Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
This stops me.
I mean, the fuckery happening on my back should be what stops me. Or the fact that I haven’t put on pants. But what stops me is the idea that I’m not thinking clearly.
Junior Mints, Ryet? What the hell?
I put the truck key back on the counter and take a breath. I feel like I’m stuck inside a manic episode where all the bright and shiny things need my attention. And by bright and shiny things, I mean food.
Yesterday, it was blood.
Today, it’s food.
What changed?
But I already know what changed. Syrsee drank me and then I drank her back and this explains why she’s craving blood.
Our cravings were passed in the blood exchange.
Weird.
And my response is also weird. Because this is kind of a big deal. If cravings can be passed through blood, what else?
Can we make each other sick by doing this?
Can we change things inside us? Like… genetically?
Paul is inside my head now. His voice, at least. “Don’t you wish I was still here so you could ask?”
Reluctantly, I do. I wish he was here. Because I don’t know what’s happening, and what if we’re doing something wrong?
“Why are you covered in dirt?”
I turn and find Syrsee standing in the doorway to the bedroom. She’s wearing a flannel that’s like five sizes too big for her and she’s clutching it to her body like she’s cold. I think it came from my closet.
“What?” I blink at her.
“Why are you covered in dirt?”
I look down at myself. Then at the floor. There’s a trail of dirt in the shape of footprints leading to the door to the basement. My first instinct is to lie. Maybe lie is a strong word. My first instinct is to deny. Deny the fact that I went unconscious drinking her and woke up in a hole under the house that I dug myself.
“I… woke up in a hole under the house.” There’s really no other explanation for it, so why bother lying?
She tilts her head and kicks her hip to the side, grinning at me. Unfazed by what I just said. Which isn’t exactly a normal reaction. “Are you hungry?”
“Uh. Yes. But.” I hold up a finger. “Did you just hear me? I woke up in a hole under the house.”
“I heard you. But I don’t want you to go hungry.”
“Right. About that. I’m actually not hungry for… you.”
“What?” Her face shifts into confusion. “What’s that mean? You’re craving some other witch’s blood?”
“No.” I nearly laugh. As if there is any other witch. “I’m craving food, Syrsee. Real food. Like bacon.” And dirt. But I don’t say that last part out loud.
“Oh.”
“And let me guess, you’re craving blood?”
She hesitates. Which means yes, she’s just not ready to admit it yet.
“It’s OK.” I think. Actually, it’s probably not OK, but I don’t wanna panic her. “I think it’s the exchange we did.” Now she’s confused. “When I drank you, and then you drank me, we…” I shrug. “Passed something along in the blood.”
“We passed along cravings?”
“It’s the only explanation I have. But I’m not an expert. If Paul were here—” I stop, unable to believe that I just said that out loud.
“If Paul were here, what?” Her question comes with a tone, and I don’t blame her.
“I could ask him, that’s all.”
“I thought that was why we were going to the Guild. To get answers.”
“Yeah. But we’re not there. We’re here. And something weird is happening, so… sorry. It slipped out.”
“I didn’t have a choice, Ryet. If I didn’t capture him—trap him, whatever it was that I did—then we’d both be prisoners in that compound.”
I walk over to her, wanting to pull her close and give her a kiss. Touch her body. Maybe even fuck her. But I’m covered in dirt, so I keep a distance between us. “Do you wanna take a shower?”
She lets out a breath and drops her guard. “I do.” Her fingertips touch her head. “Sorry. I just don’t feel like myself. My head is—”
“Foggy?”
“Yeah.”
“I think that’s from the blood too.”
“So I can’t have anymore?” She’s looking at me with sad eyes.
“Do you want more?”
I get a one-shoulder shrug and a tilt of her head. Meaning yes, but this is yet another thing that she doesn’t want to admit.
“I think we should hold off. I won’t drink you, either. Not until the craving comes back.” I smile at her, reaching for her hand. “Sound fair?”
She nods, but I can tell she’s still feeling confused.
“Come on.” I tug her back into the bedroom. “You can wash my new wings.” When I look over my shoulder I catch her sighing. And when her eyes meet mine, they are filled with doubts.
There is a crushing feeling in my chest. A feeling of loss. Because something has gone wrong here.
Something has gone terribly wrong.