Page 55 of The Vampire's Thirst
“Are you dismissing my more-than-ample charms?”
Fin snorted, hugging the blanket tighter when Thorn crawled onto the sofa and resettled her into his arms. “No. I am aware of your charms, but there’s more. Talk, wolfie.”
“You’re my mate, darlin’.” Thorn’s muscles stiffened as if prepared for disbelief or peals of laughter.
She giggled as the hot chocolate sloshed in the cup. “Your mate?”
“Yep. Shifters are close to their beasts. Wolves more than most. Anyway, my beast wants you. Big time. Knows you’re its mate. And you are attracted to my beast.”
“No doubt, but how can that be?”
“Magical shit just happens with shifters.”
“Hmm. And you’re okay with that? With me?”
“Happier than a free, wild wolf. My animal is designed to bond. And where my beast goes, I follow. In your case, quite willingly. Seeing you, talking to you, making love to you, it all fits. You’re meant for me, Fin. How’s it sit with you?”
She nodded, a dreamy smile curving her lips as she twisted her neck to gaze into his amber eyes. She brushed his errant shaggy hair behind his ears. “I don’t have a beast inside, but I’m drawn to you, too. ‘Drawn’ is too pale of a word. Engrossed. Fascinated. Magnetized. Better.”
Thorn’s lips pressed to hers, hot and promising. Suddenly, he pulled away. “Wait. Why aren’t you scared of me? When you first saw me, you should have gone into shock. I had fur, claws, and huge-ass chompers. Most people wouldn’t take the sight in stride. Hell, the general pop would faint if they spied my wolf.”
Fin leaned her head back onto Thorn’s chest. After a moment, she sighed, leaned forward, and set her cup on the table. “The whole story about my mom, who obviously wasn’t totally crazy, might explain a lot.”
“I’m all ears.”
She tugged on a lobe. “I understand wolves have very big ears.”
“All the better to hear you with, my dear.”
She laughed and began the tale.
“A single mom raised me. She was great. We didn’t have a lot of extra money, but we spent time together. Playgrounds, picnics, movies, stories, playing with dolls and trucks, just talking. She was employed at a big company which I think was connected with the government. At least, as a kid I thought so because everything was very hush-hush.”
“Where did you live?”
“Denver, until I was ten. Then we moved to Chicago. Anyway, she started slipping. Small things at first. Forgetting to shop for groceries. Forgetting how to find our apartment. Not paying bills. Later came the paranoia.”
“What do you mean?” Thorn shifted, getting more comfortable.
“She bought extra locks for the door. Two at the bottom, three in the middle, and one so high I couldn’t reach it without standing on a chair. Mom checked out the windows constantly, looking for something or someone.”
“Did she talk about her fear?”
“Not at first. She said general stuff like ‘They’re coming.’ Some guys showed up one day. In suits. All business. At least, at eighteen that’s how I saw them. They said they were from the Alliance where she worked…”
“Stop.” Thorn stiffened beneath her. “She worked for the Alliance?”
“Yes. They told me they checked her into a private hospital. For her own good. A mental hospital. Apparently, she went all psycho at work. Climbing on her desk. Throwing things. Shouting. They said she grabbed a knife and was cutting herself. The suits told me where she was and how to get in touch. Before the men left, they searched the house, removing notebooks, her computer, a few boxes of other stuff. Afterward, they were gone.”
“You must have been terrified.”
“I wasn’t good. I Googled the mental facility to get some information. It was exclusive and very expensive. I was worried since I didn’t know anything about her insurance. When I called the Alliance office, they said everything was covered. They would take care of her. Part of me was relieved. Another part was confused.”
When Fin shivered, Thorn tugged her closer to wrap his arms tight around her.
“I visited her, but eventually it got hard to do. Some days she was catatonic, unmoving and silent. Other days she was crammed into a corner, shaking, terrified of me. She ranted about demons, vampires, werewolves, witches. You get the drift. Looney tunes.”
Fin twisted to look into Thorn’s amber eyes below his arched brows. “Or so I thought. When I met with the doctors, they talked about late-onset paranoid schizophrenia and a variety of anxiety disorders. The prognosis was not good. Her medical team kept switching medications, looking for the perfect combination. If they couldn’t find a solution, they said Mom would lose complete touch with reality.”
