Page 51 of Hell's Queen

He shakes his head. “At the end of the day, she deserves to rot in the deepest cage in Hell. But you are not a murderer. You are—”

“Hurt!” I snap. “Scared! Alone!”

“You are not alone. You have the family you made, and you have me.”

“Who is saving a murderer!”

“I am saving you!” he shouts, and I freeze. That was the first time my father yelled at me in my life. He raised us with respect, with ways to talk and express our feelings. Even Derrick learned to ask my father for his needs instead of screaming about them. “You are my daughter, and I know if you kill Evara, it will change you. I’ve murdered before, and it changes everything about you.”

“What do you know?” I deadpan. “You’re dead.”

“Asura Blaire,” he snaps.

“Goodbye.”

My phone rings a moment after I wake myself up. I roll over, hitting a body. Ozias groans at me, reaching for the nightstand and handing over my phone.

“Hello?” I answer it.

“He’s going to be okay,” Khazon’s voice comes over the phone.

My chest swells, and tears form in my eyes.

“Asura?”

“I—” My voice cracks, making me clear my throat. “Thank you, Khazzie.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you in the morning. Asura… I love you.” A sob escapes me at his words. “Shush, baby. Don’t cry. Go back to bed.”

“I love you, too, Khazon.”

“Goodnight, my queen.”

The shadows speak to me early in the morning, calling for me to visit Thorne. Their soft voices make the hair on my body stand up. Without another thought, I listen, letting the shadows wrap around me. They transport me to the darkness of his room. He’s still unconscious in bed. The venom in his body is going away quicker than before, but not fast enough.

I crawl over him, touching his cold face. If he wasn’t a vampire, I would be concerned.

He is looking weak again, despite the blood transfusion going on.

Biting my lip, I straddle his hips and lean forward. He never stirs no matter how much I call to him through the bond. Reaching onto his arm, I pull off the I.V. and use it to draw blood from my neck. I lean forward again, placing my open wound next to his mouth. After a moment, his arms wrap around me and pull me into him.

But he doesn’t feed.

“Mi Amor,” he whispers.

“Eat,” I simply say.

He shakes his head. “I’m fine with this… hospital shit.”

“I’ll make you feel better quicker.”

With a soft chuckle, he says, “Oh, darling. I will last longer than that.”

I roll my eyes at his dirty joke before running my hand over the small wound and trying to push the blood into his mouth.

He turns away. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Thorne.”

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