AMANDA
The pen clatters to the floor. My breath shudders out of me in ragged, broken gasps. No. No, this isn’t right. This isn’t— Blood. Real. Warm. Wet. Dripping in slow, crimson lines down his cheek, catching on the curve of his jaw, soaking into the collar of his shirt.
Theodus touches his cheek, fingertips grazing the thin trail of blood. His golden eyes flicker, something unreadable flashing through them.
Something dangerous.
"Amanda…" His voice is softer now, but there’s something too careful about it. Too measured. Like he’s trying not to startle a wounded animal. "What’s wrong with you?"
I stumble back, the backs of my knees hitting the bedframe. My hands won’t stop shaking. I can still feel the pen in my grip, the sharp press of steel against his skin—real, real, too f*****g
