Page 57 of Bleed

I set my glass aside. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

I meet her eyes, a grin tugging at my mouth. “For reminding me who I am.”

She smiles back, leaning in to toss an arm over my shoulders and pull me closer. “I love you.”

And just like that, the weight I’ve been carrying all week feels a little lighter.

“Love you too, bitch,” I chuckle, smacking a kiss on her cheek.

Chapter

Thirteen

I’m off the hook for working in the lab tonight, but it hardly matters since I’m not out enjoying my freedom from the shackles of science.

I’ve spent the last three hours holed up in my room, the warm glow from the little lamp on my nightstand providing just enough ambiance to feel cozy. My bedroom’s now fully transformed from professionally staged sterility to actually lived in– my clothes have invaded the chair and the end of the bed, a handful of sketches are taped to the walls, and the top of the dresser is cluttered with cosmetics. I’ve clearly become comfortable here, but the silence still presses in whenever I forget to fill it with background noise.

The only proof I’m not actually alone here is the sound of Elliott moving around.

I heard him come downstairs earlier. Heard the refrigerator open while he made his usual blood cocktail. Then I listened to him wander around doing god knows what for the better part of an hour. At one point, I’m almost positive I heard him come down the hallway toward my room.

He never knocked.

Never said anything.

And I haven’t heard his footsteps in a while, so if he was lingering outside my door before, he’s long gone now.

I flop onto my stomach across the bed, my wrist flicking as I shade in the latest drawing in my sketchbook. Art is usually cathartic for me, but tonight, it’s not scratching the itch I need it to.

Probably because I can only seem to draw him.

Right now, it’s his eyes. The furrow of his brow, the look in them as he stared James down across the dinner table.

I don’t know why I keep fixating on that moment; why my brain insists on replaying it over and over. But no matter how many times I attempt to start something new, I keep ending up here, staring down at yet another sketch of the elusive Elliott Faulkner.

Eventually, hunger outweighs the urge to sulk, and I drag myself out of bed and into the hall. I creep toward the kitchen, pausing to listen for any sign of my vampire roommate, but when I emerge into the main living space, he’s nowhere in sight.

The city sprawls beyond the wall of windows, lit up like a party I wasn’t invited to. I stare out at it for a moment, thousands of glittering lights blinking back at me tauntingly. Then I heave a sigh, pivoting for the kitchen.

I’m halfway to the fridge when a metallic clank cuts through the silence.

My entire body jerks at the sound, my hand flying to my chest as my pulse kicks. There’s another clank, and I turn toward the opposite hallway, realizing the sound is coming from the home gym.

I try my best to ignore it, continuing toward the fridge as the clanking persists. Then I hear a low grunt, and suddenly my hunger’s got nothing on my curiosity.

I drift down the hall in the direction of the sound, tiptoeing even though there’s no logical reason to sneak around. The gym door stands partially open, and I peek inside, instantly forgetting how to breathe.

Elliott’s in the midst of a set on the weight bench.

Shirtless.

Sweat glistens across broad shoulders and chest, all hard lines and brutal symmetry. Every movement pulls muscle tight beneath olive skin as he lowers a heavily loaded barbell to his chest before pressing it skyward again with infuriating ease.

I’ve always known he was built.

It’s harder to ignore when he’s half naked.