Page 42 of Blood Bond

It sends shivers through me, stirring memories I'd rather forget.

Compelled by an instinct I'm unsure of, I approach her. Maybe I shouldn't, maybe my presence alone causes her distress, but no one else is attending to her. Elena is preoccupied with Theo, while Seth and Killian are wrapped up in their own concerns, and, of course, in each other.

"Layla …" I start, reaching out to touch her shoulder, to turn her to face me.

"Don't," she pleads. "Please …" Her eyes, red and bloodshot, meet mine, revealing her inner turmoil. She's a mere shadow of the vibrant woman I met on that first night. We seem to have switched places—I see in her the same shock, weariness, and fear that I felt when I first entered the skin trade, lost and frightened in an alien world.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

She shakes her head, pushing me away, yet her hands slide down to mine. Unintentionally, our fingers intertwine. My perception shifts, the real world blurring as my mind takes over. I take a deep breath, trying to anchor myself, battling the onslaught of emotions.

It's cold, dark, and the relentless rain hasn't ceased for days. Hunger and exhaustion aren't my feelings; they're Layla's, experienced indirectly. "Layla …" I repeat.

It's as if I'm standing right beside her, able to touch her essence.

She's curled up on the wet ground, wrapped in a coat, shivering. Her eyes are shut tight, lips tinged an eerie shade of blue. The air reeks of fresh blood—hers. Leaning against a bin, she uses it for shelter from the rain and support for her weary body.

A man enters the alley, pausing at its entrance, hands in pockets. He looks around as if checking for observers before disappearing into the shadows.

As he towers over her, her eyes widen with fear. She shakes her head, blood streaking down her face, diluted by the rain into her jacket. Her once-bright hair is matted with blood.

She clutches the side of her neck, blood oozing from the wound. The man—Seth, inhales sharply, drawn here by the scent of blood. His fangs are exposed, yet he isn't biting her; he's observing.

"Please …" her voice is a weak plea.

I see more of her story unfold like pieces of a puzzle. Her coat falls open, revealing the little she wears underneath and her body, marked with bruises. The blood from her neck has trickled down, staining her skin. The bruises on her thighs speak volumes of her ordeal.

She struggles to swallow, to breathe. Each deep breath she takes seems to exact a toll. "Please … kill me …"

Seth's vampire precision is evident as he gently takes her hand from her neck. Each movement he makes is deliberate, calculated. He examines the wound on her throat; the skin is torn, the muscles visible as if someone has savagely tried to rip it out.

She coughs, her eyes rolling back, and more blood spurts out. Seth crouches beside her, his hand not to feed but to help, yet the potential for more is there.

"I can save you," he says. "I can make it all better."

Her eyes meet his, filled with a profound desperation. She weakly lifts her hand.

"Do you want me to?"

"Help me …" she begs. "Please …"

Seth rolls up the sleeve of his arm, as I saw him do within the glass case.

His silver, blade-like fangs glint in the dim light as he bites into his own wrist with fierce determination. Blood wells up, a vibrant crimson, seeping from the wound. He extends his bleeding arm towards her, offering his own blood as a means of salvation.

Her eyes widen, a tumult of fear and desperate hope swirling within them. She trembles as she reaches towards Seth's wrist, her fingers hesitating above the throbbing vein. The scent of her blood fills the air, mingling with the damp earthiness of the rain-soaked alley.

"Drink," he whispers, his voice a soft, haunting melody resonating through her broken spirit. "Take my blood, be reborn."

She hesitates, uncertainty shadowing her delicate features. The burden of her suffering weighs heavily upon her, threatening the fragile ember of life flickering within. Yet, in a moment of introspection, a spark of resilience kindles within her.

With a resolve born of desperation, she clasps Seth's wrist with both hands, bringing it to her lips. Her tongue tentatively meets the wound, tasting the metallic richness of his blood before she drinks eagerly. The elixir floods her mouth, a bittersweet nectar, overwhelming her senses. Seth's life force surges through her, igniting her skin with an electrifying warmth.

As she drinks, the world around her fades into a hazy abyss. Time loses its hold, replaced by an intense rush of sensations, memories, and desires swirling in her mind.

I feel the transformation as if it were my own; Seth's blood is altering her.

He watches, a complex mix of anticipation and concern on his face. A subtle transformation unfolds within her, her pallid complexion gaining a rosy flush, a newfound vitality emanating from her being.

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