Page 95 of Those That Defy the Realm

He starts with my left arm, the one closest to his body where he’s kneeling beside the bed.

Managing to tilt my head down, I look on in horror and Henry lifts my hand very slowly. The pain is nearly unbearable but it’s dulled by the sight. The lower half of my forearm is coated in bright red, a jagged wound visible across the inside of my wrist.

I have no idea how Henry is going to help me, for surely I am close to bleeding out. There’s a moment where I panic as he lifts my wrist a little higher to meet his mouth. I spot his fangs just before his lips seal over the wound.

When he said it’ll be over soon, did he mean because he was going to put me out of this misery? Was he going to drink the remaining blood in my veins, kill me as a kindness because I’m beyond saving?

The first sucking pull he makes against my wrist has me convinced he’s doing just that, and I almost come to peace with it. But instead of feeling a second draw from him, I feel a pressure against the wound. The pad of Henry’s tongue laps slowly against my wrist and the burning starts to slow. I don’t know what magic he’s weaving, but the heat cools to that of a sunburn, which is a welcome sensation after the last however long I’ve been enduring the volcanic levels or searing pain.

Henry moves to my left leg, the wound there sitting behind my knee. He gives it the same treatment and my breaths become a little easier as my body finally cools.

That is until he says, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m going to move you to get to your other side.”

As gently as possible, he helps me sit up and turn on the bed. Now I’m more lucid, I take in the fact it’s a single and one side is pushed up against a wall. The only light source in the room is coming from a dim orange lamp on a small stool next to the bed. It’s the only furniture in here, not that anything would fit. The walls are an oppressive cream and would barely be wider than an arm-span.

Henry gets to work on my other limbs, working quickly and methodically. I listen out for any other sounds beyond the room, but the dark hallway outside is eerily quiet. It’s a blessing, really, as with the door smashed open, anyone would be able to see Henry tending to me. And I don’t think whoever locked me in here intended for him to close my wounds.

“Where are we?” I ask as the male vampire finishes sealing the final wound on my wrist and helps me to sit up once more.

“Deep in the hideout of the West Scotian Vampires, which is technically under the central casino.”

I don’t remember being transported here at all. Fear, or confusion, must show clearly on my face as Henry gently cups my cheek.

“Did they…” I pause to take a shuddering breath to gather enough courage to ask the question that I’ve been refusing to acknowledge but one that explains how I’m still breathing despite the blood flowing out of my veins. “Did they try to turn me?”

“I think so, but barbarically so. I’m so sorry.” Henry’s voice cracks as he apologises again.

“You… you don’t need to be sorry,” I say, finding talking exhausting.

“Claire, I swear to you, I’m going to try my best to get you out. I don’t want to make any promises as we are currently in a lot of fucking danger, but I will fight to my end to see you get out of here.”

Tears well in my eyes, blurring the honesty written in his. “Henry…” I don’t know where I’m going with the sentence, the emotions that rush back to the surface now that I’m not in crippling pain, blank out all my thoughts. But it doesn’t matter. Henry pulls me into him and wraps his arms around me. I’m too weak to sob but a whimper escapes my throat as the tears escape through my eyelashes.

“I need you to know, nothing—absolutely nothing—happened between Rory and me. We got very drunk, and I know what it looked like to you, and I’m not dismissing that but it wasn’t anything of the sort.”

Finding an ounce of strength, I put my hand to his chest and push out of his hold, he lets me go easily. “How can I trust that?”

As much as I’m relieved beyond words that he came for me, that he is trying to rescue me, the betrayal still simmers underneath.

“Because I’d rather die, right here and now, than have you experience any more pain. You and Ash are my entire reason for being.”

“But you didn’t want me to turn.”

“What?” he says, shocked. “Of course I want you to turn.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“Because it is your choice. Looking back on that evening, I think I gave you too much space. I didn’t want you to feel pushed or manipulated into making a decision. Giving up your humanity is a huge deal. I made that decision in the face of death: you were given it with your entire life ahead of you. I love you, and want to be with you always, but if that means a human life span, or a vampire’s, it doesn’t matter to me. Only that for as long as you love me, I will be by your side.”

My heart thumps in my chest, working harder than it should with the blood loss I’ve had. Even with the grief of betrayal, I know it only hurts so much because my heart beats for him still, him and Ash both.

“You and Rory really didn’t sleep together?”

“No, Claire. I could never do that to you. You’re my mate.” My eyes widen at the word. “At least, that’s what I want. You, and Ash, mate bonded to me. Not being able to sense you for the last day and a half has been torture. No one, and I mean no one, even comes close to the two of you. Rory is my family, my sister. You and Ash are my soulmates.”

“I’m sorry.” The words burst from my lips as I wrap myself around him this time.

“You don’t need to be sorry.”