Page 39 of Lost and Bound

I fight to stay upright—it would be dangerous to faint now—but my eyes jump from one of my would-be attackers to the next, pausing on the liquid pooling under them. The world tilts slowly as gravity starts slipping away until everything goes black.

Regaining consciousness is never fun. Dizziness swirls in my mind as it tries to right itself, and unwanted snippets of my past taunt me. Today’s memory is bad—I’m in the ER, the doctor’s scrubs are covered by proof of how hard he tried to save my mom.

I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to sit up, to remember I’m no longer there as I whisper desperately, “No more. No more.”

I step from one nightmare and open my eyes to another.

One of Professor Cane’s friends, the vampire, is squatting in front of me. Mere inches separate us. My hand jumps to cover my throat, and he watches me, emotionless and silent.

I get I should be standing up and running but gods, he’s distractingly good-looking. His dirty-blonde hair looks like it’s been recently trimmed and suits his strong features. The five o’clock shadow dotting his jawline adds a generous sprinkle of smuttiness to his aesthetic.

Still, he watches me.

My head spins under the weight of his pretty steel-gray eyes. Maybe he’s doing the same thing the other vampire tried, lulling me into a sense of docility before he attacks . Again, I know I should feel panicked, but I don’t because despite not knowing him, I feel as though I do.

My mind races, flipping between claims he wouldn’t hurt me while also recognizing he’s a vampire who could drain me in a heartbeat. I know I should focus on his ability to destroy me in a single bite, but I’m caught in the strange insight that we share… something. My conflict, and the way he consumes my thoughts makes little sense. It must be one of his powers working. I shut my eyes and crawl away from him, severing his connection.

And it works. When I open my eyes the sense of familiarity is gone, and I’m left knowing again that I’m in a shitty, and dangerous situation. In the time he distracted me, things have gone from bad to worse. The three guys who attacked me are now unconscious. I try to stand, wanting to make sure they’re alive and breathing, but a giant black wolf keeps pacing in the distance that separates us, snarling at them and growling at me.

The vampire—that I-know-but-don’t-know—suddenly appears in front of me, and with one look he starts to ensnare me again.

I shut my eyes and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Please don’t hurt me.”

He ignores my plea. “What happened? Did you hurt them?”

My eyes fly open.

“Me?” I squeak. My gaze jumps back to them before I glance around, because the good-looking vampire said something so ridiculous I’m sure I’m being punked.

He’s not laughing, and those earlier feelings of history and intimacy I thought we shared are long gone. Instead, he’s staring at me suspiciously and vibrating with irritation. “Yeah, you.”

My hackles go up, and before I can stop myself, I scoff at his insinuation that I’m the one responsible for the unconscious students. I was the one who was attacked!

The wolf snarls, perhaps picking up on my energy, but that pisses me off too.

Rationally, I know it would be bad to lose it in front of them, they’re supes after all, and I’m nothing but the new Nom. I shut out all the noise and focus on slowing my breathing until I’m sure I won’t erupt. Only when I’ve got a hold on my emotions do I answer as calmly as possible. “I’m a Nom.”

“I know. So, how about you explain exactly what it is you did? Because those three,”—the vampire’s arm flies to point to the three supes—“are more than capable of defending themselves. Which means you’re responsible for this.”

I hear what he’s saying, but it’s so absurd I surge to my feet, swept up in indignation. The wolf circles closer but my attention is locked on the vampire who rises with me. My finger hits his chest as my anger spurts out like a geyser. “Yeah, you’re right. It was me. On my run, I thought, ‘hmm, what would make my morning complete? Oh, I know, how about I lure in some supes and see if I can get my primal kink filled?’ I was so damn close, I tell you, so damn close. They were a cat’s whisker away from being lured into my trap, but at the last minute they realized, hence all the grievous bodily injuries, then you showed up and saved the day. How’s that?”

I barely stop shouting before I twist away from them faster than a tornado. I storm off, humiliated and irrationally angry, due to his ignorant view of the scene. Of course, he thinks I’m to blame. I’m a Nom, and the scapegoat.

Perhaps hiding out in Magikster Ballin’s room for detention will be the best course of action. I can’t believe I just mouthed off to supposedly one of the strongest vampires at Thales, when the wolf—whoever he is—was close enough to hear.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

IT’S NOT ME, IT’S YOU

My hand shakes when I lift it to knock on the ancient-looking wooden door to the magikal department, and I pull away before I touch the surface. The last thing I need is to be trembling like a leaf when I show up for detention. I have a sneaking suspicion Magikster Ballin would enjoy my anxiety too much.

Closing my eyes, I breathe slowly, holding my breath before blowing it out. Triangulated breathing is a common centering exercise, and I’ve been doing it for years. After another round, I lift my hand to see if the shakes are gone.

With a final check my shields are in place, I use the black cauldron-shaped knocker to let him know I’m here, then I take a step back and wait. And wait. I could try the door handle to see if the door is unlocked, but what if waiting is a test of something, and when I open the door, he turns me into a toad as punishment? Considering I don’t trust Magikster Ballin, I remain standing in the corridor, waiting.

Maybe five or ten minutes later, the sound of a door opening snaps me to attention. The sound of hurried footsteps echoing toward me winds my anxiety levels up again. It doesn’t help that most of the overhead lights are off because it’s Sunday morning.

The being turns the corner, and despite the distance and bad lighting, it’s easy to see from their silhouette it’s not Magikster Ballin. While the person is still tall, their shape is fit, heavy but not old-man bulky. The guy walking toward me is wearing a hoodie and jeans. When he steps out from the shadows, my heart skips a beat, and I suddenly wish it was Magikster Ballin.