Page 14 of The Unraveling

My brows pull together as I feel for my own fangs—gone like I never turned to have them at all.

“They won’t extend!” Victor’s pitched voice has my heart tossing itself against my ribs.

My vision shrinks, thoughts scattering. Each of my senses slips away with the dreadful, nauseating sensation of my feet being torn from beneath me. I crash into a deep darkness, a kaleidoscope of colorful thoughts and memories—images of blood and longing—spinning through my mind while sounds warp in my ears.

I flail through them until I settle in the memory of Dr. Todd’s fangs poking into my wrist. Excitement coiled around my pulsing heart, knowing it only made the blood fill his cold mouth even faster.

I loved the pleasure-filled groans he made through his deep swallows while giving into temptation, the act of drinking directly from humans forbidden—a self-imposed rule. It made me think of what he might sound like if he took me into his bed to do more than monitor my health.

I was charmed by the idea of my very own Dracula healing me with a bite, loving me both deep in my throat and between my legs.

With a sharp gasp, as if I’ve been drowning and can finally take a desperate breath, the dream-memory flits away. Dr. Todd’s face—his crimson lips shaping words—appears inches from mine. The light trickles in. The feel of the hard floor is all around me.

“Isla!” His panic leaks through with the ringing in my ears.

There’s not enough energy in my body for embarrassment—though I know this isn’t the first time I’ve passed out. I shouldn’t be ashamed that it happened in front of a doctor of all people.

If there’s any good in it, it’s how he always pulls me into his arms.

Chapter 5

I focus on even breaths, eyes closed, my cheek pressed against his chest as I sit in his lap. My drumming heart fills my head, my body weak and sweaty in his grip like he finally chose to spend the night with me.

My words are airy. “I love you, Dr. Todd.”

His arms shake as he squeezes me tightly. “I love you too, Isla.”

A triumphant noise rolls in the back of my throat, and I float in the pure bliss of finally hearing him admit those words, despite how it feels like I’ve heard them a million times before.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, voice strained yet soft in my ear. “We’re okay, Isla.”

“Dr. Todd,” Daisy chokes out. The sound of her voice snaps me back to reality with a faltering breath. Her eyes are wide and wet, bottom lip trembling as she kneels beside us. “What’s happening?”

Victor clears his throat. “Everything’s going to be fine. We just . . . need more immortal blood. I feel better already.”

I’m unsure if, like me, he doesn’t quite know what happened. Or if he does, but the truth keeps slipping through his fingers.

“But Dr. Todd,” she protests. “I don’t understand. Your hearts are beating. You’re warm. Your eyes did not burn red when you were feeding, and your fangs won’t extend? You both seem miserably ill—I heard vomiting last night. Coughing. No offense, but neither ‌of you seem fully mentally aware.”

“Whatever this is will pass,” he says, tone hollow. “We’re immortal and can’t suddenly perish so easily. It’s poison, not condemnation.”

A stitch forms between Daisy’s blond brows as her tight gaze slides to me. I merely smile.

“I must stand, love,” Victor murmurs as he shifts beneath me. “I need to take samples from Bradley and continue with notes.”

Daisy’s soft arms surround me, keeping me steady as Victor shifts from beneath me and plants a hard kiss atop my head before grunting and rising to his feet. He wobbles ever so slightly, then walks with his back straight from the room.

“Isla,” Daisy whispers as she scoots her body tighter to mine and sets her lips mere millimeters from my ear. “We should call Dr. Smith.”

I squint at her while the face of a middle-aged man tries to take shape in my mind. My lips part, recognition shuddering nearby but never coming close enough for me to reach.

“Call Dr. Smith?” I echo plainly, which makes her sigh in defeat.

Victor stumbles back into the room, a half-filled vial of crimson in his hand as he leans against the door frame. “Do not call Dr. Smith!”

“Oh . . .” I smile, mind flooding with more malformed memories. “I know Dr. Smith. He’s your colleague. You ran a practice together in London as humans, then vampires . . . It’s been a couple months since he last visited, hasn’t it? Should we call him, Victor? He could help, and it would be nice to see him.”

His soft, friendly smile remains a shadow in my mind, but I can nearly hear his smooth voice.