Bloodsong

Chapter 15

I wake to Glade's voice and relief pours through me. He came for me. He came to draw me out of the dark.

“Glade,” I say, my voice raw and low. It hurts to come out of my mouth. “Glade.” I reach for him blindly, my eyes taking a long time to adjust.

“Shh, I'm right here, little lion. I'm right here.” He picks me up and cradles me to his chest and I can only think that no other place has ever felt quite so good, so deliciously safe.

“She wanted me, Glade. She wanted to feed.” I groan when he shifts my weight and I wonder how hurt I am, and how I got to be that way.

“I know. She's gone. They're all gone.”

I saw the blood then, the blood that coated his chest, his arms, his face. Panic wells inside me and I turn in his arms, slide to the floor so I can look him over.

He chuckles softly. “It's not my blood,” he says. “Didn't I tell you that I'd hurt them, kill them all?”

I relax and lean heavily against him. “Thank God,” I murmur. I feel weak and exhausted, and I distantly feel his thirst rise.

“You need to feed,” I say as my vision begins to swim.

“Not until I know you're okay,” he tells me.

“I'll be...fine,” I manage before darkness steals my vision and I fall into unconsciousness.

/--/

I wake and find Glade is not next to me. Panic swells again and I can't breathe. I reach out for him mentally, feel for the echoes of our song.

I taste his satisfaction in the hunt, taste the blood going down his throat. That terrible burning abates and I know he is coming back for me. I relax slightly, but still feel as if there is something I must fret over.

Something there, just on the edge of my thoughts. Something I should remember.

I cry out, clutch my temples with my hands and try to push the memories out. I scream in pain, in defiance and rage.

I remember! I remember!

It's happening all over again and I am powerless to stop it.

He is looking at her, the way she walks, the way her hair reflects the light. He is watching her and he is not watching me. How many times is this going to happen? How much longer can I live with her and these looks?

She flirts with him and I feel the rage begin to swell upwards, but there is nowhere for it to go. Distantly, I hear the sound of tires squealing as they lock into a brake. As the black film takes over my senses, I am aware only of my hand grabbing her arm, tracing the curve of a breast, and then there is air.

A crowd around me. I see a flash of bright red around them.

“Leila? Leila! Leila, where are you?” I cry, searching frantically for her.

I push my way through the crowd, find her broken body laying in a pool of its own blood.

I scream, fall to my knees, dip fingers in the blood.

“Cold,” I say hoarsely. “I feel so cold.”

And I faint, fall over her body so that even in her death I still try to protect her.

/--/

When I come back to the present, Glade is here and his arms are around me. I am crying and clutching at his shirt, barely aware of the small cooing noises he is making.

His tears splash onto my upturned face and I realize he is crying for me, for what I did.

I am a murderer.

And he still loves me.

I am a murderer and he still loves me.

The night is forgiving. I see that now.

Blood calls to blood and our song echoes around us. And for now, I am content, happy to drown in the sound of singing metal and the scent of blood. I am happy to fall into his arms and lose myself to a passion so intense that it is obsession.

I own this man. I own his heart and soul.

I kiss him, fiercely, as if I were eating him from the mouth down. Our tongues clash; his fangs sting my lips. Desire rides us down into the dark of night, but it is the night that belongs to lovers. It is the night that calls us home.

I hope that this is where it ends. This night, this darkness. I hope that this is the end of an old life and the start of a new one.

But hopes...are so easily dashed.

Hope...is so easily broken.