Page 107 of For Dear Life

“That’s what Josef’s counting on. I didn’t behave. As I lured the shifter away from Rowan, I saw Josef. He wanted me to take the shifter back to you. For you to kill.” He takes a ragged breath after the effort of speaking. “I’ll take the risk, because I don’t believe you will kill me.”

The eyes that mesmerized me from the first time I met them lock with mine, only they’re duller. Did I not worry for Grayson’s safety when Josef had him? Find myself drawn to him the night he returned, struggled with confusion at how relieved I was when I encountered Grayson unhurt?

Wanted the teenage moment in the closet.

On wobbly legs, I creep closer, but I can only hold my breath for so long. His blood scent is a fog as tangible as the shadows were, and I moisten my lips, the hybrid heart beating to life again. I halt in shock as my boots touch the sizeable pool of blood.

“I mean, you could lick some off the floor after you help me?” he suggests lightly.

“I’d prefer the blood pulsing into my mouth from a vein.” I slam a hand over said mouth. “Good grief. Sorry. Hybrid talk.”

“Violet,” he whispers. “I don’t care. I’ve always told you that.”

Ignoring the sticky pool beneath my boots, I crouch down to take hold of the bar, fingers slipping around the blood Grayson left with his own attempt to remove it.

“Josef?” He nods. “He has some strength to slam this through you into a breeze block.”

“Petrescu. Is he dead?”

I shake my head. Hurry. Get away from his blood. The metal inches from Grayson’s chest as I pull, and as the rebar clatters to the floor, I’m hit by what I’ve opened myself up to without thinking. The emerald eyes turn coal black, and Grayson’s hand shoots up the back of my neck, his fingers locking onto me.

He’s the vampire whose blood constantly calls to me, but that call deafened the truth. Grayson is a hemia whose veins are emptying of blood, and he needs more.

Grayson yanks me forward, but his lips barely touch my skin before I’ve jerked away, sliding on my ass through the blood then leaping to my feet. Grayson’s eyes drop to the bar by his side, and as I lurch for it again, he knocks it beneath a shelf.

“Grayson. Snap out of it,” I demand as he stands too. If he had the strength to stand, why couldn’t he remove the bar? Simple answer—he could. “Grayson!”

The force with which he hits me is beyond shocking. Nothing ever touched me in this way, and I sprawl to the floor, Grayson’s hips pinning me.

Yes, Grayson told me he had superior hemia strength as a Petrescu, but shouldn’t he be weak? He bears down on me, eyes pure black and teeth bared, and I’m almost trapped by him. I yell and jam an elbow into his face. Rowan outmatches me magically, and Grayson physically—trust me to choose the most powerful of entities to tangle myself with.

As if I’d tangle with anybody else.

Grayson howls as his cheekbone crunches, and I curse myself as blood also leaks from his nose. “Grayson. Stop.”

He doesn’t, and Grayson frees my hybrid in the one situation it’s impossible for me to cage her. Self-defense.

“I’ll kill you!” I shout, pushing at his face with a palm. “I don’t want to kill you, Grayson.”

His blood covers my hands. My hair. My skin, drowning me as if I’m beneath a pool of that blood, everything echoing apart from my heartbeat and his.

“Talk to me!” I slap him hard around the face, the noise bouncing around us, and he snatches my wrist, lips parting again. “Good grief!” I shout, raise my knees, and slam them into his chest until he flies backwards himself. “I’m a single uncontrolled heartbeat from tearing into you,” I say as we both stand. The hybrid baying for his blood blackens my vision until I don’t see Grayson, only a victim. “If you can run, run.”

Grayson does run.

Straight at me.

I warned him. I warned him. Snatching his hair, I yank Grayson’s head back and seal my mouth on his neck, breaking his skin with my teeth. Blood hits my tongue, my fingers crawling into his hair, across his scalp, pressing, as the primal Violet compels me. With the flow of Grayson’s warmth and life, comes the taste of his darkness, as heady as the flavor. I’ve struck the real reason for my obsession—the very thing I avoid—feeding my dark heart.

Grayson fought against me before, but now he doesn’t struggle, the hemia giving what he tried to take. Grayson’s legs give way and he slides away from my mouth until I’m left holding the guy slumped in my arms, the blood from his wound pumping slowly, along with his heart.

Grayson. I drop him as horror strikes at my soul. His lifeblood mingles with mine, and the guy I tried to protect is now my victim at my feet. Grayson won’t die. Not permanently. But all I can see in my mind’s eye is Josef killing Grayson. Grayson never allowed me to see that memory, and I was pissed that he shared with Rowan and not me. So, as we sat outside the lodge that afternoon, I peeked. I saw what his uncle did to him.

I’m as abhorrent as Josef Petrescu.

Dropping to my knees, I place my hands on Grayson’s clammy face, touching his translucent skin, as I count his barely there breaths. My lips press against the wound I made, and the blood now sickens me, as I tremble with disgust.

Dorian would never hurt someone he cared for. Eloise told me the first time he took her blood, Dorian did so with permission.

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