Page 65 of Fanged Embrace
Her dark hair stuck out in choppy strands, the only visible part of her, while her body coiled smaller under the blanket. I tiptoed around the room, drawing the curtains until the space was shrouded in shadow, and tucked the gun away on the top shelf of the closet.
It was only when I passed the bed, on my way to the exit to give her some space, that Laurie gave some indication that she was even aware of my presence.
“Wait.” The urgency in the way she spoke struck straight at my heart and her hand snaked out from under the blanket, catching my wrist in a vice-like grip. I paused, looking down at her where she peeked out from under the covers.
“Stay.” Her voice was a whisper, a cracked, desperate plea I had never heard from her before. Her dark eyes were rimmed red, lashes damp with the last of her tears. “Please… stay.”
I glanced at the chair next to the bed, the one I’d sat in that first night when I kept up my solitary post, guarding her from the nightmares that threatened to invade her head. But she wasn’t letting go of my wrist, nails digging deeper into my skin like that short space between bed and chair was still too far.
So instead, I lifted the blanket and slid onto the mattress alongside her. Laurie shuffled backward to give me room, still clinging to my wrist like the slight contact was the only thing keeping her grounded.
I rolled over to face her, the two of us nearly nose-to-nose under the covers, eye-to-eye in the dark. The blanket lay like a cocoon around us, a soft sanctuary while we stared at one another in perfect silence.
I had held her in my arms many times by now, but never before had we been close like this. This was different, intimate.There was something sacred about it, something very fragile hanging in the small space between us.
It was Laurie who spoke first, her voice coming cracked and fraught with anguish. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being… like this.” She closed her eyes, heaving in a breath before the rest of the sentence came out in a rush. “I could havekilledyou—he wanted me to kill you. I’m so sorry?—”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” I closed my hand over hers, the one still wrapped around my wrist, and inched closer, until our foreheads touched. Laurie didn’t pull away. Her skin was hot against mine.
I waited for her eyes to open again, staring into those dark pupils and sending soothing waves her way. “I’m right here, I’m fine, and the Doctor—” she flinched when I spoke his title, but her eyes stayed locked on mine, hanging on my every word as I continued, “the Doctor got what he deserved. Because of you, he’ll never hurt anyone ever again.”
Her aura spiked, then softened, wavering like radio waves—subdued for now, but unstable. She closed her eyes again, sinking deeper into the pillows with a long, laborious exhale.
I watched her for a beat, taking in long lashes, the dark rings around her eyes. I wanted to help her, so desperately. But every option I explored led me to a dead end. Therapy was off the table, she’d tried that already and from what little information she offered it had done more harm than good.
You can’t talk your way out of irreparable damage. Some scars to the heart can’t be healed with a few comforting words. And with the Doctor out of the way, she was one step further on her quest for revenge—and one step closer to her final act.
I couldn’t bear the thought. It stabbed at my heart, a twisting knife when I was reminded over and over again that there was nothing I could do to change her mind.
I lay there for a long while, sending out ripples of my aura to smooth out her own. It had become something close tosecond nature by now. I knew exactly how to weave my calm energy with her chaos, enough to soothe the storm in her head.
Laurie’s breathing evened out, fatigue sending her into a half-conscious phase, teetering on the brink of sleep. I helped her along, batting off the bad energy that poisoned her mind, when a new thought occurred to me.
The rest of the world had already failed her, every method of relieving the ache falling short. But this—my power—helped. Slightly. Not enough to fix things entirely, but it was a start. And if that was the case… maybe magic was the answer.
Exactly what kind of magic, I wasn’t quite sure, but it was something worth exploring. Something that could potentially save her life. I nudged Laurie’s forehead with my own, an idea slowly taking shape inside my head.
“Hey, Laurie,” I murmured, reaching down between us to lace my fingers with hers.
“Hmm?” Her response was barely audible, her eyes crowded with sleep when she cracked them open.
“You’ve exhausted every option in the human world.” I whispered the words, but the flicker of hope they ignited bled into my tone. “I get that. Nothing so far has done any good, but… before you end things—before you give up everything for good… maybe you could give the supernatural world a shot?”
Laurie blinked back at me, lids slowly closing over tired eyes before she dragged them open again. She didn’t respond, probably didn’t understand, or didn’t believe it was possible. I tried again anyway.
“Just… hold off on the plan—for a little while.” I tightened my grip on her hand and lifted it to my chest. Pressed it over my heart. “Just give me some time. Let me find a solution—a magical one. Something you haven’t tried before, okay?” I couldn’t keep the desperation out of my words and it cracked my voice when I pleaded. “Just… Just wait a little longer. Let me help you.”
Laurie watched me for a while, and I could see the yellow glow of my own eyes reflected in hers. Then she closed them again, resting her forehead flush against my own and her breath mingled with mine.
Her voice, when she spoke, was infinitely tired. Laced with an exhaustion that ran bone deep. But her answer gave me hope. A small, flickering spark—easily snuffed out—but hope all the same.
“Okay.” She said it on an exhale, drifting further into sleep, barely present but just audible enough. “Okay… I’ll wait. I’ll wait for a while.”
32
Laurie
The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was the silence. It was quiet in the guestroom, and quiet in my own head. The second thing I noticed was that I couldn’t feel anything. Not the blanket spread over my body, nor the pillow under my head. I felt removed from the rest of me, watching myself from afar. It wasn’t just physical sensations that evaded me, either. I couldn’t summon a shred of sadness or anger. I felt no fear, not even a flicker of concern.
