Because wrangling what amounts to a shit ton of testosterone with fangs is not exactly easy.
I’m completely exhausted by the time we make it back to Katmere. Hudson seems to have fallen asleep again, thank God, and I know Jaxon wants me to come to his room for a while, but all I want is my bed and about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. But since we have class tomorrow, I’ll settle for eight.
And Jaxon looks plenty fatigued himself, with dark circles under his eyes I’d only ever seen on him once before, when he first showed up in Uncle Finn’s office. I don’t know why I ever assumed Jaxon’s power was infinite. Of course it isn’t.
Still, he walks me to my room—of course he does—and once we get there, I go up on tiptoes and hug him as hard as I can.
The embrace startles him. Maybe because more often than not, lately, I’m backing away from him. Still, it takes only a second for him to wrap his arms around me and lift me off the ground in return.
As he does, he buries his face in my neck and just breathes me in. I recognize the move, because I’m doing the exact same thing to him. Even after hours of fading, he smells so good—all fresh water and oranges and Jaxon.
Then, just as suddenly, he’s several feet away, walking backward down the hallway while his eyes blaze with a dark fire that has my breath evaporating in my lungs. “Get some sleep,” he orders, “and I’ll meet you in the cafeteria tomorrow for breakfast.”
I nod and force my brain to work just long enough to string two words together. “What time?”
“Text me when you get up and let me know what works for you.”
I nod and turn to go inside, closing the door softly behind me.
“You’re back!” Macy exclaims, bouncing off her bed. “How was it? Was the Bloodletter as scary as everyone says? Is Jaxon really not afraid of her? Did she help you get rid of Hudson? Could she—” She breaks off as she gets her first good look at me. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She grabs on to my shoulders and turns me around to face the mirror on her closet door. “Maybe because you look like that?”
“Oh.” My cheeks are flushed, my curls are wild, and dark circles ring my eyes and make me look feverish. “I’m fine. Just exhausted.”
I walk over to my closet and shuck all my snow gear.
“So can I assume Hudson is gone, then?” she asks tentatively, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
“You would assume wrong,” I say, collapsing on my own bed in my long underwear and turtleneck. I know I need to take a shower, but right now I have no motivation to do anything other than sit right here and pretend the last two days—and the last four months—have just been a really long nightmare that I’m about to wake up from any second.
“What do you mean?” Macy’s eyes go huge. “He’s still in you?”
“Ugh. Please don’t ever say it like that again.” I rub a hand over my very tired eyes. “But yes, Hudson is still in my head. The Bloodletter showed me how to wall off his powers so he can’t control me anymore, but he is definitely still in there.”
“How do you know? If he’s not taking you over—”
“Because he has a new trick. He talks to me now.”
Macy looks at me like she isn’t sure how to process that new information. “He…”
“Talks to me.” I roll my eyes. “Non. Stop.”
“Like, he just talks to you?” Macy asks, and when I nod, she continues. “I mean, what’s he saying right now?”
“He’s asleep right now, but I’m sure when he wakes up, he’ll have something to say.”
“About?”
“Anything. Everything. He’s definitely a vampire with opinions. Not to mention delusions of grandeur.”
Macy laughs. “That’s pretty much every vampire everywhere. They aren’t exactly known for their humble natures.”
I think of Jaxon and Lia, Mekhi and the other members of the Order. Macy might have a point there.
“Sooooo…” Macy pauses like she doesn’t want to ask the next question but someone has to. “How are you dealing with having someone so evil inside your head? Are you okay? I mean, I know you said he can’t do anything in there anymore, but still…”
To be honest, I don’t have the energy to go down this rabbit hole right now. And I don’t know, maybe I never will. Heather’s mom told me after my parents died that it was okay not to focus on the pain, not to discuss the trauma, until I was ready. So that’s exactly what I plan on doing now.