Page 104 of Fanged Embrace
Wishful thinking, my brain whispered. I shut my eyes.
Eventually, River’s hand stilled on my head. “Laurie,” she murmured, and I felt her heavy inhale against my cheek, “what are you planning?”
My pulse skipped, but I kept my eyes closed. I forced my mind closed too. “What do you mean?”
“Laurie.” River threaded a lock of hair behind my ear, stroked her fingers over the puncture wounds on my throat. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing.” It was hard to lie to her, but I forced the words out all the same. “Nothing… yet.”
River sighed and I heard the skepticism in it, the quiet ache. Her fingers resumed their gentle petting, carding through my hair. “I want to believe you.”
I finally forced myself to look up, meeting her wide-eyed, searching gaze. I summoned every ounce of sincerity I could manage, even though it twisted like a knife in my chest.
“Really,” I said, praying my voice didn’t crack. It came out rasping and strained. “I’m not going to do anything stupid. I won’t vanish into the night.” The lie tasted like ash on my tongue. “I promise.”
River studied me for another long moment—vampire senses probably detecting every erratic beat of my heart. But she only nodded, tugging me higher to bury her head in my neck, lips pressing gently to the mark she’d left on me. The scar I would cherish forever.
“Okay.”
Later, while River drowsed heavily against my shoulder, I stared at the ceiling and contemplated my next—possibly final—move. The fire had dimmed in the grate, slowing from a crackling roar to a few simmering embers. The room grew cold, frosty, pushing up goosebumps on my cooling skin.
River had kept her eyes open for as long as she possibly could. I knew she’d been hoping I’d pass out before her. I knew she wouldn’t let herself rest until she knew that I was too. But she was exhausted, I had seen it. The fatigue was obvious in every slight droop of her eyelids. Eventually, uneasy and against her own will, she’d drifted off.
I remained wide awake, staring down the forked highway laid out in front of me. I had a lot to think about. I had a choice to make.
The letter from the organization had revealed a lot, probably more than they had intended. The note was polite, matter-of-fact. They’d used my name, not my facility code. It told me that they wanted to make a good impression, they wanted to prove that I’d be treated better, treated like a person—if I went back to them of my own free will.
It also told me I was important to them. Important enough to play this shady game of cat and mouse. They knew if they took me back by force I’d fight them for the rest of my life. But if they laid out the perfect bait, offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse, I’d come willingly. They were banking on that. Banking on my love for the woman beside me.
So I contemplated my options.
The first one: to stay, and fight. To try to live like River so desperately wanted me to. To try to picture the future I wasn’t sure even she could see. But doing that would mean letting the organization target her coven—target her. I couldn’t allow that. The second option stared me dead in the face. The original plan. Meeting my end at the barrel of a gun.
Both options would leave River wounded.
So I chose the impossible third: protect her, no matter the cost. The letter said come willingly and the coven stays unharmed. If that was a lie, at least I’d be on the inside—I could give the coven the upper hand they needed. And if the letter was sincere, and the organization wanted me, and only me—If they truly intended to leave River alone… well, one last reckless action was worth saving her life.
River murmured in her sleep, arm tightening around me like she could sense my resolve. My throat closed, my heart cracked. I was terrified, but my mind was made up. I turned, slowly—careful not to wake her—and brushed a kiss to her forehead. I whispered a promise she would never hear.
“I won’t let them touch you.”
River answered with a sigh, fast asleep and unaware of the small, comfortable life we’d built crashing down around us.
My eyes darted to the window, to the milky blue sky bleeding gold as dawn approached on the horizon. I could spare a few more minutes. I could lie here with her, hold and be held, and pretend for a little while longer that this could last forever. I could kiss her eyelids and stroke her hair, run my palm down her spine and carve that curve into my memories.
I could take my time padding through the quiet house I’d come to call home. I could inspect every odd trinket and ornament, dip my fingers in the koi pond, and listen to the water trickling down the stream. I could follow that stream to the guest room. I could slip inside and fetch my gun from the top shelf of the wardrobe where River had left it.
And then I would go—alone—to end this, so that she could live to see the future she so desperately tried to show me. It was the only path forward, the only possible option.
A final, resigned, act of love.
51
River
Something was wrong. I knew it the second my eyes flew open and I woke with a violent jolt.
I was still on the sofa, naked under the blanket that slipped from my shoulders when I sat upright, squinting at the sunlight that streamed through the windows. I lifted a hand to shade my eyes, looking around the living room with a knot of dread in my stomach. I’d overslept, and that left me disoriented and distressed.
