Page 87 of Roses & Ruin
“Course m’okay.” Hayden’s eyelids flicker, his voice faint. “You’re alive. You’re nineteen years old.”
I make a despairing noise when I find a small branch poking out of his shoulder blade. I start to panic.
“Hayden—Hayden, you need to drink from me. Right now.” I rip the collar of my sweater open, sweep my hair aside, and press my neck against his mouth.
“Can’t. Need too much blood from you. Might kill you.”
“You won’t.” I shake him. “Drink, please. Please. We’ve gotten this far, Hayden. Come on.” My tears are painting trails through the ash on his face. “Please. If you love me, you’ll drink.”
He hesitates, but I nudge him, eyes pleading.
Finally, with a dark groan and remorseful gaze, he reaches up and pulls me to his mouth. His fangs sink into my neck, burying to the root. I gasp at the pain and immediate pleasure. Hayden threads his hand into my hair, and when he sucks, that first pull feels like a rush of hot, golden heat from my toes all the way through me to my core.
“Yes,” I say, tears of bliss running down my face. “Yes, Hayden.” He sits up, strength already returning to his limbs. He sucks harder.
I throw my head back, gasping in the fresh night air. Behind us, Caldwell Manor burns. The bodies of our enemies lie around us. Snow falls gently, coating Hayden’s dark hair in powdered sugar. Distantly, I see a tiny, fluffy blur pad out of the woods. Winston.
We survived, I think, trembling in his strengthening grip. We’re alive.
Chapter 30
From the helm, I watch Hayden pace the boat deck below me as he speaks to Delia on the phone. Behind him, the still-smoking silhouette of Crimson Bluff shrinks slowly on the horizon. The warm flutter tucked against my chest shifts, and Winston’s bat-like ears pop out of my sweater. Little yellow eyes blink up at me.
“You just ate,” I whisper, already digging out another piece of boiled chicken from my pocket. “So spoiled.” Winston’s purrs get deafening as he clasps the meat between his paws and munches.
I watch Hayden turn and walk the length of the deck again. His limp is gone. Took a few hours to go, even with my blood. I’m still feeling light-headed. But not just from blood loss. The exquisite feeling of finally having Hayden drink from me is still echoing through my veins.
“She’ll file the missing person reports now.” I startle a little as Hayden steps into the small cabin. “In a few days, a crime scene will be discovered in Julian’s apartment. Thankfully he lived alone.”
“How did they find us?” I ask.
Hayden purses his lips. “We were looking out for Julian, but we had no idea about Bianca and Chris. It’s possible one of them tracked us.”
“Poor Bianca,” I whisper, resolutely avoiding looking at the stern side of the deck. Hayden does, though. He slips an arm around me. He’s quiet a long moment. I know that he’s looking at three still figures beneath white sheets. “At least her family won’t be left wondering.”
Hayden just holds me tighter.
—
Delia, Hayden, and I hold our breath for two weeks. They flank me to every class. At Bianca’s funeral. Delia at one shoulder, Hayden at the other. Every shadow has their fangs shooting out. Every sudden movement, every startling sound.
When Winston knocks an empty Vanilla Coke can off my desk, the racket has Hayden nearly taking our door off its hinges.
“What is wrong with you?” he growls at the kitten. Winston yawns, his little pink tongue curling.
“Please don’t yell at the baby,” I sniff, patting my mattress. Winston trots over to me, sniffing for food.
“Sure, that’s a baby,” Delia grumbles. “A baby demon.” She eases out of her predatory crouch, her nerves just as frayed.
“Could it be,” I say slowly, “that, perhaps, the curse really is—”
“Don’t jinx it, Rose,” Hayden says, leaning back against the door. He looks, even for a vampire, exhausted.
On the third week, Delia stares out our dorm window for a long time, watching a group of other freshman girls have a snowball fight.
“Hayden,” she says quietly.
“What?” Hayden says. But he sounds so tired. Delia crosses the small room and puts her hand on his shoulder.
