Page 22 of Thorn of Sorrow

My gaze met Dane’s, and I saw he was reliving his nightmares too. His blue eyes were glazed, his lips parted. I barely heard Baron’s voice anymore. The edges of my vision dimmed as phantom pain licked at my scars, every nerve in my body anticipating the cold bite of a blade that wasn’t even there.

I felt Dane’s terror like it was my own.

It was my own.

A deafening roar forced me back from the brink. Malachi stalked down the hallway toward us, his wings expanded, the hilt of his sword gripped firmly.

Dane hit the floor when Baron released him. He cried out, cradling his wrist to his chest. That single, pitiful sound caused Malachi’s features to twist in pain for a single breath, revealing the depth of his love for the guy.

Giovanni spun, curling his body around mine, shielding me from whatever Malachi had just done. His warmth surrounded me, his strength pressing in like a long-ago promise to keep me safe.

But I wasn’t naïve this time.

He could bury himself inside of me, wrap me in his arms for eternity, and it still wouldn’t bring back what I’d lost.

The demon hadn’t just carved up my body.

He’d stolen the one thing I couldn’t get back.

My sense of safety.

“If you ever hesitate again, may god have mercy on your soul, brother,” Malachi snarled.

Every muscle in Giovanni’s body tightened. He uncurled from around me and faced Malachi. “I warned you about turning our home into a sanctuary, so don’t you fucking dare pin this on me, brother.”

I spun, my gaze flicking to Dane. He was curled in Malachi’s arm, holding his wrist, the glazed look still in his eyes. He was still trapped in his head, and I knew exactly how he felt.

The past hadn’t fully released me either. I could still feel its claws digging deep inside of me.

But I wasn’t gonna let it break me. For years I’d held it together, sometimes by a fingernail, until my tormentor had returned.

If the brothers were about to get into it, I wasn’t sticking around. Their fights were epic, but so was my migraine. It was amazing how much testosterone vampires had. Their tempers, egos, and superiority complexes were suffocating most times.

Right now, I wasn’t in the mood to choke on it.

My gaze landed on Baron who was lying lifeless on the floor, his throat shredded. I really wished I hadn’t looked.

Pain still pulsed down one leg and around my midsection when I turned and walked away. The limp had gotten worse, but I pushed through it, gritting my teeth while heading down the hallway.

Vampires drank blood to heal. I wasn’t a vampire. Being immortal meant I wouldn’t die from old age or disease, but I would have to heal the human way. I felt trapped between two worlds, caught in the worst of both.

Alone. In my bedroom. Locked away by myself as usual. Not cradled in the arms of someone who looked at me like they couldn’t breathe a second without me.

The pain grew worse as I walked, cursing that Dane had slid so far away.

By the time I made it to my door, my leg was ready to give out. I ground my teeth and let myself in. Just before the door closed, it swung inward toward me, then swerved back the other way, clicking shut.

Despite not seeing anyone enter my room, I’d lived here too long and knew better. “I don’t recall inviting you in, Giovanni.”

A quick glance over my shoulder revealed an empty room. Doors didn’t just open or close on their own.

“I’m not in the mood to play games,” I said to the empty space in front of me. Vampires couldn’t turn invisible, but they could hide in the shadows.

Just like Baron had.

Giovanni’s approach was felt more than heard. The faint disturbance of air was the only sign he was there.

“You’re hurt.” His voice felt like a caress, grazing places words weren’t supposed to reach.

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