Page 12 of Blood Bound

How could I possibly start from the beginning? The whole story is completely unbelievable, from beginning to end. And that’s saying a lot, considering we’re a gathering of supernatural beings.

I try to gather my thoughts, but every time I look at Darick, my concentration shatters. How can he be here? How can he act so calm?

As I struggle to find words, I notice movement from the corner of my eye. Lucien Marlowe leans back in his chair, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. His icy eyes are fixed on me, gleaming with keen interest.

My skin crawls under his scrutiny. There’s something toxic in his gaze, something that makes me want to run and hide. But I can’t. I have to explain. I have to make them understand.

“I…we…” I stammer. “There was a fight.” Fight? Hardly a fight, Rowan! I thought…I thought I’d…”

The words stick in my throat. How can I admit to killing Darick when he’s sitting right there? How can I explain something I don’t even understand myself?

I feel my panic rising. The room seems to shrink around me, the air growing thick and suffocating. My heartbeat thunders in my ears, drowning out the sounds of confusion from both witches and vampires.

I can’t do this.

I can’t seem to find air, my throat constricting, my thoughts scattering.

I. Can’t. Do. This!

Without conscious thought, I push back from the table. My chair topples backward, landing on the thick rug with a thud.

“I- I…I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I can’t… I have to…”

And then I’m running. I bolt for the door, ignoring the gasps and exclamations behind me. I don’t look back, don’t stop to see their reactions. I just run, desperate to escape the suffocating pressure and confusion.

As the door slams shut behind me, I hear the room erupt into a jumble of raised voices. But I just keep running, my only thought to get as far away as possible.

I burst through the hotel’s emergency exit, gasping for air. The alarm blares behind me, but I don’t care. My feet carry me down the stairs to the sidewalk, my mind in turmoil.

Darick’s alive. He’s alive.

How? How is this possible? I saw him turn to ash. I felt the heat of the flames. I cleaned up the remains, for crying out loud!

I duck into an alley, my legs shaking. My back hits the brick wall, and I slide down, hugging my knees to my chest. The rough texture of the bricks grounds me, reminding me this is real. This is happening.

If Darick’s alive, what does that mean? For me? For Mia?

Oh God…Mia!

The photo on his phone. Was it real? Is she really out there, held captive by vampires? Or was it all some sick game?

It was real, dammit!

My head is filled with possibilities, each more confusing than the last. If Darick faked his death, what else has he lied about? Our connection, our moments together – were they all just part of some elaborate scheme?

And what about Mia? Is she really alive? Is there still hope of finding her?

I drop my head to my knees and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the world. But the questions keep coming, relentless and overwhelming.

What have I gotten myself into?

I hear footsteps approaching, the sound echoing off the brick walls of the alley. My heart leaps into my throat, and I lift my head, half-hoping it’s Kara or Gran coming to check on me.

But it’s not.

Darick stands at the mouth of the alley, towering against the streetlights. His icy eyes lock onto mine, and I feel that familiar pull, even as my mind screams at me to run.

I scramble to my feet, pressing my back against the wall. My legs are wobbly, and I’m not sure if I could run even if I wanted to. Darick takes a step closer, his movements fluid and menacing. I can’t read his expression in the dim light, and that terrifies me more than anything.

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