Page 33 of Watch Me Turn
My fangs descend. I bring my wrist to my mouth and bite down hard, causing the magic-laced blood that runs through my veins to rush to the surface.
"Come on," I murmur, pressing my wrist against Angel's cracked lips. "You need to drink."
Nothing happens. His mouth stays slack, blood smearing across his chin.
Panic ripples through my chest. "Angel, please."
I angle his head back, let a few drops fall onto his tongue. For a horrible moment, there's still nothing—just my blood running down the corner of his mouth, wasted.
Then his lips twitch.
His tongue darts out, tentative, catching the blood at the edge of his mouth. Again, more deliberately.
"That's it," I breathe. "That's it, come on."
I push my wrist against his lips. This time his mouth closes around the wound, a weak pull that barely registers. But it's something. It's a start.
"Drink," I tell him softly. "That's it."
The pull gets stronger. His hand comes up around my wrist and draws it close to him. It's pure instinct, like an infant latching onto a nipple. Angel's grip on my arm tightens. The pull at my wrist grows steadier, more insistent. I can feel my blood leaving me, feel the power flowing into him with each swallow.
"Good," I whisper, my free hand stroking his sweat-dampened hair. "You're doing so good."
I close my eyes and let him drink, counting each drag, each swallow. Praying that Paloma was right. That this will work.
That no one will ever, ever know.
"Welcome to the very exclusive,very illustrious club of the vampire. We're happy to have you, finally," I say as I raise my mug in the air. "How does it feel?"
Angel lifts his cup in response and flashes his newly formed fangs at me. "It feels fucking great."
We slot into each other like we were designed that way. Our bodies crammed into the elaborate tub at the center of the bathroom. After Angel drank my blood, the final transformation was instantaneous. He bloomed and healed and evolved into the exquisitely dangerous predator he was born to become, and he's never looked more beautiful. No more waxy skin. No more high fever. Just cold blood running through his veins and two sharp fangs in his mouth.
But as we soak in a post-coital glow with blood on our lips, our wet limbs tangled together, and steam rising around us, my gut twists. Something is wrong. Something feels off.
Stop it, Sophia. Stop spiraling.
I square my shoulders. Angel is fine. He survived the transformation, and I've fulfilled my obligation to the client. I should be calm, elated even. I did the job and made it through to the end with a deep and lasting connection to a man I briefly wanted to murder at the start. Now we can leave this place and finally be together as equals.
Except it feels like something terrible is waiting on the other side of that door.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Angel asks, his face etched with concern.
I skim my palm across the surface of the water, the warmth of it pleasing against my icy cold flesh. "I'm just thinking about how I'm gonna miss this place," I say without meeting his eyes.
"I never thought I'd say this, but me too," he says with a laugh that echoes off the marble tiles. "This has been like the weirdest honeymoon ever. Trapped with the most incredible woman I've ever met."
My cheeks burn, and I try to shrug it off, but he doesn't let me.
"I'm serious, Sophia. That thing you did? The bird thing? It was the most amazing thing I've ever seen. I knew you were special, but..."
"Crow, not bird," I correct. "My special abilities are very specific."
"It just makes you all the more wonderful. Dios mío. If only we'd met under better circumstances, huh? You would have made an honest man of me. I just know it. You still could if you wanted. I'm yours."
I'm yours.
Well, ain't that the truth. Half mine anyway.
