Annie Nicholas - Bait

“He’s made you happy. I can barely hear your grief. Even my visions of death don’t stir it.” He gripped a handful of my hair and yanked it so far back I had to arch my torso to prevent him snapping me in two.

I groaned at the strain on my back. My hands tried to find purchase but only found his arms to grasp. I wanted to give him what he wanted but didn’t know how. It made me ache with incompetence.

“We’ll have to fix this. I want to taste the salty grief that almost drowned you when we met.” His fangs dragged and scraped the tender skin of my neck. “Let’s explore this together and dig it back up. It was so fresh, it couldn’t have healed in this short span of time.” Pressure built in my head as Dragos sank himself into my memories. “I think this is the source of your grief.”

Dragos and Budapest disappeared, replaced by a heart monitor on a hospital nightstand. The soft blips sounded familiar and the smell, of something dying, filled the room. I turned, already expecting what would be there.

Laurent, my deceased husband, lay in a hospital bed. Blankets pulled up to his waist, his exposed arms so thin and skeletal. The cancer had eaten away all of his strength.

A mass of wild blond curls rested next to his lap on the other side of the bed. He twirled one around his finger then let it fall away only to start over again, a bitter sweet smile on his face.

The head of hair stirred and lifted from the bed. I watched myself rub the sleep from my eyes.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Laurent touched my face.

“Nonsense, I’d have been upset if you let me sleep too long. Are you hurting? Do you need the nurse?”

“I’m all right, Connie. You really should get more sleep.”

“I get plenty of sleep.” The lie sat in the room like an elephant. At the time I believed myself. But as I looked at the dark circles under my eyes and my own weight loss I knew I’d only fooled myself. Laurent could see my suffering no matter how hard I tried to conceal it.

That hurt. A lot.

I reached for an open book that sat on the bedside table. “Do you want me to continue reading to you?” The Princess Bride scrawled across the cover in bold letters. He’d given it to me on our first date. I’d been more in a Romeo and Juliet kind of mood that day but we both loved this story.

He nodded. “As you wish, but lay next to me.” He tried to scoot over but the pain made him grimace.

“Let me help.” My younger self raced around the bed to help him shift over then I crawled in next to him.

He placed his head above my heart and snuggled in tight. His left hand caressed my breast until the nipple budded.

“How can I read with you fooling around?”

“I may be dying but I’m not dead.” His chuckle tore my heart apart just like it did then. He glanced at my face and sucked in a breath. “Oh baby, don’t cry.” He pulled me down and kissed the tears that rolled over my cheeks.

“That’s not funny.” I sounded choked up on tears.

I’d buried this day deep, deep in my subconscious. I didn’t want to be here, I couldn’t survive this again. I wasn’t strong enough yet to face this moment.

The last time we’d made love.

I tried to get out, but the room had no door. The pleasant noises from the bed drove me mad with guilt. I couldn’t watch my younger self with my dead husband. This was why memories faded. How could I have continued living without him? I pressed my hands to my ears and curled up in a corner but I could still hear his climax.

The sound changed, it became shriller. I recognized it. Time had shifted to a few days later. The heart monitor no longer blipped. I uncurled myself and approached his bed.

Dead. Just as I remembered it.

The horrid ear piercing cries came from the younger me on the other side of the bed. A nurse tried to console her but I was beyond that. Grief held me prisoner, then and now. Neither of us had any family, only each other.

I was alone.

I don’t know who howled louder at this point, me or the vision of me. Whatever healed since his death, ripped open. I knelt by the side of his bed, grasped his cold hand, and cried as if I’d never been through this before.

Alone, again.

A ripple of laughter cut through my grief. “Much better, Rabbit. This isn’t the source though but I see it now.” Dragos ’ voice pulled me from Laurent’s bedside.

Instead, I knelt on the grass in a cemetery. I recognized the place even though I hadn’t been there in ages. A cold dread seeped into me. Quiet weeping to my left drew my attention. A teenage Connie Bence sat on the fresh dirt covering a grave, all alone. My grandmother, my grandma, the only family I grew up with and knew of. I wanted to tell my younger self that everything would be all right. In a few years we’d meet a great guy who’d set us straight. Who’d show us there really were good people in the world. That they weren’t a myth.

Helpless, I watched the younger me draw away from the world. Left in New York City, known for eating its young and destroying their innocence, to fend for myself.

This grief didn’t stab me like the other but Dragos was right, it all started here.

I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. What happiness I knew became a forgotten memory.

A sudden sharp pain in my neck snatched me from my inner turmoil. Dragos ended the torture, satisfied at last with my state of mind. My blood salty enough with grief for him to feed.

He drank deep, his arms holding me fast and tight as he pulled my life’s essence from my body.

I didn’t struggle, I wanted it to end. It felt right to give him what he wanted.

Moans of pleasure emanated from Dragos. He bit down harder to increase the flow.

The pain caused me to cry out. It helped clear some of the fog clouding my reason. Why would I want Dragos to drink from me? He would kill me with his thirst. Laurent and my grandmother would never want me to give up.

The face of my new love returned, a fresh start, and a chance for a happily ever after. I’d left Rurik chained to a stone pillar, weak from being bled, to face the dawn. Then I crawled and undressed for Dragos? Worse, I let him touch me.

When did I lose my mind?

This triggered a cascade of memory blocks, the ones Tane built to hide our intentions. They crashed one after another. Colby’s rescue, Tane’s plan, and my involvement in both rushed back to me. I drank the drug and Dragos now drank me but I had failed to release my hero.

Shit.

I wedged my hand between the two of us and pushed Dragos ’ chest. Even at full strength I wouldn’t have been able to break free of his hold but I wiggled in his grasp and shoved his face. Another lightheaded spell came over me. It interrupted my weak struggles and felt different than the other ones. This time a wave of nausea accompanied it with a bone deep weariness.

He’d drawn too much blood.

Short of breath, I tried to attract his attention, to make him stop. “You’re killing me. You won’t be able to feed from me again.”

His sucking eased as he pulled away from my neck. “Good point, my little Rabbit.” He cocked his head and licked the wound then paused as if to listen to something.

My heart fluttered like a fledgling batting its wings. Pressure built on my chest as if someone sat on it. It became more difficult to breath.

“It may already be too late.” He traced a finger under my chin to stabilize the wobble in my neck. “I could cross you over as a replacement for Elizabeth, an eye for eye kind of deal.”

“No.”

“Not that I blame you for killing her. She didn’t have the right to destroy what’s mine and you do belong to me, Rabbit. Rurik presented you as a gift, remember?” Our eyes met. “I should reward you for disposing Elizabeth for me. She was such a possessive pest.” A glaze veiled his eyes.