Page 41 of The Unraveling

I sniffle, a tear gathering against the bridge of my nose. “Perhaps.”

After wiping away my tear, he strokes my cheek with his thumb and murmurs, “You don’t have to rush toward it, love. I’ll do my best to guide you along the way.”

I nod against his leg, and we relax into a soft silence full of gentle wind blowing through the leaves and twittering birds perched on branches. We soak up the warmth together as we swing toward the early sun and sail back again, his fingers untangling in my hair to rest against the side of my head, his thumb stroking behind my ear.

“It’ll be okay,” Victor whispers. “I’m beginning to feel much better than I did earlier.”

I wipe my eyes and nod, though my body feels much the same. “My mind feels whole right now, at least.”

Victor inhales deep beneath me, hand pausing, his body relaxing as he slowly empties his lungs.

I rub my thumb on his thigh as we swing back and forth, my face meeting the rose-scented wind as it presses against me. The soft warmth coats my skin, and I sigh, grateful to be in this moment with Victor instead of us both fumbling around in the past.

“What’s something you’ve always wished you could do?” I ask. “As long as you’re happy, I think I could bear this.”

Time tightens between each languid creak, the swing slowing gradually as my heart thuds in my ears.

“Victor?” I whisper, trying to channel the energy into my arms and hands so I can push myself up to look at him. To see why he’s gone quiet this time. What memory might have stolen him, since our lucidity wouldn’t stay in sync forever.

The swing begins to settle. With so little movement, the wind may as well be breathing against it. I wait for him to push off the ground again, but he’s so soft and still.

“My love . . .?” I push my hands into his thighs, finally lifting my head to take in his face.

The sight of him wrings the air from my lungs, jaw falling wide as my heart pounds so hard it strangles me.

With his head tilted back against the seat, Victor stares up at the sky with no awareness in the faded brown of his eyes. I tip forward, my forearms landing against his unmoving chest. Crimson rivers trail thin down his cheeks. Blood runs thicker from the corners of his parted lips. No air wafts against my twisted expression.

My vision shrinks. The rising drone in my ears dampens the calling and fumbling on the porch. A guttural, bludgeoned animal noise wrenches itself from my throat as I shriek, “Victor!”

I think the sun finally burns me, because every single atom in my body is on fire.

Daisy’s pale arms circle me. I shriek again, weak limbs useless to combat her as she pulls me off the swing. Dr. Smith’s desperate voice is laced with pain, and the stench of burning flesh fills my lungs with each gasping breath as his reddened, blistering and smoking hands grip Victor to haul him off the swing and out of sight.

I’m blind in my agony, the ground hard against my knees as Daisy grips me. The garden spins red like I’m tangled in the roses; their thorns constrict with Daisy’s strained whispers, embedding their sharp points in my flesh and muscles.

If there was ever a moment since we were poisoned where I’ve forgotten Victor, I know it can’t possibly happen again with how his name echoes endlessly from my tongue.

“He didn’t die!” I hear myself plead breathlessly through the pounding and ringing in my ears. “We’re immortal. We can’t die!”

Victor and I are supposed to live, in love, forever.

Vampires do not get sick and die.

Chapter 16

I somehow end up on my feet despite ‌my legs lacking any sensation of standing. Daisy and I make it up the steps and into the house with so much noise in my head despite nobody talking.

Victor’s name fills my mind, no thought coming with it other than knowing he’s not with me and how I need him.

“Victor!” I call, the pain a chasm in my chest. My teary gaze swings around each room we move through as I search for him.

As we near the study, Daisy’s hands fall away from me, and Dr. Smith fills the doorway. I scour my mind trying to remember when he got here. I feel like I should know. That I should be able to pull the fact out from the flurry of pain-encased thoughts torpedoing around my mind.

“Hello, Dr. Smith,” I greet, lids drooping with exhaustion. “When did you show up?”

I can’t read his expression, though his lips straighten into a flat line.

“Is Dr. Todd in the study?” I ask before clearing my raw throat and scrubbing tears from my eyes. “I’m not feeling well and could really use more treatment.”