Disarming

by Alexia Purdy

  “I’ve never let anyone drink from me before.”

  “Always a first time for everything.” His voice was sad and did nothing to reassure me.

  Keep your enemies closer they say. I was pretty sure they hadn’t meant it like this. How much longer could I endure these bouts of unbearable suffering? I was pretty tough, and I had a high pain tolerance, but even the strongest can be flattened by the smallest of things. The viral epidemic had taught me that.

  Why had that wretched woman left me here with him? To watch me die? Since they had yet to return, I wondered if they even thought I was still alive. Probably not. She hadn’t been very interested in me as she had been with Christian’s reaction to me.

  The room spun, forcing me to close my eyes and grind my teeth together. I fought unconsciousness as I curled into a ball. Regardless, the light darkened as I slipped into a sweet, soothing sleep. It was funny how sleep paralyzed the pain, until it breaks through with its ensnarling fingers to stir one from the oblivion of dreams. I wanted the pain to leave me forever and let me wander away in my memories and thoughts. Alone, pain-free and lost to the world.

  ~~~~~

  THE HOUSE’S STUCCO was chipping off, leaving bits of grey under the red, earth-colored paint. I remember picking at it, watching the flakes fall into a pile of debris, like dead leaves off a tree. I’d pick the paint right off, until the gaping hole left the house’s paint job looking like Swiss cheese. My mother would yell at me for being so destructive. Not my father; he would sigh and give me a tired smile as he retrieved one of the gallons of paint he had stocked for such occasions. I’d help him smooth it out and reapply the color to the wounds, like bandages to scars, drying to heal but remaining marred forever.

  Most times, I would refrain from telling my mother about this, knowing her impatience with my small rebellions would probably drive her to madness one day. My father would just wink and tell me to go clean up before dinner, assuming the task of repairing the damage in secret. I’d return his smile and run inside, relieved I wouldn’t have to face my mother’s wrath. I loved her, but had always gotten along better with my father, more so than I did with her. We were always at odds. I wondered why that was. Maybe she had been right; I would always be more of my father’s daughter than hers. Either way, we had been happy, but nothing ever lasts forever.

  The night my mom had received the call that he had suddenly died was a blur of slow motion and flashes. I remember going with her to the hospital, sitting in the wretched waiting room full of plastic chairs that were hard and uncomfortable but easily cleaned. I’m sure they had to be that way in an emergency room, so much blood and vomit and tears had to grace these chairs pretty often. The smell of bleach and latex permeated the air, making me want to run outside just to be able to breath.

  I hadn’t cried yet. I was frozen inside. Shock had a way of making it seem like it was happening to someone else, surreal. The waiting room had blurred out in my vision and remained suspended in a slurry of noise and flashing lights. I barely noticed the endless influx of ambulance stretchers with patients rushing through the bay entrance and the dual door to the back. People crying, some complaining about the wait. Others arguing with the nurses in the triage area. It was chaos and static noise to me.

  He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be. He hadn’t been old enough to have a heart attack. He was young, in good shape and robust. Any minute he’d walk through the double doors of the nurses’ station where the rows of curtains separated the beds of each sick person. Any minute I’d hear his voice as he called my name to come give him a hug because it had all been a mistake and he felt a whole lot better. Any minute now….

  But the minute never came. I had sat there for what had felt like an eternity until my mother had emerged, puffy-eyed and exhausted, her hair disheveled and her nose flaming red from crying. One look at me as I stood up to hear any news of Dad had her stuttering as she mumbled about him being gone and how he’d had some hidden heart defect. Nobody could’ve known. There had been nothing anyone could’ve done, it was over so fast, but he didn’t suffer at all.

  I didn’t remember much after that. Just a succession of images and voices. Me running out the ambulance bay doors and down the street, hearing her call my name into the wind and the rain coming down in sheets until it swallowed up her yells. The sting of raindrops, the burn of salt of my tears in my eyes. My hair whipping my face as it tangled up from the sopping mess it had turned into. My father was gone, and I was running like I could catch him before his soul left this earth forever. I wanted to catch him. I wanted to pull him back to earth and anchor him to the land permanently. We needed him. Come back Dad, don’t go….

  ~~~~~

  I SHIFTED IN my sleep, not realizing I was on the floor using Christian’s chest as a pillow. He had managed to grab a blanket and pull it around me as best he could. He probably didn’t feel the cold and his arm probably didn’t cramp up under the weight of my head, but he didn’t much sleep either. He was lost in thoughts that slipped into his own mind as the pain subsided for the night.

  Or was it day? I couldn’t really be certain. The only certainty I felt was the intense peace I felt lying next to him. I wouldn’t know for a while, but he had felt happy and scared at the same time, wondering what it was that had happened to us that day. Between the worlds that divided us, we were still there alive and breathing, though barely. He whispered a soft promise that I didn’t quite hear as he ran his fingers through my long black hair and let me slip in and out of delirium. As hard as I tried to listen and decipher his words, I faded into my dreams again before the jumbled whispers made any sense. It would take a long time before he eventually told me what those words had been.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Break

  April

  HOW MANY DAYS had passed while I was in my semi-conscious state? I would occasionally surface into lucidity but it would not last long, for the pain would return quickly and clutch me to its chest with an iron grasp. I wanted to die. I barely registered Christian there, urging me to eat as the guards shoved plates of sparse food and a cup of drink through the bars for me. From the looks on their shocked faces, they were surprised I was still there, still untouched and not drained of my precious blood. I’d get a few spoonful’s down and tiny sips of water before the pain would sear through me again, tossing me into the black oblivion once more.

  I wondered if I’d ever see Jeremy again and how he was faring. I prayed that Miranda would not leave him alone in the bunker with my mother. Helen was capable of anything now, even harming her own son. I should’ve been there, but my selfishness had brought me to this, trapped and near death.

  I moaned in my sleep, my clothes were sticky and filthy from fever and days of missing a nice cleaning. At moments I’d find myself awakened, embarrassed to find Christian next to me. I was pretty ripe, and the constant soaking with dripping sweat did not help matters. I wanted it to be done already, but found no solutions for my predicament.

  Rye.

  Where was Rye? Was he looking for me? Did he know where to look? Had Blaze forbidden him to come searching down here for me in fear that a civil war might break out between his hive and these humans? I didn’t blame Blaze one bit. I had underestimated these people, belittling their ability to keep me away, never taking into the account that I might not make it back out.

  And the question of what they wanted with me was the biggest one of all.

  “Eat some more, April. You’re going to starve before I do.” Christian’s voice hummed in my head as I tried to keep my heavy eyelids open.

  “I can’t eat any more.” I pulled my face away from the spoon he held out for me. To have him feed me like a baby was mortifying. I had to get out of here, at any cost. “I can’t stay here anymore; I need to get out of here.”

  Christian dropped the spoon in the can that had been opened for my meal. Pork and beans for days now. It was like tasting metal now, and I couldn’t stomach it for much longer.r />
  “April, I can’t break the bars. I’m too weak. I need blood, but.…” He sighed, leaning against the wall. He sat at the end of my cot, his blanket permanently on me now as I curled up on the other end. I watched him curiously, baffled that he hadn’t just taken my blood already. How does he control it? It must be torturous.

  “But I don’t want to be your ‘bonded mate,’” I muttered. “No offense, but this isn’t possible.”

  “I know that.”

  “So can I fight it? Is it possible to break a bond once it’s formed?” My question hung over us like bricks. I doubted he even knew the answer.

  “I don’t know, April. I wish I did, really.”

  I gave him a tiny nod, knowing what he asked of me. If I didn’t give him my blood, we would die here. I would never see Jeremy again. On the other hand, if I did give him a drink of my blood, I might have a new unwanted boyfriend, even though I didn’t want it to come to that at all. I sighed; we were at an impasse.

  I can fight it, fight the connection, I told myself. I’m strong-willed and stubborn; if anyone can do it, it’s me. I’ll just have to stay far, very far, away from Christian.

  “So if I let you take my blood and you break us out of here, what guarantee do I have that you won’t leave me behind? I can’t even stand up.” I was afraid to look up, afraid to see the wrong thing behind his eyes. But I couldn’t stop myself and glanced up.

  As his two-toned orbs flickered over to me, a twinkle of hope flashed in them. “Once I have blood, I’ll feed you some back. I swear it. You’ll be like new then, and stronger. Then we both make a break for it, leave this place. I won’t leave you behind, I promise.” He looked serious, and I wanted to believe him more than anything.

  “Will you promise me something else?” I whispered as the tendrils of pain began to snake back in.

  “Yes, of course.” The words felt like waves of softness rustling over my skin, almost soothing. I shook it off, my body already twitching from the impending agony. “If I can’t control our connection, if I start to think you really have become my mate, would you please leave me alone and stay far, far away from me? Please?” I wondered if he understood what I asked. I hoped he would. I needed him to.

  Christian’s face fell, and a look of doom painted itself across it, leaving his features solemn and dark. The sadness he emitted made me want to cry, and it made me doubt he could even do what I asked. Would he say no?

  An eternal moment later, he whispered back. “I’ll do what you ask. But I have to help your mother first. I have to atone for the things I’ve done before I leave. Okay?”

  Another bout of pain seized my chest, and a sick wheeze seeped from my throat as I tried to breathe through it. Every cell in my body was on fire. Every inch and hair follicle protested and seized. I barely noticed that Christian was also having a hard time with this episode of torturous agony as he sat writhing at my feet. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to endure it much longer. I knew whatever it was he needed to do, I was going to let him, for it was the only way out of this mess.

  The pain receded, like a calming tide washing away. It left us both heaving from the intensity of it. As my breath slowed, I waited for him to continue, though he looked incredibly pale from this last assault. If we waited any longer, it was going to be too late.

  “I have to take your mother to Rick, figure out what went wrong.” He gasped for air and let himself fall into bed next to me. His breathing came ragged and harsh. “I think the end is near, April.” His whisper reached my ears, sending me into a panic. Closing his eyes, he became very still. With what little energy I had, I slid down next to him.

  “Christian?” He didn’t respond, his eyes fluttering in and out of consciousness.

  Crap! I hoped I wasn’t too late. If he died, I knew that I would too. I had to do something.

  I brought my wrist to his mouth. His lips seared like fire from the feverish heat that consumed him now. It gave him a slight blush on his pale, porcelain skin. He looked peaceful with his eyes closed, lost in some other place. I had to wake him, let him drink from me before it was all over.

  “Christian! Wake up! Here, drink.” I shook him, willing him to awaken. This can’t be happening. “Please…”

  Just then, his eyes fluttered open and rolled around until they focused on me. I offered my arm once more, waiting to see if he had enough strength to feed. “Come on, you need blood now.”

  He looked like he nodded ever so slightly as he reached up, his hands shaking ferociously as he fought to curl his fingers around my thin wrist. Bringing my skin back to the warmth of his lips, I braced for the agonizing bite. His fangs flashed as his lips parted. Then, faster than I could imagine, he sunk them into my wrist. I gasped, the brief pain replaced immediately by a calm, soothing euphoria. What dirty a trick to make the hunters soothe their prey with the bite that ended their lives. I felt the warmth of my blood gush into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the fluid hungrily as he sucked harder and harder.

  Would he kill me? Would he bleed me dry?

  As if to answer me, he let go at that very moment. I groaned at the receding block of pain, feeling the sore ache of the wound hit me as his fingers dropped from my skin. I watched in suspended surprise as his sallow, pale skin morphed into perfect, smoothed out flesh, a blush of color growing on his cheeks. Even his hair shined as though revived with life. I didn’t feel better yet and let my head drop to the mattress in a tangled mess of black, stringy hair.

  “April?” Christian’s voice echoed in my head, too far away to respond to. I wanted to let him know that I was going to nap, to let my dreams take me away into some warm, quiet place where there was no pain, where my father waited for me.

  “April! No, you’re not, stay with me hun,” I heard him grunt as he bit into his arm, letting the red, silky fluid drip from the bite and splatter onto my dried, cracked lips. “Drink, April, it’s your turn to get better.” He pressed his wrist to my parched mouth. The spill of wetness swirled over my tongue as the echo of euphoria returned. It was sweet and slightly sticky but tasted amazing, like the perfect food.

  April….

  I didn’t know who it was that whispered to me as Christian’s life blood flooded and swirled inside, fusing my own with this elixir. All I knew was that it was exquisite; its warmth penetrated my cold limbs and sent an electrifying surge through me. My strength was returning, and my fingers curled around his skin to pull him closer. I drank his blood desperately, wanting more and more.

  “April… April, that’s about enough.” Christian jerked away, leaving me wanting. I fought the urge to pounce on him once more and finish my drink. It took all my willpower to clear my head of the strange fogginess that surrounded my thoughts. I was feeling more like myself once he pulled away, especially with the fatigue, pain and fever receding into oblivion.

  “Wow!” I wiped the drips from my chin and studied Christian. He was smiling widely, his long hair hanging down over his face as he looked down on me. “I feel so much better! I never thought….” I stopped, wondering why his lips looked so enticing right now. The pull to get closer was overwhelming, yanking me like a leash strapped to my neck.

  Leaning into him, I slipped my hands around his neck and pulled him toward me. I wanted to kiss his lips, hard and desperately, let the warmth of my skin penetrate his. The taste of metallic blood mixed in our mouths, left over from our drinks. Desire flooded through my body, demanding payment and wanting to feel his hands on me. His lips were equally hungry and insatiable. We kissed and ran our hands over each other, tugging and pulling our bodies even tighter together, as though we could fuse into one being, as though this was everything we needed.

  No, stop!

  A thought screamed in the back of my head and made me pull away from the trance with a jolt, back into the present. I snapped my eyes open, finding Christian still so close, kissing my neck and nipping my earlobe. I shoved at him, giving him a swift push which sent him
tumbling onto the cement floor. He recovered quickly, his vampire reflexes already returning in full force. Looking at me, a surprised confusion replaced the wild eyes and desire spilled off of him in waves.

  We sat there in silence for what seemed like hours. I was horrified by these feelings running so unchecked and turbulent inside me. I wanted him… badly. I wanted him like I had never wanted anything before. I shook the thoughts away and tried to focus back on the task at hand. We had to get out of there before we consumed each other to death.

  “We have to go. Now,” I demanded, hoping he could focus enough to remember his promises. He gave me a nod, slowed his rapid breaths and stood up. He walked to the bars, took hold of two of them and pushed and pulled at them until the metal screeched in response and bent away. He was certainly powerful, probably more so than Rye. I wondered if the withering sickness had left him different, even more changed than he had been before. It left me apprehensive of what I had gotten myself into. What would his changed blood do to me?

  He motioned me to follow and I jumped to my feet. The blood coursed through me, making my movements fluid once more, warming my insides as I felt it continue to strengthen me. I slid through the warped opening easily and hurried behind him, down the hall and out the unlocked prison ward doors.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Intentional Things

  Rye

  THE LAST OF the shattering glass settled around his boots. Miranda sat unmoving, her face tight but not one bit surprised. He had shoved their glasses off of the table, enraged and frustrated. “I can’t believe you let her go alone.” Rye’s rage was cracking his voice, and his face changed shades of purple so fast he looked as though he was going to implode.

  “I didn’t let her go alone, she went on her own accord alone. I’m not her keeper.” Miranda tilted her head, narrowing her eyes down to her now ruined breakfast. “And neither are you, for that matter.”