Gena Showalter - Unravelled

“Yes, but he still talks to himself. And today, well, he lost himself inside his mind. I would hardly call that ‘better than ever,’ Mr. Reeves. Would you?”

Dan stuffed his hands in his pockets, going all “well, shucks,” on the doctor, a sign Aden recognized as growing annoyance. “We all occasionally regress, as you said, but he’s pulling himself together.”

“That’s the pills.”

“That’s the boy’s strength of will.”

Slowly Aden relaxed, rubbed a hand over his face. His vision was slightly blurred, his movements sluggish, but at least his mind was quiet. Still. Poor souls.

The two men continued their conversation a while longer, until finally it was decided that Aden would attend class, then immediately be driven to Dr. Hennessy’s office for a session.

Great. Those sessions were nothing but a pain in the ass. The good doctor always wanted to touch him. Nothing overt, and nothing too creepy, just a handholding, skin-to-skin thing. That, on top of the fact that he had to be in therapy at all, aggravated the piss right out of him.

At last the men left, and Aden gingerly sat up. His stomach burned as if a fire had been set there, and that burn rose into his throat, his brain. More fog, more dizziness. He closed his eyes. In the distance, a wolf howled.

So he hadn’t imagined the howling. Riley must be nearby.

“S-sorry, man,” he heard Shannon say.

His lids cracked open, and he saw that Shannon was beside the bed and crouched in front of him, his features tight with concern.

“D-didn’t want to get Dan, but didn’t k-know what

else to do. You were really o-out of it. Never seen you l-like that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He blinked, doing his best to focus. “What time is it?” “About ten-thirty.”

That late? Wow. Riley really would be here any minute. How was Aden going to sneak out now? Dan would check up on him throughout the night, Aden knew that he would. Apparently, that’s what people who cared about you did. Checked on you. It was new and wonderful and yet, hell on the social life.

Something clanked against the window, and both Aden and Shannon turned. The glass rose, then Riley was there, smoothly climbing through. He was dressed in a black suit, was cleanly shaven and had his hair arranged in perfect spikes. In his arms, he clutched what looked to be a garment bag.

“Shannon,” he acknowledged with a stiff nod.

Shannon, who was used to Aden’s nightly visitors, nodded in return. “Riley.”

“I’ve gotta borrow our boy for a little while.”

Shannon frowned. “He’s b-been sick and needs his r-rest.”

Riley frowned, too, gaze darting to Aden. “Sick? Again? How? ”

“Again?” Shannon’s focus swung back to Aden. “When were you s-sick before? What was wrong?”

Oh, yeah. Aden hadn’t explained—or lied, as he’d planned—so Shannon had no idea how iffy things had been for him.

“Shannon,” a musical female voice said from just beyond the window. Victoria had arrived. “You are tired. You must sleep now.”

“Sleep,” the boy muttered, yawning. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired.” He scaled to the top of the bunk bed and lay down. He was softly snoring a few seconds later.

So much power in one little voice, Aden thought. A voice she used liberally, but always to help him, so he didn’t want to complain. Even though a part of him sometimes feared she’d one day use that voice against him. How would he combat the compulsion to do what she wanted if, like, he made her mad and she told him to do something tragic?

Don’t think like that. She cares about you.

He blamed the drugs for his illicit thoughts.

Still outside, she moved backward one step, two, though remained in a beam of light spilling from the room. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, he noticed, and several ringlets framed her pale face. Her eyes had been outlined in black and black glitter sprinkled on her lids. His favorite? Her lips were painted bloodred.

From what he could see, she wore a silky black robe with thin straps on both shoulders and a neckline that dipped low in the center. New favorite, he thought. He even liked the metal bands winding around her biceps like thin, bejeweled snakes. She was breathtaking.

Mine. The thought was his own, no one else’s. Because she was. His.

“Aden,” Riley said, claiming his attention. “You were sick? ”

Aden nodded, and had to blink against the sudden renewal of dizziness. Stupid pills. He explained what had happened, what had been done to him. How he’d been drugged.

Riley shook his head. “I don’t know how you deal with all those voices anyway. But don’t beat yourself up about it. One slip-up in how long? A year or more? That’s reason to celebrate. You know, at a vampire mansion. Like, now.”

At least the wolf wasn’t snarling at him. “Help him dress, and I’ll ensure Dan stays away from this room for the rest of the night,” Victoria said from her outer post, and then was gone.

Riley unzipped the bag he held. “I seriously hope you’re not going to make me do all the work.”

“Please. I’d have to be dead to let you put your hands on me.” Aden stood—and almost tumbled back on his bed, his knees were so weak, but he managed to remain upright, and held out his hands. Several articles of clothing were thrust at him.

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