You’re someone’s favorite food.
ALISTAIR
I grip the headboard to give my hands something to do.
Fire scalds my throat, and my fangs throb. I’m anxious and thirsty. So thirsty. My mouth is somehow too wet and too dry, and if I close my eyes, I can still taste Celine’s blood on my tongue. I almost dropped to my knees and licked the tile like a starving dog.
Because that’s exactly what I am, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
The door closes, the snick of the latch bashing my eardrums. I shake my head to clear the ringing.
I want it. I need it. Her blood. It’s here—no,she’shere. But her blood calls to me; I can hear it pumping through her veins.
It would taste good.
Everything would stop hurting.
If I took a little... things couldn’t get any worse, right?
Luca is too weak to stop me right now, and Celine wouldn’t expect it?—
Horror eclipses my hunger. My fingertips turn brittle and cold.
I’m losing it. Gods, I’m dangerous to them.
My heart throbs against my ribs, desperate to escape this cursed body. I don’t blame it. I’m a bloody monster. A starving, bloody monster. And I’m terrified.
“What’s wrong?” Luca asks.
His hand hovers over my back. I feel the heat and wait for the pressure of his touch, but it never comes. Loneliness and rejection join my thirst. Together, they gnaw me to the bone like a ravenous pack of wolves.
“Nothing,” I say.
Celine clears her throat. “Don’t lie to him, Alistair.”
“I didn’t?—”
“Watch it,” she warns.
In this moment, I hate her magic with every fiber of my being. The truth isn’t always needed; some things should remain private. I don’t want to crack myself open for their inspection—especially while I’m trapped here by the sun, longing only to fuck, drink, fuck, repeat until none of us can stand.
“I don’t know,” I seethe, spinning to face them. “Is that what you want to hear? I’m fucked all the way up, and every swallow is agony. What I do know is that it doesn’t concern either of you!”
My mortifying explosion is met with complete silence.
Luca sits heavily on the bed, the box spring whining under his weight. “I can only speak for myself, Ali, but I’m concerned,” he says, running his fingers through his messy hair.
“I’m not trying to violate your privacy,” Celine whispers. Her face is free of expression, but her wingtips drag on the floor.
I’m pushing her further away.
Since the moment I cut holes in my T-shirt for her wings, I’vedone everything wrong. I might as well have cut those holes in myself—it hurts the same.
We’re out of sync, our trust is strained, yet I want her more than my next breath.
My curiosity and the mortifyingly consistent aloneness that drove me to pursue her and Luca might get me killed. And the joke will be on me, because I’m still fucking alone.
“We can talk about something else,” Luca says, dropping sideways against the mattress. He cuts his eyes to Celine and raises one eyebrow. “Like how you tossed the plan out the window—along with your whole body—and launched truth beams or something at those dicks. What the fuck was that, baby?”
