I sigh, but the tears don’t stop. “I’m sorry. It was a nightmare. I didn’t mean to call you that.”
But I’dbelievedhe was Samuel. I did. For a moment, it’s all I could think. That I’d never really been rescued, and the past weeks had been a cruel trick he played on me to break my mind even more.
Saint stares at me for a few moments, then nods, and stomps toward my bathroom. After a second, I follow him because he left the door open. He’s holding a pair of dull scissors, chopping away at his hair.
Warmth and gratitude spread through me, chasing away the icy terror clinging to me from the nightmare.
“You don’t have to do that?—”
“I want to,” he says. “I never want you to think I’m him again.”
More tears spill over my lashes. “You could never be him.”
“Aurora?” Saint’s voice draws me back to the table, and I blink away the memory. I look around the room, shocked that everyone else has finished eating and left.
“I zoned out again.” It’s easier to admit it to him. He knows how powerful my mind is when it wants to take me away. Something I’m guessing is a survival mechanism I won’t be able to fully shake without intensive therapy. Ajax’s mate, Grace, suggested that to me a few weeks ago, assuring me my spells of disassociation were a normal trauma response. My shoulders drop. At least this memory hadn’t been the worst of them.
He studies my face for a few moments, then his eyes fall to my neck, and he visibly swallows. “The residence’s blood supply has been tainted.”
“Oh?” I shake my head. “That’s awful.” So many awful things happened the past week. The attack Samuel led. The bloodmad vampires he’d snuck into the residence. The horrific screaming. Samuel’s hand around my neck as he dangled me from the roof. Death trying to claim me once again and Saint not allowing it. Valor, Lachlan’s mate and Lyric’s best friend, almost dying and then her transition after. Thankfully, she’s okay, but now this?
“Didn’t the Sons destroy the supply once before?” I ask, trying desperately to remember who told me that. Olivia, I think. “The king had a company that managed the reserve?”
“Onyx Industries,” Saint answers. “They’d built up a three-year reserve in case of emergencies. The Sons destroyed it before we were awakened. Alek had slowly been building it back up as well as restocking the royal reserves here.” He sighs. “Samuel and his people managed to poison both.”
I rub my hand self-consciously over my neck. I hate that I hadn’t been strong enough to fight Samuel off. To put an end to the destruction—the hate and evil—he’s delivered at every turn. If I’d been like Olivia, the princess’s bodyguard, or like Talia, Zachariah’s huntress mate, I would’ve been able to fight. But I’vebeen too busy trying to find the missing pieces of myself to learn how to fight back. That needs to change.
“You fed yesterday,” he continues. “But we’ll have to figure out a new solution for you soon.”
I think about every time I’ve drank blood since arriving at the residence. Saint’s always been there, helping me, altering my mind to make me believe I’m drinking red wine. It’s the only way I could get it down in the beginning.
“Okay, what do I need to do?” I ask, truly wanting to regain some form of control over the spiraling situation.
“We need to find someone you’re comfortable feeding from,” he says.
My fangspulseas if excited by the prospect of being used properly for once. Instincts clash and swarm inside me. Images of sinking my fangs into someone’s neck and drinking their warm blood…of not being able to stop drinking—draining them the way Samuel drained me over and over again, within an inch of my life, before restoring me. Panic hits me like a lightning bolt. I refuse to be the monster he wanted me to be.
“I…I…” I don’t know what to say. How can I explain it to him? He’s been successfully feeding for centuries. Sure, he’s told me stories of the line he walked, the insatiable hunger he can never truly slake, but he’s managed.
“Annika already offered,” Saint says, his voice soft, gentle even, as he leans closer over the table between us. “There are human volunteers too. There are people who want to help you.”
A little warmth rushes through the panic, but the thought of biting my friend doesn’t settle well either. My eyes meet Saint’s, searching for answers there like I always do.
He’s the only one I’ve felt comfortable feeding around. He’s the only one who’s ever seen every broken part of me and not looked at me with pity. The one who, time and time again, has never given up on me, no matter how many times I’ve asked himto. It’s always been him I turn to, run toward, whether I’m scared or confused or questioning my existence.
It’s always been him.
“You,” I finally say as the only possible answer presents itself. “The only person I’ll ever feel comfortable feeding from isyou.”
CHAPTER 3
Saint
“You’re pacing again,” Dagon says from where he sits at the table in what has been deemed the snack room. He’s already had three muffins in the time it’s taken me to recap what happened earlier.
“Did you hear what I said?” I stop pacing, glaring down at him.
He takes another bite of his fourth muffin, chewing it with a shit-eating grin on his face.
