Page 39 of The Unraveling

“Drink, and I’ll give you more blood,” he barters.

“Fine,” I squeak.

Dr. Smith guides me back to the table, and Victor rubs my back as I settle in my chair. Another forkful of cake slides past his lips with an unconvincing smile.

My nose wrinkles watching him eat until Dr. Smith clears his throat and sets the glass of water square in front of me. A whine rolls up the back of my throat, a knot forming as I unsteadily wrap my hand around the cool cup and stare into the clear water like it’s full of poison instead of me.

I focus on Victor scrutinizing the array of snacks on the table as I take my first sip. Flavorless liquid washes over my tongue, though its chill reminds me of immortal blood and makes it easier to swallow.

After Victor releases a wet cough that has me gagging on my next sip, he clears his throat and grabs the package of beef jerky from the pile.

Soft eyes trailing to mine, he murmurs, “Have some with me?”

I shake my head and swallow a large mouthful of water since I’d rather have the liquid.

“Just a bite.” He tears the bag open and fishes out a flat chunk of meat. With a begging ache in his eyes, he whispers, “Please, love . . .”

I blink back tears as I accept a small piece, setting the water down and practicing timed breaths as I stare at it. I’m only willing to consider it for Victor—to make him happy.

Daisy gives me an encouraging smile and a little nod as I bring it to my lips. I take so long to slip it onto my tongue that Dr. Smith wanders from the dining room and is now returning with the notebook and pen.

The beef jerky tastes like salty leather, tough between my teeth as I suppress a gag and force myself to chew. But Victor’s eyes are softer as he watches me eat, like he believes food will be what cures us.

He slides a thick piece between his lips to tear a chunk off and freezes. His pallid face grays—wide eyes staring through me—as he slowly draws the intact beef jerky from his mouth and sets it down.

“What’s wrong?” Dr. Smith asks, voice gruff as his eyes narrow on Victor.

I try to swallow, but the chewed piece refuses to move to the back of my tongue. Snatching a napkin, I spit it out and crumple it in a gross heap on the table.

Victor’s lips twitch. I think he’s going to say something, but he lifts trembling fingers to his mouth and reaches past his lips. My heart skips a beat when something small and white returns pinched in his grip.

Daisy gasps quietly—my breath clogged in my throat—as Victor sets a tooth down on the table. A canine with the root intact.

“It’s not bleeding,” he mumbles, so slight, it’s like he’s trying to hide the fresh hole.

Rounding the table, Dr. Smith says, “Let me see your mouth.”

Victor simply shakes his head and stares at the heavy black drape covering the dining-room window. His hand slips beneath the table to rest on my lap.

“It’s just a canine,” Victor whispers. “Likely a side effect from the changes my teeth went through to become fangs, then . . . back to none.”

Dr. Smith rakes his hands through his hair, chest rising in quick breaths like he’s trying to stave off growing anxiety. “Victor, let me look. I don’t need to be a dentist to know healthy teeth don’t slide out like that⁠—”

“It’s just a tooth,” he mumbles, fingers gripping my leg like he needs to hang on to me for stability. I cover his hand with mine as he adds, “It means nothing.”

“Victor . . .” Dr. Smith says. There’s an edge of panic around his name that has sweat sliding down my spine.

Victor looks up at him and offers a tight-lipped smile. “It’s fine, John. It’s fine.”

I freeze as Dr. Smith storms from the room, returning a beat later with the crystal glasses from the study, now each half full again with his blood. When he sets one in front of me, I don’t point out how I have yet to finish my water. Instead, I snatch it and gulp it back like he might notice first and ask me to stop.

Victor ponders the glass of crimson, offering John a hollow smile as he takes a deep breath and sips. John heaves himself down in a chair and exchanges a long look with Daisy that I can’t decipher.

Since the water isn’t moving around my belly like a beast trying to escape, I submit to the reality that my body needs it and resume the effort to finish it.

“Since the sun won’t hurt us . . .” Victor sighs and pats my leg, licking crimson from his lips as he smiles. “I think it would be nice to sit in the garden. What do you think?”

I swallow hard and bite my lip. The idea of feeling the sun on my skin again and seeing the day so bright is unnatural. A nightmare.