Page 41 of Thorn of Sorrow

The mustard.

Why was my mind stuck on the damn mustard? I shut my eyes, took a few calm breaths, yet all that kept surfacing was that annoying mustard.

And fear. Terrifying fear. The “pops” in my head made it hard to concentrate.

Mustard.

Fear.

Sandwich.

Giovanni.

Running like a chicken from him right after we’d made love.

Mustard.

Fear.

Sandw— My eyes snapped open as I clutched my neck. The vampire! He’d sank his fangs into me. Greedily drinking. Then I’d grown cold.

Had I died?

If you died, you wouldn’t be lying here playing “connect the fragmented dots.” You would be dead.

But… there hadn’t been a doubt in my mind I was about to die. How had I gotten away?

And why had I heard a whistle before I blacked out? The noise hadn’t come from the vampire, because he’d had his lips halfway inside my neck.

Feeling like I was in some bizarre dream, I glanced around my room. Then my gaze lowered to my bed. Giovanni seated in one of the wooden chairs from my small dining table. His upper body was sprawled across my bed, his face nestled in his folded arms.

A weight settled in my chest at the sight of him lying there. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he curled around me instead of sleeping in the most uncomfortable position imaginable?

Was he upset that I’d left after we’d had sex? Even if he was, that wouldn’t explain why he was sitting next to my bed like a hospital visitor.

Wait.

Vampires didn’t sleep.

Which meant Giovanni was awake. I had no freaking clue what to think. This was so out of character for him. Reaching out, I brushed my fingers over his hair, noticing how disheveled it appeared.

I jerked my hand away when his head shot up. A gasp escaped me. He was always impeccably groomed whenever I saw him.

But this man? His eyes were bloodshot, puffy, and there were dark circles beneath them. What stunned me the most was a few days’ worth of growth along his jaw. Not once had I ever seen him with facial hair.

Honestly, kinda looked hot on him. The scruff gave him a more rugged appearance.

Tearing my eyes away, my gaze wandered to his hair. Dark strands framed his face, grazing his nape, the natural curls forming in unpredictable waves that softened the otherwise sharp edges of his presence. I’d lost count of how many times I’d wanted to run my fingers through the silky strands.

But it looked as if he’d already done that a million times over. Tufts stuck out everywhere, and what was going on with his clothes? They held more wrinkles than a shar pei.

But none of that compared to the look in his eyes. Something almost pleading sat in his gaze, raw, undone, like a single thread was keeping him from unraveling.

This was Giovanni completely exposed.

We just gazed at each other, but… it was as if he was absorbing every detail of my face for some reason.

My hand patted the bed and he was there, wrapping his strong body around me, simply holding me close.

---