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My hand flies to the center of my chest, and I suck in deep breaths, trying to fill my lungs with much needed air. It's nearly impossible with how my heart is stuttering, skipping and taking off like it’s been struck by lightning.
Shit shit shit.
So much for Sirius’s trick or rationing medicine.
My head pounds, and my fingers go numb as I rummage through my bag and grab one of the vials. I stand on wobbly legs, stumbling farther into the woods, needing more space, more openness, more air to breathe.
I grip the cork of the vial with my teeth, yanking it out before dropping some of the fine powder onto my tongue. I make it through an expanse of trees, stumbling onto the soft sand of the beach, the midnight ocean churning beyond. The night sky is clear and open and expansive, and I breathe through my nose as I swallow the medicine down, re-corking the bottle and putting it in my satchel. My heart submits to the magic, pumping hard once, twice, as if trying to fight the effects before leveling out.
I shake out my fingers in an attempt to get some life back into them.
Fuck, I hate that. Hate being so out of control of my own body. Hate fighting against something that's supposed to keep me alive. I’ve dealt with this for years, but it never gets any easier. Each attack is a panic response on my nervous system, all internal alerts shouting that something isn't working.
I inhale deeply through my nose and out through my mouth, doing my best to get as much oxygen to my brain as I can. Sirius told me that every time my heart goes out of rhythm it cuts the air off, and gets more dangerous every time.
The tingling in my fingers subsides, and I feel more rooted in my body than I had moments before as I gaze up at the stars. I didn't think I'd have an attack so soon, especially after feedingfrom Jagger, but I pretty much wasted that gift when I got myself run through by a spiked baton and lost so much blood.
If Sirius knew, he’d give me an intense lecture about how almost dying in combat certainly isn't the way to keep my heart steady.
I shake my head, almost laughing at the visual of the worrisome sorcerer, and lose myself to the beauty of the sky and the sounds of the ocean waves.
Ifeelhim before I hear him.
Somehow, I manage to not turn around, even though every instinct in my body is screaming at me to. I don't want to give the prick the satisfaction.
The heat from Zev’s body radiates onto mine as he stops directly behind me. I go wholly still, wondering if he’ll be the second person to stab me in the back tonight.
“I can barely remember my mother,” he says as if we've been in a conversation for hours. “She left me at the Drifter Academy when I was four,” he continues. “But what I do remember of her is how much she loved the stars. She used to tell me that a star fell from the sky when she was pregnant with me and landed in her palm. That's why my hair is silver.”
I turn around to face him then, finding him looking up at the sky, his features less guarded than usual. His golden eyes fall on me, and I’m struck by the intensity in them. Why is he sharing another insightful truth with me? Is he expecting me to do the same?
“Thinking of running, little succubus?”
“Maybe I wanted to lure you here so you could tell me stories about your past,” I say, and he gives me an incredulous look.
My shoulders drop, my exhaustion crumbling any form of defense I might have. “Another attack woke me up,” I say. “I needed more room to breathe. And my meds.”
His brow furrows, a flash of anger slicing through his golden gaze. “You should not have risked yourself like that today.”
I purse my lips. “No one deserves to die just because of who theyare. Let alone an innocent youngling. I would do it again. Iwilldo it again if we run into anything like that on the road. If you want me to survive long enough for you to use me to get what you want, you’ll just have to keep dealing with that.”
Something like challenge ripples all over his features, and I arch a brow. It looks like he enjoys the idea.
My excitement is just as easily dashed as my muscles start trembling, feeling like I might fall over any second. Damn it, I really didn't want to have to feed so soon again. It's one thing to want Jagger’s blood, but to have toaskhim for it...I'm not used to asking for help.
Zev looks me over, as if he can sense something wrong inside of me.
“You need to feed.”
“I'm fine,” I say, and do my best to brush past him, heading toward camp like a good little captive. My steps falter, my muscles locking, and I stumble.
Zev is there, catching me with a grunt. “The sorcerer told me you can’t ignore your needs, it’ll only make your condition worse. You need to feed,” he growls.
“I'm. Fine.” I snap and push away from him.
The last person I need to see me in a weakened state, weaker than he's seen me before, is Zev. As much as he can’t stand me, he’s probably getting off on it.
He growls, that low rumble in his chest I’ve heard so many times I’d recognize it even in an ocean of sounds.
