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I don’t know, Flora wanted to say as she rewatched the events of the past, but in that moment, her body wasn’t her own. She moved on autopilot, taking a step forward and then another, not stopping until she reached Sloane. Her hands stretched out in front of her, and she pushed Sloane off the edge of the loft.
There was no mistaking the loud crack of Sloane’s head hitting the barn floor below. When she looked over the edge, Flora’s lips twisted into a sinister smile. Not her own smile—the smile of someone who had completed the King's bidding. One of the mindless pawns who would forget the moment she stepped foot outside the barn.
“Flora?”
His voice beckoned to her; it was everything she needed. Somehow he’d broken through the memory, and she just needed to hold on to him.
Draven.
Her mate.
“Bubbles, come back to me.”
“Help me,” her voice was so weak, so fragile.
The pain and tension behind her eyes decreased, and she fluttered her eyes open to find his emerald depths searching her face.
“Fuck, you scared me. Where did you go, Flora?” His eyes roamed down her body, and she noticed that although she was still naked, she was no longer on the porch. She was wrapped in a plush blanket on Draven’s lap on what must be his couch. “You’re shaking, love.”
Was she?
“Here, don’t say another word. You need to eat, and then you can tell me.”
Flora opened her mouth to protest, but then Draven offered her his wrist, and she was captivated by the throbbing vein before her. While she much preferred burying her head in his neck, she wasn’t going to turn him away based on placement.
Her fangs descended, and the bloodlust that drove her vampiric side reared forward. She dug her nails into his arms as she punctured his flesh with her fangs and the moment his blood touched her tongue, she sank into him, savoring his intoxicating essence.
“Slow down,” Draven urged, tangling his hand in her hair. “And maybe keep the sexy venom to a minimum.”
Flora smiled against him as she pulled his blood and tried to concentrate on her thoughts. Sex was easy to give him, when she was lost in him. But in that moment, the underlying guilt and fear of her memories still ate at her soul and those weren’t thoughts she could allow to taint her venom and affect Draven.
She inhaled his scent from his flesh and tried to focus her thoughts on anything but the image of her killing Sloane.
Draven shuddered beneath her, and she immediately pulled her fangs free and righted herself.
“Flora, I could feel your shame.Your guilt. What the hell did you see?”
Flora shook her head, tears streaming down her face “I killed her,” she mumbled. “It was me. I did this. I was a killer before my father. She’s going to hate me. I killed her.”
Draven tightened his grip around her and tipped her chin up, panic laced his features. “Whoa whoa whoa, Flora, slow down. Killed who? Are you okay? What happened in that pretty little head of yours just now? One minute we were flirting on the porch, and the next I lost you. Your eyes rolled back and shut, and I couldn’t reach you.”
Flora pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I killed her. The King compelled me to kill her, and I did it. I was weak. There was nothing I could do. I killed Sloane.”
“Who’s Sloane?”
“Emery’s sister. It’s a long story, but the point is I killed her.” Every time she spoke the words out loud, they ripped a hole in her chest, but she couldn’t not say them. She needed to say them to make them real and not just a memory she was compelled to forget. “I killed my best friend’s sister.”
“Slow down. Take a deep breath.” His voice held a hint of Alpha’s command and while she should be mad at him, she needed it. Without it, her mind raced and only panted breaths made it past her lips.
“Flora concentrate. In.” He ran his hand up her spine. “And out.” Then dragged it back down. “Keep breathing.”
Flora closed her eyes and focused on his touch. She inhaled his pine and exhaled his calm. Draven was her center, her mate. He would help her fix this.
“There you go,” Draven reassured her. He brushed her hair away from her face and tipped her head back. “Now I need you to listen to me.”
Her eyes widened, and he reminded her to keep breathing, but to hear him.
“The King compelled you. It is not you who did this. It’s him. You were just the weapon. You don’t blame the gun for a murder, but the person who pulled the trigger. You didn’t do this, Flora. He did.”
