Page 15 of Fated to the Damned

"Let me help you," I whisper, keeping my voice soft and hands still. "Please."

He simply watches me for a long moment, muscles coiled tight. I hold my breath, unsure if he'll accept my aid or lash out.

Gods only know what this man could do to me if he felt threatened. And right now, he is not looking at me with relief.

He’s looking at me like I’m his prey.

9

NIKOLAI

Iam so thirsty.

It’s the only thought echoing through my pounding head as my senses pick up the smell of a human. The First has blessed me after all.

But as my fangs snap down, my body begging for a mouthful of blood, her voice breaks me out of my trance.

“Let me help you.” Those fierce hazel eyes sweep over me, not holding pity or triumph, but concern. Why should she care? “Please.”

I’m salivating for a taste of her. But now that she’s shoving the fogginess from my brain, the logic part of me is screaming to get away. I’m not in the state to make decisions, and I need to put distance between us.

I need some rest and some fucking blood.

I try to scramble back, but I can’t move. Instead, I let out a long, low groan as pain lances through my body and I feel fresh blood trickle down the shredded skin of my abdomen.

“You’re making it worse.” She still hasn’t come closer, and I see a flicker of fear dance across her features. “I can help.”

But she waits for me to agree to it before she tries to reach for me again. She’s put a little distance between us since replacing my bandage, and I wonder if she doesn’t trust me.

If she sees me like the other spineless vrakken.

That thought is enough to soothe my desire to drink from her. I manage a soft nod, and relief floods her features as she comes closer. I let my head droop back against the cool rock.

“You shouldn’t have flown,” she murmurs as she gets a closer look. “It’s made your wounds worse.”

I grunt in response.

Suddenly, she stands, walking away. I can hear her outside the cave, muttering to something – herself, I suppose – though I can’t make out what she is saying. I wonder if she’s going to come back as time runs together and blackness edges into my vision.

But then her footsteps pull me back to the moment, and when she kneels next to me, I see the leaves of healing plants in one hand and a makeshift bowl of water in the other.

“I’m Jessa, by the way,” she murmurs as she sets both down.

Jessa, I think. What a beautiful name.

She moves slowly, making sure her actions are clear as she inches closer. I force my body to remain still, fingers curled tightly into fists to resist lashing out instinctively.

Gently, she peels away the already soiled bandage around my abdomen she just wrapped there. I can't hold back a grimace as the pressure pulls at torn flesh. But her touch remains light, clearly trying not to cause me more pain.

Her brow furrows in concentration as she cleans the gashes as best she can. The care in her ministrations surprises me. She has no reason to show me such kindness. I search her face for any sign of disgust or lingering fear, but find only compassion.

Once the wounds are wrapped securely with a fresh binding of cloth and leaves, Jessa sits back on her heels, gaze tentatively meeting mine.

"Try not to move too much. You've lost a lot of blood." Her voice is soft but firm.

I give a small nod of acquiescence, taken aback by this human who selflessly aids a monster like myself. Perhaps she possesses a purity of spirit I have not encountered before.

A wary instinct still whispers to me to be alert, but her healing touch eases some of the darkness clouding my mind. For now, I will allow this unexpected respite she provides. My body needs rest to recover, and her presence seems to grant that.

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