Page 25 of Speechless

Bad girls did. Bad girls were bad for a reason.

“Blood pressure, Sarah, before the reading is compromised. So many triggers every which way we turn,” Connor murmured, and eased the blankets down, baring one bony shoulder. He grasped her arm gently, held on when she pulled away from the pressure cuff. “It will feel tight, Jenna. The pressure tightens and releases while the machine works. It’s not going to hurt you.”

A memory slipped free from behind the wall Sire had spent months erecting in her mind. A long-lost freezeframe of her past she could barely remember.

Sitting in a sunny room, perched on a knee with her arm outstretched just like this. A thick black cuff around her small, slender, unmarked arm. Giggling as the puff-puff-puff of air filling the band matched the rhythmic squeeze.

A warm, feminine voice in her ear, telling her to sit still, that she’d have a lollipop if she was a good girl. So much love in the tone, a blanket of security and home comforts.

Giggling became a high-pitch squeal of indignation followed by hot, confused tears as a sharp sting of pain ruined the moment. The female voice stayed calm and soft. Lips pressed against the child’s temple, and she smelled lilacs.

With a jerk, Jenna came back into herself. Like sand through her fingers, the memory remained cupped in her mind for a brief few seconds before it trickled away, broke apart, left her lost and desperate to reclaim the shard of her past.

Connor’s hand curved around her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears she shed for a young girl who’d come to lose everything, including herself. Instinct turned her face into the wide palm, her own hands lifting to hold his wrist, grasp his fingers.

“All right, baby. There’s no shame in being scared.” His other hand collared her throat and, as she recoiled, caressed the thin skin where her pulse jittered. “You don’t have to be, not anymore. I give you my word on that.”

She wanted to tell him about the memory, to give it to him to hold so he could give it back when she needed it. But the words still refused to come, and the details shimmered back into the dark recesses of her troubled mind, lost to the shadows and the demons that guarded them.

Tears slowed, died. Dried on her cheeks. Mourning for a life she hadn’t remembered for a long time was a waste of energy. What was the point? Sire had stolen her from her life and made damned sure she couldn’t use happy memories to carry her through the bad times.

Somehow, he’d known when she had, and taken the belt to her hard enough she couldn’t differentiate between life and death. Eventually, thinking of her loved ones caused more pain than forgetting them.

“Caleb will be here in ten minutes,” Sarah muttered, setting a covered tray beside Connor’s arm. “I know he’s your brother and the sheriff, Con, but he has a way of getting her hackles rising.”

“I know. He has a way of riling everyone up when he’s in the mood.”

“In the room,” the nurse corrected with a curl of her lip. “I can try to hold him off for a few minutes, but I can’t promise I won’t deck the sanctimonious prick if he starts throwing his weight around.”

“I’ll deal with him if he does. Is everything there?” Connor’s eyes slid toward Sarah, and Jenna sucked in a shaky breath. She was getting good at deciphering the glances and looks between them.

“Everything’s ready. Want me to, ah, step out?”

“No, not this time.” The hand around her neck shifted, skimmed over Jenna’s hair and down to the nape of her neck. “We got in a bit of mess last time, you and I, didn’t we? We’re not going to do that again, because it hurt both of us and I don’t want to see you suffer like that. Ever.”

Jenna swallowed miserably, trying to turn her head away from those all-seeing, all-knowing gray eyes, but Connor held her securely. Telling herself to be brave, to trust him, to be obedient and not make him regret saving her didn’t really work.

“We need some blood samples,” he told her directly, soothing her when she shuddered. “Once I’ve taken them, I’ll sedate you. Lightly,” he emphasized in response to her emphatic head shake. “Sarah is going to hold your hands the entire time, and I’ll be right here.”

She scowled.

“Don’t look at me like that. I know you’re in pain. Sarah, can you take the blankets?” His smile was apologetic. “Will you give me your arm, baby?”

Jenna clung to her useless fort, batting at Sarah’s hands as she gently removed the blankets and gave her a pat on the leg. Seething silently, Jenna crossed her arms over her chest and clenched her jaw.

Oh, she knew she’d lost the battle, she just wasn’t ready to concede.

Connor touched a fingertip to her lips, traced the pout of her lips, the hard set of her jaw. “Give me two minutes, Jenna. That’s all I’m asking.”

That’s all it would take, she knew. Two minutes and he’d send her tumbling into the darkness she couldn’t stand. But the to-ing and fro-ing, the battle between them was draining her. One way or another, Connor would get his way.

She curled one arm protectively over her breasts, closed her eyes, and offered the other as though expecting it to be sliced off. Tremors ripped down the limb; small hands cupped her elbow, her wrist, and steadied her.

“All right, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.” Sarah’s melodic voice wasn’t the one Jenna needed to hear. “The tourniquet is going on now; it might feel tight for a moment or two.”

She winced, tried to pull away as something nipped her bicep a couple of inches above her elbow. Already she was regretting her choice to submit quietly.

Fingers poked firmly into the crook of her arm, testing, plumping the vein. She opened her eyes as Connor slipped the needle through her skin, felt her stomach lurch when thick red blood—herblood—filled the syringe. Her free hand shot out, made a grab for it.

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