Funny how she’s always been like that. She can never be vulnerable for too long.

The breath releases, and I glance at the window. It’s dark now, and ‌my chest tightens. Because she’ll probably go home soon? Or because Niko moves through the night more easily?

Love doesn’t make monsters safer.

I don’t think he’s a monster. Vampires aren’t inherently good or bad. I’ve seen both now, and I feel no different.

Water runs in the background, and she feels so far and close at once. She’s right. The whole world has turned its back on me, and for a bond I didn’t choose, a life I didn’t ask for, and a man who didn’t want this for us.

Is it fair to blame only him? My hand instinctively presses to my chest, and the tattoo that still heals above my heart.

Could I call what’s between us . . .

Love?

A sharp pang hits me, and I double over. My hand moves from my heart to my throat, Niko’s hunger bleeding in the back of my teeth. I emit a low hiss; the bond flares painfully, and for what reason, I can’t tell.

“Shit . . .” I mutter, my bones turning to jelly as I collapse onto the floor.

I don’t know how long it holds me. A second, an hour, a lifetime. Even when it eases, it’s only slightly, the thirst leaving me with more than a parched tongue.

Empty. The bond flares within nothing. I claw at the rug, trying to feel something, reaching for anything that brings me back to reality.

“Cadence!”

A flash of purple rushes towards me, and I suck in a painful breath when Viola gathers me up.

“Sorry, I . . .”

I wince, the pain flashing again.

“But your heart still . . .” Her sentence dies before she quickly says, “Don’t speak. Just breathe.”

Trying to do that, sweat gathers on my brow. Why is this so painful? The bond lashes stronger now, each wave of starvation cutting like a blade.

In the distance, a door slams against a wall. The hunger rages, like flames arcing out from my center.

That’s when I hear footsteps. Scattered, like someone stumbling towards us. Viola’s hold tightens on me, and I try to breathe enough to look.

“Cadence.”