Page 3 of Just One Night
“You’ll be like me,” he says, bending down to meet my gaze. He smiles. It’s a charming smile. I hate it. I hate him. “And you’ll be mine.”
I jolt upright in bed, cold sweat beading on my skin. My breath is almost too fast to catch, my heart stumbling over itself as it tries to regain a normal rhythm. I rub my hand across my neck, doing my best to ground myself in reality.
The bed I’ve slept in since moving into the king’s residence cushions my trembling body, the silk sheets crisp against my skin. The room is filled with familiar smells—books and jasmine and citrus. I’mhere. In my room. Not there. Not chained up.
A nightmare. Just another nightmare. Samuel isn’t here. You’re safe. You’re safe.The words sound like Saint’s voice inmy mind, but when I look at the armchair in the corner of my room, he’s not there. His usual spot is empty, and the vacancy pinches my chest.
I can’t remember when that chair became his. My memories are so foggy from when I was first brought here, newly turned and with a broken mind, but Saint was the only one who made me feel safe, grounded, real. Ironic, since he often altered my reality to help me feel sane.
I remember asking him to stay one day after he’d helped me feed, making me believe the blood in my glass was wine. I’ve worked incredibly hard to not need his help feeding, doing my best to grow strong enough to function without his assistance, but now that he’s not here, I feel his absence like a hole in my heart.
I absently trace the mark on my neck, knowing it by heart now. A shiver of apprehension dances through me at the memory of Saint’s face when he saw the mark. He’d been shocked at first and thenterrified. Scared of a life shackled tome.
It’s awful enough that he duty-bound himself to me after what Samuel forced me to endure. That’s another reason I’ve done everything I can to regain composure, control, a sense of purpose in a life I still don’t fully understand. He deserves to be free of me as a responsibility because God knows he’s not spending time with me out of any affection he has for me. And now his mark—their mark—decorates my skin and I have no clue who it belongs to. They’ve both touched me here, and the not knowing is a new form of torture.
Sleep long forgotten, I hurry out of bed and into some clothes. My rooms here at the residence are far grander than anything I ever had before. But, if I’m being honest, if I allow myself time enough to find peace, I feel at home here in a way that shouldn’t be possible. I know that is equally due to Saint’shelp—his constant presence—as much as the family that’s taken me in here.
I wander through the residence, coming upon the breakfast room easily. It shocked me at first, how big of a family the vampire king had. How they tried to dine together as often as time and circumstance allowed. In the beginning, I couldn’t stand being around anyone. Saint was the only one I’d allow near me because he could make the images in my mind disappear or calm the emotions threatening to choke the life from me.
But lately, I’ve been getting better at being around them. Especially with Cassandra and Annika’s help. I didn’t exactly want to leave Cassandra’s island—the seclusion and paradise had been addicting—but I understood the need to return. I’m so glad Olivia and her baby, Selene, are now thriving. That’s one good thing in a long line of shit this family has had to deal with since the hunters were awakened.
“Aurora.” King Alek beckons me into the dining room where I linger in the doorway. “Please, join us.”
Every instinct is poised to run. I’m no good at conversations. Never have been. I don’t want to be a burden or have their focus shift to me and all the things I don’t say. All the social cues I miss or discussions I don’t take part in.
“Please,” he says again.
I dip my head. “Thanks,” I say, my voice soft but clear as I take an empty seat across from Saint.
He doesn’t look at me, and I pretend it doesn’t sting.
Annika fills a plate and slides it in front of me. I smile at her in silent thanks, then pick at a stray piece of fruit. It was a small comfort when I discovered vampires still eat human food. After being forcefully turned, I thought I’d have to give up things like fruit and bread, but it’s all about moderation. I can have both human and…vampire sustenance.
But actually feeding from someone? Sinking my fangs into someone’s flesh and gulping down their life source? I still don’t know how to do that or if I ever can. The idea of hurting someone, just tofeedmyself, makes my stomach turn.
Chatter resumes as I eat, and as I casually glance around the table, it’s a relief to see no one is staring at the mark on my neck. I didn’t bother looking for a scarf or anything to hide it. Everyone is so close here, there’s no one in this circle that doesn’t know it appeared. I just wish I knew who it belonged to.
“We’ll have to get new supplies in.” Alek is speaking with Ajax and Ransom at the other end of the table.
I’m not sure why, but their faces are more severe than they were moments before. I try to listen, but my eyes wander across the table, watching Saint focus on the king. My mind goes fuzzy at the edges, like it’s been doing since I was turned, but not as intensely as before. Saint is a stunning man—male—there’s no denying it. He’s tall and wide and muscular, but most of the hunters are. It’s his full lips and dark eyes that have the ability to strip me bare in a blink that I can’t get enough of. I even like the thin red ring around his pupils because it’s such a unique part ofhim. I’m not sure if there’s anything about him Idon’tlike.
Heat spirals in a teasing tendril as I continue to gaze at him. I’ve always been surprised at my body’s reaction to him—that hot, heady thrill that shoots through me any time he’s near. He’s Samuel’s identical twin in every way, and yet, they couldn’t be more different to me.
I linger on his hair. He used to have longer strands framing his face, but now it’s shorn on the sides. He’d cut it shortly after I’d awoken from a nightmare and mistook him for Samuel. The thought allows the memory to wash me away from the present…
I thrash against the thick comforter, shoving it off as I snap out of the nightmare. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I’m itching to move, to seek fresh air?—
Samuel sits in an armchair next to my bed. Everything inside me freezes, turning to ice as a scream rips from my throat.
“No!” I shout, scrambling back against the bed.
Samuel’s eyes snap open, and he’s on his feet in an instant. That preternatural speed has him in front of me in a blink.
“No more,” I beg, tears streaking down my cheeks. “Please. No more. I can’t.” Samuel has spent so many nights torturing me. I can’t hold on another minute. “I want to die. Just kill me, Samuel.”
“You’re safe,” he says. “I’m nothim. Aurora, I’m not him.” Saint’s voice cuts through the panic filling my veins.
I study his features a bit harder, my mind not trusting what it sees. His hands are raised, and there’s a softness to his eyes that Samuel’s never had. Plus, I know his voice. I’d know his voice anywhere. There’s a tone and pitch that calls to me in a drastically different way than his brother’s.
