Page 294 of Dragon Slayer

She didn’t answer; instead climbed into his lap and looped her arms around his neck, tucked her face into his throat.

Fulk put his arms around her. “What is it, darling?” Words this time, and gentle fingers through her long hair.

“Just me being selfish.”

Not for the first time, he wished he’d been able to convince her to leave with Baskin and his allies. But he pushed aside her hair and cupped the vulnerable curve of her throat with one hand because if she was selfish, he was doubly so, and he was glad she was here with him. “No you’re not.”

She sighed. “Please stop trying to see the best in me. Lily told me about the war – about what’s coming. And I know what they want you to do here, and I’m just…being selfish. Because I want you all to myself. And I want us to go home, and pretend none of this is happening.” When she blinked, he felt dampness on her lashes, tickling over his pulse. “And I just needed five minutes to get my head on straight so I could be strong for you.”

Oh, Anna. He tightened his grip, bundling her in closer. He put his face against her neck in turn, scenting her, wanting that pack comfort. “You’re always strong. You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

She chuckled hollowly. “What did I just say about seeing the best in me?” She pulled back, hands braced on his shoulders, so she could see his face. Fulk knew his smile was half-assed, but didn’t have the energy to make it any better.

“Baby.” She framed his face with her small, cool hands. “I want you to know, in case you go getting any other stupid ideas about me leaving, that I’m with you all the way. Even once–” Her voice hitched. “Even once Vlad binds you to him, and we go to war. I willneverabandon you.”

A low, sad sound rumbled in his chest, and he rested his forehead against hers, until her face became a blur. “I know, love. I know.” He swallowed down a sudden flickering surge of hope, not wanting to give it any credence, not yet. “But I don’t know if I’m meant for Vlad. I think…I think he’s planning something.”

~*~

Mia was tired. Part of it was the good kind of tired: riding, exerting herself…making out feverishly in a tack room. But also the bad kind: panic, fear, dread…and illness.

The massive house was eerily still – everyone down in the basement working on Ramirez, she supposed. She shuddered every time she thought of the gleaming white bone protruding from skin gone pale with shock.

The guards had taken Val back down, and left her alone. Without an escort, with no one watching, she rode up in the elevator and trudged down to her room, fatigue dragging a little more insistently with every step. Someone, hopefully Annabel and not a random staff member, had left a small pile of neatly folded clothes on the dresser in her room, all of it stiff and new; she picked a pair of jeans, a fresh t-shirt, and went to shower.

After, clean, but even sleepier, she flopped down across the bed to stretch out her back – and to think.

Decide. Did she want to become immortal? A vampire? A creature that needed to drink blood to live? Did she deserve to be turned? Was she more deserving than anyone else with a terminal disease? How could she think that she was so special that…

No. It wasn’t about deserving. It was a gift, freely offered. Because Val cared for her. Wanted her.

She closed her eyes and the bed seemed to tilt beneath her; another dizzy spell. Why saveher? He’d been alive almost six-hundred years. Was she just a convenience? Was…

She drifted off on a tide of worry and self-doubt.

When she woke, it was to the sound of a knock at her door, and to the churning of her empty stomach. Evening light slanted, hazy and heavy, across the rug, and the room spun around her. She was going to be sick.

She flailed upright and just barely made it into the bathroom in time to curl over the toilet and bring up a few mouthfuls of watery bile. Her stomach cramped and clenched on nothing, and she dry-heaved, tears stinging her eyes.

“Mia?” her father called from the bedroom, and she wished she’d been able to shut and lock the door.

She flushed, rinsed her mouth, and shuffled back out to find her dad standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed, wringing his hands. Seeing him there compounded her exhaustion. She wanted to sink back down onto the bed and sleep for a full twenty-four hours.

“Your condition is deteriorating,” he said gravely.

“Yeah.”

“Let me show you my lab. Let me walk you through the process. Please, Mia.”

She steadied herself with a hand against the bedpost. “What happened to Sergeant Ramirez?”

He let out a long breath, shoulders slumping. “She’ll make a full recovery.” His voice came out heavy, unhappy.

“She’ll keep her leg?”

“Yes.”

Another wave of nausea struck, and she closed her eyes, waited it out.Decide. When she opened them again, she said, “Alright. Show me.”

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