Page 49 of Blood Caged

Fool, I silently scold my rebellious body.

“Are you ready?” Soren asks.

“Oh, absolutely. I just love being a bloodsucker’s sippy cup. Lead on and make my day,” the words bubble out, dripping with sarcasm.

I watch him closely, searching for any reaction to my biting words. Part of me wants to see him flinch, to show some sign that my barbs hit home. They don’t. There’s nothing.

I force myself to walk tall as we leave my cell, refusing to show any weakness. But with every step, I’m acutely aware of Soren beside me.

I can’t help but notice the fluid grace of his movements. He doesn’t just walk; he glides, each step silent and precise. It’s mesmerizing and infuriating all at once. I catch a whiff of his scent – that subtle, woodsy fragrance that makes my stupid heart skip a beat.

My mind flashes back to our last encounter in the medical room. The softness of his touch as he prepared my arm. The intensity in his eyes when they locked with mine. The strange tension that filled the air between us.

The memory clings to me, heightening my nervous anticipation with each step we take. My palms are sweating, and I clench my fists to hide it.

“You seem tense,” Soren says.

I scoff, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead. “Gee, I wonder why. It’s not like I’m being led to have my blood forcibly taken or anything.”

He doesn’t respond. I steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye, catching the slight tightening of his jaw. Is he affected by this, too? Or am I just imagining things, desperate for any sign that he sees me as more than just a blood source?

We round a corner, and the medical room comes into view. My steps falter for just a moment.

“It’s going to be okay.” His hand brushes my arm, and I find myself shivering. I glance away as he opens the door and pushes it open, then guides me in.

I watch as Soren moves around the medical room, gathering supplies and preparing the equipment. It’s mesmerizing, makes me uncomfortable, but not for reasons that make sense to me.

He pulls on a pair of latex gloves with a soft snap, and I flinch slightly at the sound. Soren pauses, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. Is that concern I see there?

“Are you alright?” he asks.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to nod. “Just peachy. Love being a pincushion.”

He doesn’t rise to my sarcasm, instead turning back to his preparations. I watch as he carefully swabs the crook of my arm with an alcohol wipe, his touch impossibly light. His hands strong and sure. The coolness of the alcohol makes me shiver, or maybe it’s his proximity. I can’t be sure anymore.

Why is he being so gentle?

It’s a game, Mia. It’s all just a game.

The thought nags at me as Soren readies the needle. I’ve been through this before with other vampires who treated me like an object. But Soren… He’s different. The care he’s taking, the almost tender way he handles me – it’s throwing me off balance.

“This may sting a little,” he warns, positioning the needle.

I brace myself for the sharp pain, but when it comes, it’s barely more than a pinch. I blink in surprise, looking down at where the needle has smoothly entered my vein.

“Better than the last time I did it?” he asks.

I nod mutely, unable to find words. This feeling…it’s dangerous. It makes me want to let my guard down, to trust him. And I can’t afford to do that. Not here. Not with him.

“I’ve been practicing.” He smiles, looking down as he attaches a tube to the needle.

“You have?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “How?” I pull a face. “Wait, let me guess. All the other witches.”

“No. I used an orange.” He’s attached the tube to a bag, and it’s beginning to fill with dark red liquid. I try not to look at it.

“Anorange?” My surprise ratchets up a notch. “Why would you practice on an orange?”

“That’s what it said on Google.” There isn’t even a hint of humor in his voice.

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