“Vessel loving bitch,” he snarled. “You’re so fucking loyal to him, and he follows you around like a puppy, doesn’t he? But where was he during the Reaping, Willow?”
“Are you finished?” I asked, feigning disinterest, even though the reminder was like a stab to the heart. It hurt more than any of the physical wounds they’d managed to inflict, serving as the reminder I needed.
Gray could and would have my body. But he would never have my heart.
Because he didn’t have one to give me in return.
“Yeah, we’re done,” he said, pulling my head away from the floor with his hold on my hair. He slammed it back against the stone, making my vision swim for a moment.
Then it went dark.
I crawled up the steps, taking them one at a time as my body fought to pull itself up. I couldn’t quite get to my feet, using the railing at the side to help me when I finally reached the top. His room was closer than the earth at the bottom, and I knew I was going to regret the choice when he hunted them down and killed them all the next day.
Why would he bother? That nagging voice in the back of my mind needed to shut the fuck up, needing to keep out of my business.
I let go of the railing, sprawling across the floor in front of his door. I was shocked to find he hadn’t already felt my pain, that his blood in me hadn’t been enough to alert him to what happened. Maybe he’d hoped they would finish the job and he wouldn’t be held responsible because of our bargain. Even with that condemning thought dancing in my head, I pulled myself toward his room, seeking the one place I felt even remotely safe.
I didn’t want to think about that.
I pulled myself to his door, slumping against it and raising my arm just high enough to knock on it as firmly as I could manage. Sleep pulsed at the edge of my vision, trying to pull me under as I waited.
“Willow,” he said, but his voice didn’t come from behind the door. It came from behind me, his footsteps quick as he darted down from the stairway that curved ever higher into the upper levels. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
He knelt in front of me, touching his fingers to my nose and wincing. My eyes drifted closed, the darkness trying to swallow me whole all over again. His deep sigh was half a rumble, a growl that seemed to echo through the halls. “Fucking Hell,” he muttered, reaching down and gathering me into his arms.
“Had nowhere else to go,” I mumbled, leaning against his chest as he pulled me to my feet long enough to get the door open. He shuffled me in, closing it behind him before he smoothly lifted me into his arms. “Think we’ve been here before.” My laugh was humorless as he brought me to his bed, laying me atop the surface.
He didn’t answer, bringing his wrist to his mouth and biting it as he swam in and out of a fuzzy circle. “Drink,” he said, offering it to me. I hesitated, and I could see him just enough to watch as he rolled his eyes. “I think it’s time you acknowledge that it is too late to save yourself from me, love.”
I opened, nausea swirling in my gut as he pressed his wrist to my mouth tightly. He shifted, bringing it to me and letting his blood pour in. I screamed around him as my nose shifted, healing with a snap.
“Who?” he asked, staring down at me as I drank.
The haze began to lift, leaving me all-too-aware of the rage simmering behind those steely eyes. I swallowed down more of his blood, moaning as it became something else. He pulled his wrist back, depriving me of taking more and more, until I could no longer tell what blood was his and what was mine.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, shaking my head as I grabbed him by the front of his black shirt. I tugged him toward me, letting him taste the mix of his blood and mine. He groaned, pulling back with a shake of the head.
“It matters to me. Who did this? Was it Susannah?” he asked, helping me sit up. He guided me out of the bed, bringing me to the bathroom as he stripped my shirt over my head.
I giggled, feeling like my limbs were far too light in the aftermath of his blood. I raised one to touch his nose, poking it teasingly.
“Are you going to fuck me, Headmaster?”
“Fucking Hell, Willow,” he grunted, pulling my shorts down my thighs. I was naked without them, leaving me nude in front of him for the second time in one night. “Someone just tried to kill you.”
“If that was what they wanted, I’d be dead,” I said, leaning into him. My naked breasts pressed against his shirt, the soft fabric of it making my nipples pebble. He growled as if he felt it, the hint of fangs peeking out. “You’ve had me naked twice, and somehow I am still unfucked.”