Page 153 of Veil of Blood and Bone

My next inhale lands as far as my throat and no lower. he air stays lodged along my tongue, tasting faintly of sex, sweat, and panic, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t shove it down into a full breath.

And because of the surprise, because of the stupidity, I unwind myself from Wren. I push Forest’s leg aside and he groans again, reaching in sleep to drag me closer.

Nicholas sighs.. His eyes remain shut, his lips plump and slightly open. No hint of fangs.

I’ve fucked up.

I scramble off the bed until I hit the opposite wall, the dresser rattling.

Sexual attraction is one thing but an all-night fuck fest when my sister is passed out on the couch? When there are things hunting me?

My life changed when these three came knocking on my door. The past is a recurring nightmare, but the choice has to be mine. Doesn’t it?

Otherwise, they’ll wear me down like a pencil, scratched down to a nub, writing out the same horror life after life.

They made the decision to find me, and my weakness turned them into victims.

I enjoy a puzzle like the rest of the world and something about them dared me to give chase. An emotion lurking in their eyes, the weight of more secrets. They poke out one moment and dart away like silverfish in the next.

Go. Go now.

Those two words form from the abyss in my head. In the blank white space between them come wisps of memory of the aftermath of one such coupling centuries ago.

The strangeness of it is uncomfortable. New. From a desert to an oasis in terms of sex and fulfillment, and I’ll hoard that like a camel with water. But this isn’t me.

This is her.

These are the actions of the person I used to be. These men are only here because of her, and the love they felt for her. The soul might be the same, but I’m not.

Whatever I am...

I’ve changed. I had no choice.

My chest tightens, pushing closer to my struggling heart. I stare at the cuddle puddle.

Where is the breathing room to think or to breathe? Where is the space to exist underneath their lust and expectations?

Palms sweaty, I force my bare feet across the floor, hissing at the chill. My clothes are somewhere in a pile of discard.

I nudge Forest’s cloak with my toe and shiver, my arms wrapped over my breasts. They tingle with a combination of use and cold, my nipples pebbled and raw.

My thighs shake as I pull on my yoga pants and hoodie.

None of the men have moved. They rest together, the mattress shrunken and bowed underneath them. The door squeals when I push it open but another frantic glance of assurance over my shoulder shows the same picture.

It’s homey and warm, the three paused in repose, no tolerating or sniping or bleeding each other in shallow cuts with their words.

Throat constricting, I head out into the false cheer of sunlight through the windows.

Audra lifts her head from the kitchen table and blinks to bring me into focus. “I thought you’d need the sleep,” she whispers.

I’m the worst kind of selfish⁠—

I grind my knuckles into my eyes. “What time is it?”

“It’s about eight. You could have rested a little longer.”

Not with the way my stomach has taken to doing the samba like it’s a full-time job.