Хлоя Нейл: Hard Bitten

“Not especially,” I quietly answered, but let him take my hand in his, entwine our fingers together.

“Well, I believe, if I were alive, I’d be hurt by that.”

“I believe, if you were alive, that you’d manage, Sullivan.”

He chuckled, and I grinned at the sound of his laughter. I closed my eyes again as we lay in the grass, hands linked between us, sun above us, baking in the warmth of the afternoon.

My eyes were still closed when he screamed my name.

Merit!

I woke gasping, thunder booming as rain pelted the window. I jumped out of bed and threw on the light, positive the voice I’d heard— his voice—had come from inside my room.

It had seemed so real. He had seemed so real.

But my room was empty.

Dusk had fallen again, and he was gone. I fell back in bed, my heart pounding against my chest, and stared at the ceiling, body aching with the remembrance of loss.

But even the ache of remembrance was far better than the empty vacuum of grief. He was gone. But I knew now that he’d been the man I’d come to believe in. I had the memories of him, and if dreams were the only way I could remember him, be with him, so be it.

After scrubbing my face clean and pulling my hair into a ponytail, I pulled on clean clothes and headed downstairs. The House was quiet, as it had been for two weeks. The mood was somber, the vampires still grieving for their lost captain.

But for the first time in two weeks, I walked through the House like a vampire warrior, not a zombie. I walked with purpose, my heart still rent by grief, but at least now the emotion was clean, without the confusing additions of anger and hatred.

The door to the office was closed.

Malik’s office now.

For the first time, I lifted my hand and knocked.

It was time to get back to work.