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THE EMOTIONAL TURMOIL OFthe past months hit bottom the moment I woke mid-afternoon and felt coldness seep into my body. I scrambled off the bed and knelt on the floor, my fingers curled around Abby’s limp, cold hand.
“Fuck. No.”
I’d taken off for a few hours. Even got in the car and headed for the highway. For the airport. To go home. Drove an hour before I turned around and came back then sat in the car another hour before finally coming inside.
That’s when I crawled into bed and pulled her into my arms. She never woke, and now I knew why.
Nothing in my immortal life could prepare me for this single moment. Shallow, ragged breaths inhaled agonizingly slow then exhaled in long drawn-out crackled sighs. Her eyes remained closed, and my heart skipped a beat at the thought I might never see them again.
“Abbs, don’t give up,” I begged.
Lowering my head, I kissed the back of her cold, lifeless hand. Her pulse beat beneath my touch, but it hesitated and struggled with each thump. “Please.” It was a voice I didn’t recognize, tortured and desperate.
I couldn’t let her die. Not Abbs. Not when she’d made it this far.
But her will to live had slipped through her fingers. No, it was my fingers. It had been my responsibility to give her a reason to live. To fight.
Jesus. How did this happen? How did she become so important?
I lay my forehead on her arm, my grip on her hand tightening, afraid to let go, terrified that if I did, she’d slip from my grasp forever. But she had already. She was dying.
“I know you’re strong, Abbs. You can fight. Fuck, you have to fight this, damn it.” Anger surfaced at her giving up, at myself for being unable to do anything except sit by her bed and watch her die. “For fuck’s sake, don’t you dare give up. Don’t leave me, baby.”
I never thought I’d care about a woman. But Abby was different. Her laughter was genuine and her eyes were filled with spark. She was playful, brave, sexy, and fuckin’ stupid for fucking me. Irresponsible for drinking from Liam. But she didn’t deserve to die for her mistakes.
I jerked my head up when her hand lightly squeezed mine. Her eyelashes fluttered, and then I was looking into her eyes. I inhaled a ragged breath as relief poured over me.
I grabbed the glass of water I’d tried numerous times over the past couple of days to get her to drink, but she refused. “Abbs, drink. You have to drink.”
She ignored the glass of water and instead reached toward me, softly pressing her index finger to my lips. “Damien.” Her eyes closed for a few seconds and my heart beat erratically. “Thank you… for coming back and not… letting me die alone.” Her voice was barely audible, as if it was a struggle to speak. “I…want to die with you…holding me.”
“Christ, baby. You’re not going to die.” I rested my arm above her head on the pillow and stroked her hair with the tips of my fingers. “Ride this out a while longer. I won’t leave you again. It was stupid. I freaked out for a few hours. But you have to drink something.” I held the glass up to her lips, but she turned her head away. “Fuck, baby. Please.” I set the glass of water on the nightstand when she refused to even look at it.
She squeezed my hand. “It was fun, you know. Us.” She stopped to take a deep breath then coughed and blood misted into the air. I grabbed the cloth off the nightstand and wiped away tiny specs that had landed on her chin. “The shower was…” she coughed again and this time a trail of blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth, “hot. Against the window… better.”
“Everyone for miles saw your ass pressed against it,” I said.
She tried to laugh, but it came out a choke instead, and I cursed myself for making her laugh. She closed her eyes and readjusted her grip on my hand. “Don’t let go of my hand, okay?”
“This is not happening.” I shook my head. “Don’t even think about dying.”
A tiny smile came to her lips. “I really like you, you know. You’re… cute when I know you… want to be tough.” Her grip faltered. “It was my fault. This. I thought I could destroy them, but… I didn’t know the bloodlust was so… strong. The baby…” She closed her eyes, head rolling to the side with a long drawn-out sigh. “It’s better… this… way, Damien.”
“Abbs! Abbs. Goddamn it, Abby. Look at me.” I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her once. Twice. Her limp body remained unmoving. I frantically looked at her chest. No movement.
A strangled cry left my throat like a horrid screech of an animal in unbearable pain. I pulled her to me and her head fell back.
“Nooooo! No, Abbs. I won’t let you go.” I kissed the top of her head. “No. I won’t let you go.” I was not going to carry her death on my shoulders for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t survive it.
Her words repeated over and over in my head. A promise I’d refused to give her and this was why.
I gently laid her back on the bed, sweeping her hair back from her face, then reached into my boot and pulled out my blade. With one swift cut, I sliced my wrist just enough for the blood to rise to the surface. I never hesitated before, but I thought about the consequences of what this meant. Abby would live, but as something different, something I hunted and killed.
The blood dripped from my wrist to the bedspread and soaked into the material. My eyes watched as Abby’s lips turned blue and her eyes remained open—lifeless.
“I’m sorry, babe, but I won’t let you go.” I held my wrist over her mouth and a drop of blood slid down my skin, inches from her mouth.
A sudden blast of energy hit me and knocked me away from the bed and into the nightstand. The glass of water went flying and the cheap lamp fell to the floor and shattered.
