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He wasn’t there, of course. It was the middle of the day.
I made my unsteady way out to the hall, then a bank of elevators that I knew were guarded.
The druid there gave me a startled look.
I knew I was a sight. Blood on my neck, likely on my clothes, wild hair, wilder eyes, breath ragged. Tears running down my face.
“Are you hurt?” the guard asked. “What’s happened?”
I shook my head, feeling disoriented but determined. “Get Dom. Tell him I need him.”
I didn’t wait to see what he’d do, just went back to Dom’s room.
I meant to strip off my bloody clothes before I climbed into the bed, but couldn’t find the energy.
It was less than five minutes later, and I was laying on my back, knees draped off the side of the bed, tears running in unhindered rivulets down my cheeks, when Dom burst into the room.
He was at my side, hand at my neck, eyes scanning me for injury.
“What happened? Where are you hurt?”
Everywhere, I wanted to say. Every part of me hurt.
“Dom,” I gasped, reaching for him.
He resisted at first when I tried to pull him to me, still concerned that I was injured. I kept pulling.
“I’ve done something terrible, and I’m sorry. But I’ve been punished for it, and I can’t take the pain. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“So much. But mostly for leaving you like that, for the way I made you suffer, for making you think I’d betrayed you. It hurts. It hurts so much.”
He was kissing my tears away and soothing me. “We’ve been over that again and again. I forgive you. We’re past it. You want another bit of comfort to help you work through it? Even all the years we’ve lost are just a blink in the expanse of our eternity together.”
It was a comfort. And I felt all the more guilty for it.
“You don’t understand,” I told him. “I felt it. I felt your pain as you did, and it was more than I could bear.”
He froze, raised his head as horror filled his eyes. “Jillian, tell me what you’ve done.”
“It’s The Grove…”
“What about it?” he asked and anger was mixing with the horror now.
“It’s been taking my blood.”
“How?”
“I let it.”
“Why? Why on earth would you put yourself at that thing’s mercy?”
“For memories.”
“Memories? What memory could possibly be worth that kind of price?”
“There were several, actually. Your memories.”
