I’ll haunt you even when you try to die.
My tattoos chew as I swipe at my chest, snagging the length of leather hanging around my neck.
The muscles beneath my tongue tingle …
No.
Snarling, I shove to a stand, more warmth oozing down my torso. I wobble, slamming against a mossy tree, finding the other side bare.
South.
I lift a heavy boot. Thud it down.
Another step.
Another.
I keep moving, shoving past waxy shrubs, shouldering trees, hand clawing at my chest like it wants to gouge between my ribs and cradle that twinkling seed.
Just get to her …
I just have to get to her.
My stuttering heart slows, breaths staggering. My head goes light and airy, shadows dancing at the edge of my vision.
“Stay awake!” I wheeze past the rotten muck gathering in my lungs. Drowning me a little more with each wet heave.
My limbs grow heavier, and I swear the soil begins to ripple beneath me, making each step less steady than the last. My knees give way, and I hit the ground like a boulder.
A familiar deadly chill slips through my veins, and my head rolls to the side, like the world’s tipping …
“Fuck,” I gurgle as the blackness chomps down.
“You sure you’re okay, petal?”
I nod, offering Cainon a soft smile even as the world tips, using the handle to the door of my suite to stop myself from falling.
Plummeting.
“Of course,” I say, the blazing candelabras swaying.I blink away the haze, trying not to slur. “Go to your meeting. I need time to prepare for the trial tomorrow, anyway.”
“Yes, you do.” He steps close, rumbling in the back of his throat. It’s a teeth-gritted battle not to flinch. Not torecoilas he presses a too-hot kiss upon my head that cleaves off another chunk of my heart.
Crumbles it to the nether.
He smells like fried flesh …
Webothdo.
“Get some sleep,” he instructs as he moves toward the foyer door and swings it wide enough that I see Kolden standing sentry in the hall beyond, his stare firmly setaway.“Tomorrow’s a big day.”
Passing me a hungry smile over his shoulder, he leaves, shutting the door behind himself.
I picture the lid of a coffin settling into place.
Releasing a shuddered exhale, I close my eyes, waiting until his steps fade down the hall before I crumple against the door, folding forward, hand slapped upon the wound on my throat. Cainon’s bite mark—freshly torn.
Freshlyfeastedon.
