All I can do is relive Aamon’s words over and over again on anendless loop in my mind.
You will not return unless I myself bring you back. And I can promise you, Angel, I won’t. Forget me, forget this place. And get out.
It was the cruelest form of rejection, bringing me back to life. Binding me to him. Just to turn the bond against me and order me to leave once he got what he wanted. When all I want is to be near him, to be cared for and sought after by him. I would give anything to have his dark eyes on me, to have Quinn’s steady hands treading over my skin. To be between them once more.
I close my eyes and let the darkness take me, wallowing in the feel of my burning skin and my empty stomach. Everything hurts too much to face and I’m briefly greeted with the idea that nothingness is better than this pain. So I succumb to it, fading from this plane as I welcome whatever is waiting for me on the other side.
But the relief is short-lived. Sterling is forcing me to feed from him, even as I’m barely aware of his forearm against my lips. Of pierced skin I didn’t bite, ashen blood flowing freely on my tongue. I want to reject it, want to push him away, but my body is too weak. My bloodlust too strong.
So I take his offering greedily, the blood providing its own sort of safe haven from the hells I’ve found myself in. It does little to stave the pain, to heal whatever is broken inside me. I still ache. I still feel hopeless. But this will do, for now.
“Shh.” His voice finds me in this abyss. “Sleep now, Angel. I’ve got you.”
It’s the same thing he said to me my first night with him. He told me to let it all go. That he would catch me. And gods know why, but I believed him then.
And I believe him now. It doesn’t numb the pain, but it does stir something inside me.
Because at least—in spite of all the horrors I’ve seen, the pain I’ve experienced—Sterling is still here, still fighting for me.
My eyes flutter closed again and I let that one, singular good thing carry me into unconsciousness.
When I wake again, it’s dark outside. I blink, trying to get my vision to focus as I take in my surroundings—a cabin of some sorts, with worn, dusty furniture and old rough wood floors. The sofa I’m on is as threadbare as the blanket draped over me, and it falls away easily as I try to sit up, eyes pinched together as my vision struggles to focus.
I sigh with relief when I find Sterling. He’s sitting at a table in an ancient-looking kitchen, staring diligently out the bay window and fidgeting nervously. He doesn’t notice I’m awake. I let him be for several moments,not wanting to disturb his train of thought. I know the moment I open my mouth, he'll start fussing over me. And guilt riddles my gut at the thought of worrying him so.
Sterling stands abruptly as the door to the cabin swings open.
“Where have you been?” Sterling’s voice is clipped, as if he’s trying to contain a wave of emotion.
Zeke trudges in, a shotgun slung over his shoulder. He’s bloody, but judging by the ease with which he’s moving, I don’t think it’s his. “Setting traps,” he answers with a tone of indifference.
Sterling stands there, shell-shocked. “That’s it?” He throws his hands up. “That’s all you have to say?”
“I told you I had a job to do.” He kicks the door closed behind him before stepping up to the table and setting the shotgun down. “We need food if we're going to survive out here. There’s only one source for blood within the WildLands. And traps are the best way to get them to us easily.”
“And what happens when your traps lead those creatures straight back to this cabin?” Sterling is near fuming. But I can tell his anger has more to do with his concern for Zeke than it does anything else. I sit silently on the sofa, taking it all in. Too nervous to say anything.
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Zeke grumbles, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his brow. “I secured a perimeteraround the cabin. This isn’t my first time doing this, Sterling. I kept us alive before. I’ll do it again.”
“We didn’t have her before.” Sterling nods his head towards me, realizing for the first time that I’m awake.
Zeke follows his motion, taking in the sight of me before shaking his head and letting out a low, rough chuckle that expresses anything but amusement. “I know you think she’s something special, Sterling. But I promise you, having her here does not complicate things like you think it does.”
Sterling’s lips form a hard line as he crosses his arms over his chest, staring down Zeke. “I nearly drained you before, while I was recovering. She’s too fresh to consume animal blood. So what the fuck good will your traps do when I’m the only source of blood she can get?”
Zeke pauses at that. “She’s . . . bloodbound? To you?”
Sterling nods, hardening his face. “And it won’t be enough. Not for someone as fresh as her. Not for someone with her ailments. It nearly wasn’t enough for me last time, and I’d been turned for years at that point.”
My face reddens, shame taking over me. I hate being the problem. It seems to follow me everywhere I go. Always being the source of contempt, always the burden.
Zeke pauses again. “What ailments?”
Sterling scoffs, turning and pacing the length of the kitchen. “How are you this thick? She’s been with us forweeksand yet you are so oblivious to everything about her. Did you even give her a chance, like I asked you to? Or didyou just feel the threat of someone else’s attention on me and shut her out?”
“This isn’t about us,” Zeke says through gritted teeth. “None of that matters now. All that matters is survival.”
“I don’t want tosurviveanymore, Zeke! That’s all we’ve ever done. And I’msickof it! I cannot keep living like this. If that’s all it will ever be between us, then I will walk out that door right now, into the WildLands at the mercy of whatever beasts stumble upon me.”
