Blood and Biochemistry

Chapter16

Adrain

“He put his hand back after she moved it?”

“Yes.”

“And you let him keep the hand?”

“Mason.”

“I’m only asking.”

Oliver leaned back in his chair. “You showed restraint.”

The words should have sounded approving.

They didn’t.

They sounded surprised.

“I am always restrained.”

Mason and Oliver exchanged a look.

I left before either of them could respond.

The bedroom was dark when I entered. Evangeline had already changed and climbed beneath the purple bedding on the bed opposite mine. The fairy lights around her headboard cast a muted glow across the room, softening the unfamiliar additions that had appeared since she moved in: romance novels stacked on the nightstand, a discarded hair tie beside her pink mug, and a sweater draped over the back of her desk chair.

She lay facing the wall, her breathing too uneven for sleep.

I removed my jacket and hung it neatly in the wardrobe. Then I sat on the edge of my bed and opened the book I had abandoned before leaving for the party.

I read the same paragraph twelve times.

Neither of us spoke.

Eventually, Evangeline’s breathing slowed. I waited until it settled into a rhythm that would have convinced anyone else she was asleep.

It did not convince me.

At two forty-eight, her mattress shifted.

I kept my eyes on the page as she pushed back the blankets and crossed the room. Moose, who had positioned himself on the rug between our beds, raised his head and followed her into the hallway.

A moment later, a cabinet opened in the kitchen, followed by the sound of a glass placed beneath the faucet.

I should have remained where I was.

Instead, I set the book aside and followed.

Evangeline stood at the counter in purple sleep shorts and an oversized Ravenwood sweatshirt. I tried not to notice the bare stretch of skin at her legs or the way the loose fabric slipped off one shoulder, but my attention kept catching on it anyway, something unhelpful tightening in my chest at the sight of her without makeup, her hair falling freely around her shoulders. Moose sat beside her, watching every movement.

She startled when she saw me.

“Sorry.”

The apology emerged automatically.

I leaned against the doorway. “You’re allowed to be in the kitchen.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

She looked down at the glass in her hands.

“No.”

The honesty surprised both of us.

I crossed the room and opened the refrigerator, though I needed nothing from it. The mundane action gave her somewhere else to direct her attention.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked.

“I wasn’t trying.”

“That sounds unhealthy.”

“It has never caused a problem.”

She took a sip of water. “You say things like an eighty-year-old man.”

I closed the refrigerator.

“Eighty?”

“Ninety, maybe.”

“How fortunate that I look so young.”

Her lips curved faintly.

Silence returned, but it was gentler than the one in the truck.

She turned the glass between her hands. “I keep replaying it.”

I understood too well.

“You will for a while.”

Her brows drew together. “That’s not very comforting.”

“I wasn’t attempting to lie to you.”

“No. I guess not.”

Moose lowered himself to the floor between us.

Evangeline looked toward the dark living room. “I feel stupid.”

“You are not.”

“I let it go on too long.”

“You were trying to understand what was happening.”

“I knew what was happening.”

“Knowing and accepting are different things.”

She studied me.

For a moment, I wondered whether I had revealed too much.

Then she looked back at her water.

“I kept waiting for him to realize I was serious.”

“He realized.”

“Eventually.”

“No. He realized before I arrived.”

Her grip tightened around the glass.

“He simply decided what you wanted mattered less than what he wanted.”

The truth was cruel, but softening it would not help her.

She absorbed it in silence.

“I hate that,” she said finally.

“So do I.”

Her eyes lifted to mine.

The anger rose again, sudden and vivid. Jasper’s pulse beneath my fingers. His expression when he understood he could not pull free.

I turned away.

Evangeline noticed.

“Are you okay?”

The question was so unexpected that I almost laughed.

“You are asking me?”

“You look angry.”

“I am.”

“At me?”

I faced her immediately.

“No.”

She waited.

The answer had been too quick, too forceful. Still, she seemed to believe it.

“Then at him?”

“Yes.”

“And yourself.”

I said nothing.

She exhaled through her nose. “I’m starting to figure you out.”

“That would be an impressive achievement.”

“You blame yourself for everything too.”

“I do not.”

“You said you should’ve been there sooner.”

“I should have.”

“You came at exactly the time we agreed.”

“You were already uncomfortable.”

“How were you supposed to know that?”

I could have told her.

I could have said that I should have known because the Claim had made her presence feel like a constant pressure beneath my skin from the moment she moved into our room. I could have admitted that I knew the cadence of her steps, the scent of her shampoo, and the exact rhythm of her heart when she was anxious.

Instead, I said, “I was responsible for bringing you home safely.”

“You did.”

“I was late.”

“You came.”

Her voice was quiet, but certain.

The words struck with more force than they should have.

Evangeline set the glass in the sink. “That matters more.”

She walked past me toward the hallway. Moose rose to follow, then paused long enough to look back at me.

For once, he didn’t growl.

“Good night, Adrian,” Evangeline said.

“Good night.”

I allowed her enough time to return to bed before following.

The room was still lit by her fairy lights when I entered. She lay beneath the purple blankets, facing away from me, while Moose circled twice on the rug before settling between our beds again.

I lay down fully clothed and stared at the ceiling.

Her breathing remained uneven for another twenty-three minutes.

Then, at last, it softened into sleep.

I waited longer.

Only when I was certain she would not wake did I rise without a sound.

The brass key beneath my shirt felt warm from contact with my skin. I drew it free and crossed to the locked closet on my side of the room.

For several seconds, I did nothing.

Evangeline shifted beneath her blankets.

I froze.

Her breathing never changed.

Carefully, I inserted the key.

The lock opened with a familiar click, too quiet for human ears. I slipped inside and closed the door behind me before turning on the small lamp.

Cold air touched my face as the refrigerator hummed in the enclosed darkness. Shelves lined the walls around it, crowded with journals, letters, photographs, and objects that had outlived everyone who had once touched them.

Only a few feet away, on the other side of the door, Evangeline slept beneath purple blankets and fairy lights.

I sat on the floor between two centuries of grief.

The blood bags inside the refrigerator remained untouched.

I had fed the previous night. There was no physical reason for hunger.

Still, my throat burned.

Not because I needed blood.

Because for one terrible moment in that house, I had wanted Jasper’s.

I had wanted to hear his pulse stop beneath my hand. I had wanted to remove every finger that had touched her and make certain he could never use them again.

The Claim had roared its approval.

Mine.

The word no longer felt like an instinct I could dismiss.

It felt like a promise waiting for me to become weak enough to keep it.

I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes.

Tonight, I had wanted blood more than I had in years.

Not from hunger. From rage.

And for the first time since Evangeline Harper entered my home, I understood that she might not be the one in danger.