“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it,” I grumble.
She finally turns to me. “It’s fine. I get bored drinking water all the time. This is something new.”
I look at her for a moment. “How long have you been sober now?”
She answers without hesitation. “A few years now.”
“It doesn’t bother you that I suddenly ask?”
She looks at me incredulously. “Why would it?”
I shrug. “It’s a heavy subject for most people.”
“Not for me, though. But I think if I was still an addict, I would get upset about it. I knew what I did was awful and shameful and would want to hide it.”
I slowly nod. Does Alessandro think the same? Can he be like Erin one day?
“Do you ever get cravings for it? Even sometimes?”
She sits back on the couch and looks up at the high ceiling. “I wouldn’t say so. I mean, there’s always that little whisper in the back of my mind. I’d hear it say, “Just one more time.” I now know those are just intrusive thoughts. Like when you have an urge to crash your car into a wall when you’re driving?”
I blink a couple of times. What dark thoughts made from a woman like her. I don’t even know if dragons have those types of thoughts. Witches, perhaps, given their “quirky” nature.
I change the subject. “I’m assuming you feel better at least? You were quiet the whole ride here.”
Her bright features darken again. I curse at myself. Tears well up and she moves farther away from me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
She vigorously wipes her eyes. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just forgot about her for a moment. Here I am drinking watered down coffee while Maria’s in the hospital. I don’t know if she’ll be alive next time I see her and I just simply forgot about her. ”
I ignore the coffee comment. Erin’s sobbing in her palms. She tries to hide the noise by holding her breath. I grab her hand instinctively.
“Don’t do that. You’ll faint.”
She sniffles a couple of times. She takes back her hand and holds it against her chest. She takes in a few deep breaths.
“I’m tired,” she says.
“I’ll take you to your room then,” I mutter.
“Thank you.”
She lets me hold her again. This time, her body’s closer to mine. She squeezes my hand.
I take her to her room and bid her goodnight. Not another word from either of us. I’d be an asshole if I complain. Erin took hit after hit, and she’s here as a hostage. It eats me up.
She cries over Maria’s situation. Yet, she’s here because I made her. I need to have her here. I’ll lock her in here if I have to.
There are many shifters and addicts that can be saved if she cooperates. If Erin can stop being stubborn and tell me the information I want. If I force her, though, we’ll get nowhere.
Begrudgingly, I return to my own room. I lay down on the bed with my arms behind my head. My eyes close, ready for sleep to take over. Then, there’s a knock on my door.
Erin comes in. I sit upright. Why is she here? Why am I freaking out?
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Sheepishly, she responds. “I’m sorry. I can’t stop thinking about Maria.”