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“Please,a stor. I need to come inside.”
I could make out his footsteps as he moved away from the door and went to the window. My heart was a restless bird in its cage, fluttering against my ribs, begging me to put a stop to this. To keep him safe.
“Feck. Sunday, please.” He was desperate now. Pleading. I’d never heard him this vulnerable. Caleb was the strong one. My port in the storm. And I was his siren. But right now he was destroying me every bit as much as I was him.
I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a whimper as I dropped my head and gripped my hair at the root, tugging to help me focus on the pain in my scalp rather than the ache his pleas shot through me.
“Don’t do this,a stor. You don’t want me to die. Not even with how much you hate me now.”
A tear slid down my cheek as I glanced up at the clock, at the second hand slowly moving.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
It wouldn’t be long now. It would be terrible and I’d never get over this, but I had to be brave.
“Please, darling. I’m at the door. Let me in.”
I was crying openly now. Hating myself and him and God—especially God—for putting us in this situation. When I’d been the one begging, he hadn’t budged. Still, I couldn’t keep myself from straightening and tentatively walking toward the door. Reaching it, I pressed my palm flat against the wood, wishing it was him instead.
You’re doing it for baby Emilia, I reminded myself.So that she has a chance to live and be free.But even that excuse was falling flat. How was this any different from what Caleb was doing? I couldn’t sink to his level. I couldn’t be the monster in this story. There had to be a different way. One that would save us all.
The soft slide of his form down the front door was like a nail in my heart. But then he whispered an almost prayerful, “Sunday.”
I couldn’t do it.
A sob stuck in my throat, my stomach churning with guilt and grief and fear I was too late. I lifted the barricade from the door and threw back the lock. He fell inside the instant I opened it, skin an angry red, smoke rising from his too-still form in ominous curls.
“Caleb?”
He shuddered, and instant relief washed over me. “Shut... the fecking... door,” he rasped.
I grasped him beneath his shoulders and dragged him back, pulling an agonized groan from him as he slid against the hardwood floor. Then I jumped up as quickly as my pregnant form allowed and slammed the door closed, locking it again for good measure. As if that could somehow undo the damage I’d helped to cause.
“Caleb...”
“You... tried... to kill...” His labored words were barely audible, his body going limp as his eyes rolled back in his head.
Oh, God. Was I too late? He should be healing, shouldn’t he? Dropping to my knees beside him and his still smoldering clothes, I gingerly touched his shoulder, one unmarred spot on an otherwise burned exterior. I hated the sight of the deep burns covering him where his shirt had already caught fire before I opened the door.
“Why aren’t you healing? You should be getting better.”
His lips moved, but no sound came out. I leaned close, resting my ear above his mouth, only just catching his thready, “Forgive me.”
Those two words unraveled the last of any resentment buried inside of me. This wasmyCaleb.
I knew what he needed. I’d given it to him before when he’d hovered on the brink of death. Blood.
Instead of wasting time to go grab a knife, I called on my wolf and shifted as much as my pregnancy allowed. My nails sharpened into claws.
“For once in your damn life, don’t you dare argue.”
Then I slid the deadly tip of my claw along the mark he’d given me, barely feeling the pain as blood welled to the surface.
“Drink, Caleb. Drink and live. For me. You have to live.”
