Page 173 of Remnants: Disruption
And her.
And she’s moving.
“Oh fuck,” I cry out scrambling to my feet and diving to the bed. “Don’t you fucking die again.”
“I—” she wheezes and her entire body spasms.
“Stop, you’re alive. You’re okay,” I whisper, frantic.
“I should have told you,” She rasps.
“I don’t fucking care about you being a goddamned vampire,” I say, breathless. I can feel the tether. It’s strong. It’s there.
She’s going to live.
“You—” her eyes open and the stupid contacts hide the brilliant orange.
But she’s alive.
“No, you idiot,” I feel manic with glee and fear. “I don’t care because I love you. There’s nothing you could be that would scare me because I loveyou, Cass.”
I press my face to her chest and let out a sob. I can feel her heart. It’s beating and moving and beautiful.
She lets out a painful cough. “I love you, too.”
Chapter 61
Framed
November 16th, 1030 A.D., Later
She’s figuring it out. What do we do?
Nothing. We must wait for the king.
ERROR
There are moments where I wonder if she’s asleep or simply avoiding the conversation we need to have.
At this point, I’m not even remotely upset. I was terrified, sure, but now with the worst of it behind us, I know she had her reasons.
“Cass,” I whisper, brushing hair away from her closed eyes.
She doesn’t move, but I can tell she’s awake. Her nose does that twitching thing when she’s thinking, and she’s apparently been thinking a lot.
The wound around her abdomen has started to close. I never found the bullet. Frankly, I don’t know what happened. But I’m not going to question miracles.
“Cass, please,” I whisper, brushing my hand down her face. Her skin is warmer now. She’d been so cold before. “I know you’re awake. Just talk to me.”
She blinks her contact-muddled eyes open. I almost want to pull out those damn things myself so I can see the orange.
I let out a sob of relief and press my face into her neck. Just seeing her move is enough.
She lets out a groan as I sort of clamber over her. I don’t mean to knee her in the thigh, but I’m lanky so it happens.
I curl up against her, trying to pull her taller body against me. She nestles a little. Still quiet. Still thinking.
“I’ll talk,” I say, lips against her ear. “You listen.”
