Because he was Jeremy, he woke up ready to ruin my day.
“What the fuck?” he demanded, immediately sitting up and glaring. “What did you do?”
“I saved your life,” I said, arching an eyebrow. “Most people would say thank you.”
“You fed me your blood.”
“And you loved it,” I sneered, anger flashing at the accusatory note in his voice. “Your body did, at least. My blood healed your wounds quick as you please.”
“I have healing powers of my own.”
“You would have died,” I said flatly.
I tried not to remember those moments right before he swallowed, when I thought I was too late—or worse, that it wouldn’t work.
I’d never healed a werewolf before. If other vampires had, I’d never heard of it. But his wounds had closed at once, just as they would have on a human being. My blood worked on him the same way.
Even now, seeing him alive and well enough to be angry sent relief crashing through me. I should never have let him stay outside with me. It was my fault he’d almost died.
Then Jeremy’s eyebrows drew together, anger draining. He searched my gaze, awe softening his face.
“You—you were worried about me. You were worried I might die.”
It wasn’t a question.
Alarm rocketed through me. I shot out of my chair, stepping back. “No.”
I’d been around far too many fated pairs not to know what this meant.
“I can feel it,” Jeremy said, confirming my worst fears. “And I can hear it, too. Like you’re speaking your thoughts directly to me. You were scared I wasn’t going to make it.”
No. Absolutely not.
But it made sense, didn’t it? Because he was my fated mate, the blood bond had already started to form.
Now I was vulnerable to him in a way I never had been to Magnus. Jeremy could learn what made me tick. He could and would use that knowledge to hurt me. To use me. To control me—
“Thierry, I wouldn’t! And who the hell is Magnus?” Jeremy demanded, expression darkening. “What did hedoto you?”
I stared at him, horror flooding through me.
He’d caught every word.
The blood bond between Ethan and Nathaniel had started this way, with one party hearing the other’s thoughts. It had been the same with Bryan and Tobias. But not with James and Pierce. Or Danny and Michael.
I hadn’t even considered the possibility until after I’d given Jeremy my blood. It had been fifty-fifty odds of this happening. I’d rolled the dice. And lost.
Dismay twisted across Jeremy’s face.
“No, Thierry—”
I didn’t wait for him to finish.
I left the room.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN || JEREMY
There were nearly a dozen vampires and witches gathered in the living room of the elder care home when I stormed out after Thierry.