Page 8 of Just One Night
My heart drops to my stomach. “I don’t want to kill anything else tonight.”
Hunger and exhaustion swirl together, making my throat burn. I’ve never bitten anyone before, never drank blood from any other source than the supply Saint has brought me. And now that’s not an option. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I knew I couldn’t live in the fantasy he created forever, but I had foolishly hoped I’d be able to ease my way into acknowledging the stuff I craved wasn’t wine, but blood.
“We’re still learning about your abilities,” Gabriel says, his voice kind, soft. Everyone speaks to me this way, like I might break if they their tone is too raised. I understand why, but it still irks me. I don’t want to be breakable anymore. “I truly believe you have the power to heal as well as destroy. We just need to figure out the sensations for both and then you will be the one to choose which you use.” I still don’t reach for the plant, hesitant. “Aurora?”
The sound of my full name brings with it a sense of solidarity I desperately need. Everyone used to call me Rory. No one calls me that anymore. And I’m happy they don’t. Rory was a too-timid half-human, half-vampire girl desperate for love from a father who wanted nothing to do with her. Rory let herself be captured by a monster and was too weak to fight him off.
Rorydiedthe night Samuel stole her, bit her, tortured her.
Aurorawas born when she woke up in Saint’s arms.
I reach for the flower, doing my best to concentrate on the sensations Gabriel mentioned. If tugging is what kills the plants, then maybe pushing would be the thing to give them life.
Don’t pull, don’t tug, don’t pull…
The white petals fall off the green stems in clumps, the petals black as the potted soil.
Tears fill my eyes.
“We can try again tomorrow,” Gabriel offers, catching my gaze. “You have a well of power inside you. I can sense it. We all can. And managing that power takes time.”
Let’s just hope I figure out how to manage it before I accidentally kill something worse than a beautiful plant.
“Thank you.” I hurry out of his offices, more than ready to hide in my chambers. Do I have an itch to explore Edgemont beyond the safety of the king’s residence? Yes. Of course I do. Especially as a vampire. I’ve often fantasized about what the nightly supernatural life looks like, but…
I can’t. I know I can’t leave the protection of these walls. Not out of any fear that Samuel will snatch me again—clearly, he can do that from anywhere—but because of my hunger. The craving I can’t slake. If I ventured outside the king’s residence and ran into a human, smelled their blood, would I turn into a monster? Would I tear into them like I used to tear into chocolate croissants? The idea that I might hurt someone or worse, kill them from just a touch, is enough to keep me here.
Anger sears through me as I slam my bedroom door behind me. If I can kill by touch, why couldn’t I have ripped the life from Samuel when he grabbed me and dangled me off the roof? Why couldn’t I have been useful to my new family and channeled my powerthen?
Because I’d been petrified. Frozen in terror. One sight of his face, one feel of his poisonous touch, and I was instantly Rory again. A scared, naïve, weak woman.
“Aurora.”
I jolt at the sound, eyes flaring at the sight of Saint sitting in his favorite armchair near my bed. He’s slept there so many days before, watching my dreams. My own personal guardian from the nightmares that threaten my sanity. Warmth floods my body at his presence, a longing so fierce it steals the anger right out of me.
“Saint,” I breathe his name, relief uncoiling the tight thing inside me. “You scared me.”
He visibly swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know,” I hurry to say. “I only meant, I didn’t know you were here.” I hate that he sometimes thinks I’m afraid ofhim.
“I’ll try to be more visible next time.”
I laugh at that. “You’re best friends with the shadows,” I say. “I need to work on my situational awareness.” I need to work on a lot of things if I ever want to take back control of my life.
A flash of levity bursts in his eyes, his lips turning up at the corners, just a fraction. It’s such a rare and beautiful sight. Hunger streaks through me the second his scent of dark cherries, salt, and sage, hits my senses. God, I love that smell. It’s safety and stars and all things good in my new world. My fangs pulse, that thirst practically burning down my throat.
“I’ve brought you a volunteer feeder.” He rises from his seat.
“What?” I snap, scanning the room.
“She’s waiting outside.”
I hadn’t seen or smelled her, but I’d been deep in my thoughts when I stormed in here.
“I won’t touch her.” I shake my head, fear coating me.
“You need to feed,” he argues, towering in front of me now.
