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Jared pursed his lips. “She might. And we can’t force her to stay. But don’t be so quick to assume she’ll be casting blame and packing up her shit. Give her a little more credit, Damien. Like I said before, she’s a logical person. I don’t think you should be so sure you’ll lose her.”
“I never really had her.”
“Because she was human, and that was an obstacle. That obstacle isn’t there anymore.”
The selfish part of me was glad of it, wondered what it could mean for me. God, I was such a fucking asshole. And although Jared could be right in claiming I might be worrying for nothing … “I refuse to get my hopes up.”
“It would hit you hard if those hopes came to nothing, I get it. But don’t lose all hope, that’s all I’m saying.” He glanced back at Lexi, who whimpered as yet another tremor assailed her body. “I’ll bring a donor here once a day. I know you might not like the idea of her feeding from others, but you’ll have to deal with it. Your blood alone won’t get her through this.”
I gave a curt, begrudging nod, knowing he was right.
“Contact me if you need anything,” he added. “We’re all here for you as well as for Lexi.”
Feeling my throat thicken, I nodded again. “Do one thing for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t let Sam get carried away and kill Castor. I want at him too.” More to the point, I wanted to feed the fucker every single one of his own teeth. Then maybe his tongue. Possibly even his own dick.
Jared’s mouth curved. “Consider it done. But you don’t need to worry. She wouldn’t rob you of that pleasure anyway.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
(Lexi)
Good God, I felt. Like. Absolute shit.
Like I had the flu, a hangover, and a migraine all at once. My eyes hurt, my lips were dry, my throat felt shredded, and my head felt like a lead weight. Awesome.
I didn’t need to open my eyes to know that I wasn’t alone. I could smell Damien. Hear every breath that left his lungs. Hear his heart beating steady in his chest. The sound made my stomach clench and my mouth water. Um … okay.
I felt … different. Weird. Alien, even.
Smells were stronger. Sounds were sharper. And I knew if I opened my eyes, colours would be more vivid.
There was a subtle, background pulse in my body and brain. A need for something that was currently satisfied. A need for blood.
Memories flashed through my mind, hazy and fractured. Castor. The rainforest. His teeth in my throat. His blood in my mouth. Pain. God, there’d been so much pain I’d thought I was dying. I’d wanted to die. Wanted it to all end—the agony, the need for sex, the thirst for blood, the urge to hunt. It all had ended, apparently.
And now I was a vampire. Yeah, it didn’t take detective work to figure that out.
There was a rustle of material. Footfalls came my way. The mattress dipped slightly, and then Damien’s scent blanketed me.
“Hey, baby,” he said, his voice low and soft. “Brace yourself before you open your eyes. It might hurt.”
“Feels like someone stabbed them with needles.” The words were hoarse.
“It might be that you’d have preferred that over what really happened. I wouldn’t blame you.”
Oh, he was right to think I was pissed. I’d like to beat Castor to death with his own fucking leg for forcibly Turning me. He’d made sure it hurt when he bit into my throat, he’d made sure I was afraid and he’d damn well gotten off on it. In so ruthlessly ending my human existence, he’d robbed me of the right to choose this life.
But would I have preferred death? No. Having lived at The Hollow for so many months, I’d come to realise that, essentially, vampirism was just another state of being. It wasn’t a form of afterlife. I hadn’t lost my soul, I still had a pulse, I could still eat food, I wouldn’t have to sleep in a coffin, and I wouldn’t burn in the sunlight.
In other words, I was still me. I wasn’t a monster. I wasn’t a thing of nightmares. I was just a new and improved—and somewhat immortal—version of me. Not that all this wasn’t scary or that I’d shake off my anger at Castor any time soon. But I wasn’t going to hate myself or my existence the way he’d hoped. Really and truly speaking, there were worse fates.
I forced my heavy eyelids open. Light stabbed my eyes like white-hot pokers. I hissed out a breath and squeezed my eyes shut. Fuck, he hadn’t been kidding when he said it’d hurt.
His hand rubbed my back. “Shh, keep them closed a little while longer if you need to.” He pressed a soft kiss to both my eyelids, but there was a hesitance in the way he touched me. As if he wasn’t sure his touch would be welcome. Maybe he thought my skin still hurt to the touch. Well, I hadn’t exactly moved toward him, had I?
