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Nails on a chalkboard.That’s what the incessant scratching in her ears sounded like, but softer and more methodic. Though that didn’t make it any less grating on her eardrums. Flora blinked her eyes open. Even though the room was darkened, the dim light from the fire blinded her.
“What the hell?” she whispered, fluttering her eyelids to try to get them to adjust.
She recognized the cabin, the soft furs against her legs, but she didn’t know how she’d gotten there. Then there was Draven, he sat beside her scratching a pen to paper.
Scratching.
Fuck, why was it so loud?
The last thing she remembered was being in the cave with Draven and Rieka. The Goddess was telling Draven she needed to be turned and then everything went black and there was nothing. No pain. No memory of any kind. She ceased to exist.
Which meant…
Flora bolted up to a sitting position and lifted her hand first to her teeth, feeling for fangs. Nothing. She let her fingers drift to her neck and the scar that marked her as Draven’s mate. The raised flesh was still there, which brought a tiny bit of relief. A twinge of pain radiated from her chest and when she looked down, she found a faint scar nestled between her breasts that hadn’t been there before.
If she was a vampire, she shouldn’t have a scar. Scars were meant for humans, not monsters.
What happened to me?
“Flora?”
Her head spun, and Draven’s voice sounded both near and far. Muted but loud. Like she was stuck in a fish bowl. The hope in his voice should have settled her but it didn’t. Panic gripped her spine, and she felt like she might vomit.
What happened to me?
“Fuck,” she cried, clenching her eyes shut as pain tore through her temples. She reached up and pressed her hands to them as if it would take away the pain but it didn’t. Images played through on the back of her lids like a horror film. Her at the castle. The King asking her to spy on the other girls. Compelling her to forget. Asking her to steal from his wife. Making her forget. Stealing blood from her wrist. Forget.
Did these moments happen?
“Bubbles?” His words slid over her like honey, sticking to her flesh and leaving a tingle in their wake. “Flora, come back to me.”
“Draven?” she whispered.
Please let his voice be real. She needed his strength. Needed his guidance. Needed him to make sense of what she’d seen. Nothing about it felt right.
He took her hands in his, and though her eyes were still blurred, she launched herself into his arms. “I was his pawn. I think. I don’t know. Why am I seeing these things? Why does it feel like they were real?”
Tears streamed down her face as she buried her face in Draven’s chest, allowing his scent to wrap around her. She was torn between the panic that gripped her and the need to crawl inside him and live in the calm he exuded.
Draven tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back enough so he could search her eyes. “Slow down, Bubbles, I’ve got you. Are you okay? What happened? One minute you were waking up, and the next I’d lost you again.”
His heart thumped wildly and her mouth dropped open at the same time her eyes fell to his bare chest. She could hear his heart, even though her head was no longer pressed against him. She could hear it. He wasn’t as calm as his posture had her believe. He was just as amped up as she was.
Flora flicked her gaze up to his. “I can hear your heart.”
Draven pressed his lips together and nodded. “You’ll get used to it. With time it will lessen, and you’ll be able to filter out sounds better, focusing on what you choose to hear. Flora, what did you mean about being a pawn?”
“I—The King. He made me do things.”
Draven’s grip tightened on her and a low growl rumbled in his chest.
Flora hugged him back, quickly reassuring him. “Not like that, but he compelled me to forget. At least that’s what I think I was seeing. He had me steal things from the queen. Had me spy on the other Culling women.”
“If he did compel you, it’s normal for you to regain those memories once turned. Joseph did too. Not all at once though. His was over the span of a few days.”
Flora’s lower lip quivered as she considered there may be more. It made her stomach roll to think he’d used her, and she’d had no control.
“He drank from me,” she whispered, but it was less of a confession and more astounded disbelief.
