“Fine.” Her voice is practically a snarl.
Then, silence falls around me, and for a minute, I think I’ve died and gone to whatever afterlife is waiting for me. But then I taste it—blood. It’s on my tongue and spilling down my throat. The taste is different, somehow, like crisp apples or freshly cut honeydew. I drink and drink, afraid of the fire that will follow knowing what Gray’s blood will do to me. Still, I can’t stop myself.
What’s another drop?
“That’s it,” someone soothes. “Drink, Millie.”
And I do… at least until the darkness wins out and I spin sleepily into endless shadows.
The headache I have is out of control. If I’m honest, it puts all of my past hangover headaches to shame, and I’ve had some pretty nasty benders.
It takes me probably twenty minutes of working myself up to finally crack my eyes open. A pitch black room greets me, though I’m unsure of whose bed I’m actually laying in. When I lean back down, I catch a whiff of must and pine, along with the familiar undertone of lavender from the detergent used to clean the sheets. Realization dawns on me then—I’m in Dax’s room.
What the hell happened?
A door opens, and I turn away from the light.
“You’re up!” Dax exclaims. He sounds relieved.
“Mhm.” I cover my eyes, though, unable to look at him. “Can you just close the door? My head is pounding.”
“Millie?” Jill calls from the doorway. She comes running in, and to my surprise, wraps me in her arms, tackling me back down to the bed.
Jill doesn’t relent or let go. She hugs me the way I hugged my grandma before she boarded her flight to Florida. There’s somuch weight to this embrace that I’m not sure what to do, except to hug her back.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Jill pulls back, and a small light in the corner turns on. The neon glow of a lava lamp lends enough light for me to see them both. They look… tired. Exhausted, actually. The darkness clings to the bags under their eyes in a way that makes me wonder when they last slept.
“You don’t remember?” Jill asks, her tone cautious.
“Remember what?” I see a black mark under her eye and flinch. “Oh, you mean punching you? I’m sorry about that.”
Jill covers her bruised eye with a start. “What? No, not that!”
Dax huffs a laugh as he pulls up the gaming chair from his computer desk and rolls it over to the bed. He has a mug in his hand that I hadn’t noticed before. Steam wafts off the top, and I smell faint notes of cinnamon and pecan. He offers it as he asks, “What’s the last thing you remember?”
I take the cup gratefully and drink it down, even though it’s hot and burns the top of my mouth. All I can think about is how good it tastes and how badly I needed it to make the headache go away.
“I remember… coming to the club early,” I say, thinking back. “You asked me to meet you here. I assumed Jill was with you, so I came over.”
Dax exchanges a quick look of concern with Jill. I take another drink and breathe in the smell of it, warmed by its heat. My memory might not be working at the moment, but at least I know I’ll never forget about coffee.
“I’m guessing we didn’t talk,” I start hesitantly. “Did we?”
Dax doesn’t answer. Instead, Jill places a hand on my shoulder and says, “No. We didn’t talk.”
Memory loss is kicking my ass. “Great, so what does everyone know that I don’t? Does Dax know you’re a witch?”
“He does.” Jill’s shoulders sink and cuts her eyes toward Dax. “He also knows about the vampires, too.”
“Of course.” And how could he not? Jill was bound to tell him everything if it meant my safety was at risk. “Wait, if he knows, then…”
Before either of them can answer me, there’s a loud bang outside of the room. It sounds like a bomb is going off, repeatedly. They look like a couple of startled cats the way they tense up. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they know the cause of it.
“I’ll take care of it,” Dax says, pushing himself to stand.
Jill doesn’t say a word as he leaves the room. I wait, caught between curious and confused. A few seconds later, I hear voices, one frantic and panicked, the other cool and collected. I can’t make out anything solid, but it isn’t long before I can hear every single thing they’re saying. The conversation takes a turn and suddenly they’re both shouting—Dax and his visitor.
