Page 65 of Taming His Vampire Mate
My head lolled to the side, eyes shutting. I couldn’t look at him or I’d start blubbering. Or screaming incoherently. Maybe forever. And Thierry was the last person on earth who’d have the patience for that, once he saw how I was really feeling.
I forced myself awake by sheer will.
The dreamscape shattered, and I bolted upright in my borrowed bed.
I let out a gasping shudder, the air too cold, too thin.
My stomach twisted hard.
I launched out of bed, barely making it to the bathroom before I vomited. I retched until nothing came up but bile.
I hadn’t seen it before.
I hadn’t known.
The dreamscape—which is perhaps an extension of the Otherworld, though no one’s proved it—isn’t quite sentient. But it’s not insentient either. It’s a crawlspace realm between worlds, made of the unconscious thoughts and memories of every being, living and dead, across time. If it had a sort of intelligence, it was the sum of all its parts.
And because those parts came from everyone who had ever lived, I didn’t doubt what I’d seen. I’d almost certainly just witnessed the memories of both Ian and the monster that killed him.
But why show me now?
It was years later. There was nothing I could do to change it. Ian was gone.
So why torture me with the truth? Why show me how alone he’d been? Was it a punishment of sorts? After meeting Thierry, I had almost forgotten there was a ragged Ian-shaped hole in me.
He had been so brave, even right up to the end.
But bravery had gotten him killed.
And I hadn’t been there.
I vomited again.
I might have stayed there until daybreak, but the front door crashed open.
A heartbeat later, Thierry was at my side.
“Jeremy, you asshole,” he hissed. “You scared the shit out of me.”
I looked up, and whatever he saw wiped the anger clean from his face.
“Oh. Right,” he breathed, blinking as he processed the scene. His brows drew together. “You knew him, I’m assuming.”
I nodded, unable to trust my voice.
Humiliation burned through me when hot tears slid down my cheeks. I turned away sharply.
A man like Thierry would expect his mate to protect him. To be strong.
But I wasn’t strong, was I? I was broken. I had been for a long time. I had just forgotten it for a while.
Thierry rose without a word.
“Right,” he muttered, leaving the bathroom.
Of course he left. Why would he stay?
My eyes shut. I didn’t move. If I did, I’d split down the middle. I had loved Ian. I had loved him so much.
