Page 111 of This Blood That Binds Us
“Hmm.” I closed my eyes for a second and reopened them.
William was watching my face closely, but his face was devoid of anger, expressing sympathy.
“You made it easy for me, though...Without you, none of this would be possible. I’m sure your brothers will come after you.”
“Exactly like you planned.” I groaned.
His words hit deep in my chest, only adding to my physical pain. My heart leaped into my throat. A strange but familiar sensation bubbled into my stomach. Of all my fuck-ups, this was my worst. There was a lot I should have done differently, and I couldn’t change it.
He motioned to Kimberly. “You are a lucky kid, though. I’ve seen thirsty vampires rip off limbs and break bones of humans when they lose control. They kill their own husbands, wives...children.”
My body lurched forward, and my chest wouldn’t stop heaving. Another wave of pain hit me, and I leaned forward, resting my body in my lap. The nausea was back with a vengeance.
“Is this normal for ya?” William was beside me with a hand on my back.
I shuddered between the muscle spasms. “When I was a kid...I used to—to throw up, when I was stressed.” I groaned, bringing my arms close to my body. “Vampire me”—I lurched forward again, feeling the burning muscles in my chest—“hasn’t gotten the...memo.”
I used my hand to cover my mouth and braced for the next round of nausea.
“Just relax. Here, lay back.” William gently helped me move my head to the back of the chair.
I didn’t have any choice but to receive his help. My body was spent, and my eyelids kept drooping. A soft brace supported my head as he placed a plump white pillow underneath my head.
“W-Why?” I closed my eyes, unable to keep them open for a second longer.
“Well, I can’t have you dying before your brothers get here.” He laughed, grabbed my arms, and placed another pillow on my lap. “Now, just rest for a minute. Stop talking and just rest.”
Every second, the spasms in my chest lessened, and the nausea faded.
“I’m tired,” I whispered.
The soft sounds of rain hitting the rooftop was the loudest thing in my ears. I tuned into the soft symphony. I didn’t have any other choice.
“Then, sleep.” William’s voice was far away as I drifted off, and for the first time in a long time, I slept.
My eyes opened, and the fog cleared. It took me a few minutes to get my bearings and assess where I was. My wrist was wrapped in gauze and tape, and to my surprise, I no longer felt any pain.
None of it mattered when I saw Aaron draped over a wooden chair with black blood staining his shirt like dark pools of ink. Droplets littered the floor around him and stained the ornate fabric he was sitting on.
I leaped to my feet. “Aaron! Aaron. . . Please wake up. Please.”
His eyes were shut, his body completely motionless. My heart kicked my ribs, and I put my head to his chest, checking for a heartbeat. I couldn’t hear anything other than the blood throbbing in my own skull.
“Wake up. I need you to get up.” I wrapped my hands around his arms, shaking him.
We were in an empty, windowless room with dusty wooden floors and stone walls painted in thick gobs of white paint. The room was large enough to be a decent size bedroom, with nothing to signal in what type of building we were. Thunder cracked overhead, and the faintest taste of salt lingered on my lips. We were by the coast, if I had to guess.
Aaron’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked before focusing on my face. For the first time, I felt like I could take a full breath. I kneeled at face-level, taking his blood-soaked hand.
“Aaron! Oh, thank god. You’re awake. I was so worried.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” His tone wasn’t convincing, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. He looked to be glued to his chair. Every movement of muscle didn’t move him an inch. “Ah!”
Aaron’s cries brought a lump in my throat. I fought back the threatening tears. Things weren’t looking good for him. Even if I had any idea what was going on or how to get help, no help was coming.
“You’re bleeding.” I touched his shirt close to his neck, where a bite mark was still wet with fresh blood. I didn’t have to guess who did it.
“Oh, that? Just a scratch.” He tried to straighten himself but any attempt to move was futile.
