Page 87 of The Last Guardian

“You won’t remember,” he assured me, with a hint of promise. “Just like always, gorgeous.”

Always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always, always.

Over and over, the word repeated itself in my head.

Was it something he’d said before?

Had he done this often when we were together?

The gardens became quiet as the sound of shattering glass echoed behind me, and he unfastened his trousers.

I remembered it would stop. I never saw who had saved me that night, but I remembered someone would come.

But Nevan’s expression shifted, transformed into a face with bloodshot eyes and a pale complexion.

Haedeon.

We were sitting in a dimly lit chamber.

No, no.

No.

“It wants me to drink it. Oh, yes… just a drop of your sweet blood.”

I wanted to scream. But my voice—it didn’t work.

Haedeon bent down, inhaling deeply at my neck, focusing on the pulsating vein beneath the surface. His muzzle caressed it. Once. Twice.

“Just a little.”

His teeth sank into my neck. A cry of agony escaped my mouth. I heard my own scream reverberating in my skull. Resonating in my ears. Shivering through my body.

Haedeon covered my mouth with his hand, muffling the cry.

Not again.

He drank and drank and drank. With each sip, a piece of my soul died. My blood and my body surrendered.

Darkness gently caressed my mind. Heavy. My vision blurred from the loss of blood, from my own tears.

The pain shot white. So much more intense than before. As if he were feeding on something beyond blood. Something hidden deep inside me. Ripping my soul out.

My body and my muscles became numb as my blood drained from my veins. My body gave out.

A groan of pleasure echoed from his lips into my neck. It coursed through my entire body. Sickening. Satisfied.

What was he going to do to me if I lost consciousness again? Would he bite me elsewhere? And once he finished, would I forget this?

But then a voice called my name. A voice that pulsed through my veins, caressing my skin as it urged me to come home and resist the darkness of this world.

Come home.

Yes, it was my home that called me back, that fought for me.

“Love,” it whispered.

“Come back,” it suggested.