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Charlotte repeated her trick, prying off the keypad and jamming in the dagger until sparks flew.
The lock disengaged with a thunk and the door swung open. She really hoped this wasn’t a mistake.
Draven
The Aerie
Laboratory
That aroma, the tantalizing sweetness of it. Close. A drop on his lips. He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip.
Yes. This. It was what he had been missing. What he needed.
More.
He lurched forward, fangs fully descended. Charlotte was bleeding. She had been injured. He had to protect her.
“Charlotte—” Her name was nearly incoherent through his mouthful of teeth.
“I’m here.”
A relieved, choking noise tore its way from his throat and he slumped against the wall. She was there, and she did not sound distressed. They were safe for the time being.
“You’re awake,” she said.
His eyes stung as he opened them. Charlotte’s figure swam into view. She kneeled beside him, holding a silver dagger.
Ah. So that was how it was to be. He turned his head, resigned to his fate. Everything hurt. He had no strength left to fight.
“If you do it now, sweetness, you’ll actually kill me,” he said.
“Quite the opposite. Now, you need to drink.” She raised the dagger to her wrist.
If she cut herself, offered her life’s essence to him, he would drink. He wouldn’t be able to stop. He’d drain every drop of her and leave a husk. And then he would be alone again. There was no point to his long and near-immortal existence without her.
It took all his strength to place his hand on hers. “I feared I’d never see you again,” he said.
Her bottom lip quivered with emotion. “I hate that my last words to you were unkind.”
“You were honest. I was a bastard.” Two centuries of existence summed up in four words.
“I do care for you, Draven. I need you to know that before you send me away,” she said.
Care. Not love. He noticed the word choice. Regardless, it was more than he deserved.
“If you think I’m letting you leave, you’re wrong in so many ways. I would never send you away,” he said.
Charlotte made a strangled noise, half-sob, half-laughter. “You said we had something to discuss.”
“Are we in my laboratory?” he asked, dodging her obvious question.
Focus on the problem at hand. He was badly hurt, worse than he had been in a long time. He needed to assess the situation, patch himself up, and end that traitor.
“I’m not sure. The door wasn’t locked. It looks like this room is used for storage. There’s electronic equipment and there seem to be plenty of supplies.”
Good. He knew the room. It was an overflow space where he stashed broken equipment and extra supplies.
“Bring me a bowl of water, a clean cloth, and a medical kit. It’s white with a red cross,” he said. Charlotte followed his instructions, returning with a white box. Hopefully, the kit would have what he needed to stitch himself back together. There’d be clean bandages at least.
