Page 117 of The Donor’s Dilemma

“No, love,” she said, kissing his cheek as he breathed her in with deep reverence. “You could never be too much for me.” He arched an eyebrow as if to ask if that was a challenge and Verity smirked. “Do you remember what happened?” she asked, sobering them both. “Why were you walking?”

He rested his head back in the pillow as he thought, eyes searching the room before landing on the door. “Have the police been?” he asked.

“No, I can call them, tell them you’re awake…”

“No,” he cut in. “There’s no point. I don’t remember…”

His eyes took on a steeliness that spoke a thousand words. He did remember, and he didn’t trust the police.

Less than a night later, Theo was discharged. He hadn’t spoken much, only fed, far gentler and slower than in his feral state, and fussed over Verity. The first desperate feed had left thick scars on her wrist that he stroked whenever he wasn’t drinking. His guilt painted every caress, but Verity didn’t care about the marks. Theo was safe, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Dr Smythe insisted on driving them to Theo’s apartment himself, leaving them outside the building with a bag of medication for Verity and a promise that he’d return after work the next day to check on her. He didn’t seem worried about Theo anymore, only wanting to make sure Verity was all right. The guy was cold and stuck up and stricter than a headmaster, but he really did seem to care about his patients.

“Lord Chapel!” the porter cried, jumping from his chair and rushing over to them as they stepped through the door. Verity had seen him a few times, watching the comings and goings of the building from behind his desk with a straight face and a nod. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Theo told him, though his grey eyes and hunched shoulders said otherwise. “I don’t suppose you have a spare key. The hospital…”

“Of course, sir.”

He walked them up the stairs, chattering about what Verity assumed was a mutual friend, as if he needed to fill the silence.

“He’s been a nightmare recently. You know what he’s like, though,” he rambled. “Just will not let it go. And I told not to worry about it. Just stay home, I said. If you’re gonna get peace, it’s there. You know what I mean?”

Pausing at Theo’s door, the porter turned to him with a look that didn’t match his gossiping. Theo nodded and the man winked, pulling out a ring of keys and opening the door.

“You rest up, sir, and give me a bell if you need anything.”

“Will do, thank you,” Theo said, stepping inside with his hand in Verity’s.

“Miss Harper,” he said, nodding to her before turning on his heel and heading down the corridor.

Verity waited until his footsteps retreated before asking Theo, “What was that?”

“My brother’s getting on at him,” he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head. “He’s saying he’ll keep an eye on us, and the apartment isn’t bugged.”

“Should it be?” Verity pulled back to look at him.

Gods, he looked exhausted. Dr Smythe might be more worried about Verity now, but Theo was still far from his best. Tending to him had been difficult before he started talking, and everything had moved so quickly since that he hadn’t even had a chance to shower. Dried blood crusted along his hairline, under his nails. The clothes they’d dressed him in looked crumpled and uncomfortable, with a smear of blood on the hem of his shirt.

“Why don’t you go get a shower,” she told him. “I’ll find us something to eat. Then we can talk.”

He nodded, giving her hand one last squeeze before trudging to his room.

Exhaustion nipped at her as she headed for the spare room to find clean clothes. The mirror above the dresser showed her to look just as bad as Theo, pale and grubby from being cooped up in the hospital the last couple of days. She wondered if it was the lack of sleep or the weakness of every muscle in her body that made her mind glaze over the situation she now found herself in.

The fake letters, the attack, seeing Theo on the edge of starvation. It was all too much, and her brain had decided to just forget about it all, leaving a dull, empty feeling in its wake.

She needed sleep.

After a shower of her own, Verity found Theo in the kitchen, having taken on the task of microwaving a meal himself. The temptation to tease him was fleeting. She knew that he didn’t technically have to eat, but having something other than blood in his stomach would help stifle the hunger she was unable to satisfy. Plus, she needed to eat, and Theo would worry if he thought she was going without.

Theo was texting while they ate, she would have called him rude, but after being dead to the world the last few days, she supposed he might have some catching up to do. When he handed her the phone, she realised it wasn’t his normal one. “Your mum’s number is on there if you want to call her,” he said. “Don’t use your phone.”

She bit back the urge to ask questions while he ate. He thought her phone was bugged? It had died the night before at the hospital and was still off, charging in the spare room, so she supposed it was no danger at the minute. “Debora Harper (Verity’s mother)” was one of the few contracts in the phone.

“How?” she asked.

“Your emergency contact at the Exchange.”