Page 117 of Bleed

The rim touches my lips, and I take a tentative sip.

Holy shit, I don’t think water has ever tasted so good.

I swallow greedily, but Taylor pulls the glass back before I can guzzle the whole thing down.

“Slowly,” she scolds.

I grunt in annoyance, wetting my lips with my tongue.

“I know,” she murmurs as she moves the glass back to my mouth. “Just… take your time, please.”

After another few sips, I push weakly against the mattress, trying to prop myself up on my elbows. My arms tremble beneath my weight, but I manage to scoot higher against the mountain of pillows behind me while Taylor hovers like she’s prepared to physically restrain me if necessary.

“What happened?” I croak, glancing around the room at the antique furniture, heavy drapes, and obnoxiously expensive-looking décor. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe,” she breathes, returning the water glass to the nightstand. “You’re at the mansion.”

I blink at her.

Well, I suppose that explains the chandelier… but it does absolutely nothing to explain why the hell I’m waking up here feeling like I’ve been hit by a fucking truck.

I close my eyes, trying to reach through the fog inside my head. There’s something there, hovering just beyond my grasp. A memory I know I should have but can’t quite capture.

“Elliott brought you,” Taylor says quietly.

My eyes open again, searching her face. Something in her expression has shifted, anger now simmering beneath her relief. Fear, too.

“He lost control, and…” She swallows hard, averting her eyes.

Just like that, the wall comes down. Memories flood back in, hitting me all at once.

Albert. The blood draw. Walking upstairs with a warm blood pouch swinging from my fingers to find Elliott hunched over the analyzer.

Glass in my heel. Pain. Then his arm around me, his fist in my hair, his fangs tearing into my throat…

Pleasure.

So much pleasure I could barely breathe, followed by cold. Fear. Trying and failing to push him away as my pulse slowed.

Elliott…

My heart lurches and I jerk upright, the room instantly pitching sideways.

“Whoa– Bex!”

“Oh, fuck.”

Taylor catches my shoulder as I flop backwards against the pillows, black spots bursting across my vision.

“Shit.” She braces a hand against my chest like she thinks I might try it again, brows pinched together in concern. “Would you stop moving?”

I squeeze my eyes shut until the room stops spinning.

“Where is he?” I whisper, opening my eyes.

Taylor’s mouth tightens as she gives a little shake of her head. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Tay…”