Page 19 of Just for a Taste

For a moment, everything was dark. Dark and warm. Then Duca de’ Medici grasped me by the arms and separated me roughly from his chest.

A slew of curses rang through my mind. Of all the people to find me like this, it had to behim.

He regarded me momentarily with a sharp, exasperated gaze, but when he searched my face, it softened. “Signorina Bowling? Are you okay?”

No,was my immediate thought.I’m not okay.

I wanted to explain everything that had happened, but now there was nothing to explain. Behind me, the lights were shining like usual, and the air was still.

“I-I’m fine. I just thought I heard something.”

The vampire’s expression darkened. He looked past me. “A voice?”

The sincere concern in his tone elicited me to answer, somewhat truthfully, “I don’t know. Or birds, maybe.”

Duca de’ Medici met my gaze again, eyes swimming with unease. “Would you like me to investigate?”

Before I could reply, he gently placed me away from him and turned to walk off in the direction I had run from.

I grabbed his sleeve, stopping him. “No, please. I-I just want to go to bed.”

With a solemn nod, he returned to my side and moved my hand to his forearm. I leaned against his arm. I hadn’t realized I was wavering so much.

“Of course. You live in the abbess’s suite, correct?”

“Y-yes.”

Wordlessly, he led me through several doors, tossing his head behind his shoulder every now and again as if to confirm I hadn’t spirited away. I was grateful for this. I didn’t think I’d be able to utter a word.

After several turns, we stopped at my door. Even with the security of a familiar setting, I hadn’t let go of his arm. He waited and didn’t move until I finally unglued myself. He held my door open for me but stood decidedly on the outer side of its transparent threshold. Duca de’ Medici remained for a moment, clearly on the verge of saying something, then nodded.

But before he could leave, my arms sprung out in front of me, and I grasped his sleeve again. At the thought of being alone again, the air felt heavier. Darkness encircled my sight.No, not now.A familiar sense of dread filled my chest.No, no, no.

It had been months since my last panic attack. I had mastered this. One hundred milligrams of sertraline per day was bitter on my tongue every night, no matter how quickly I chased it down with water. I had done everything right, had gotten therapy. The refills for the bottle of lorazepam above my sink had long expired, so long ago that I hadn’t even bothered to mention them to Doctor Ntumba.

You’re fine,I told myself.You’re safe.

You’re going to die,was the response.Your heart is going to explode.

My body grew hot, my breath shallow. A sharp ringing filled my ears. Everything was rushing away. I stumbled back and groped behind me for stability, but even the vanity I found wasn’t enough to keep me steady. Its knobs ran painfully along my spine as I slid down, rolling sharply across each vertebrae. Something slipped past my fingers and hit the ground. A bookmark.

A bookmark with beads, just out of reach.

“Please,” I croaked, staggering to my bed. “The bookmark. And the pills in the bathroom.”

I faded in and out. In an instant, the bookmark was at my side, along with Duca de’ Medici and the lorazepam.

“How many?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

I knew the bottle wanted me to take only one, but logic was elusive when faced with the end of the world. “T-two!

He popped open the cap and dumped a pair into my hands. I popped both of them under my tongue. They dissolved quickly, leaving behind only a faint vanilla taste and the anticipation of relief.

Some of the swimming in my ears abated. I faintly heard Duca de’ Medici’s voice saying, “You’re safe here. It’s going to be okay.”

The words from my unlikely savior helped, and I felt another step closer to avoiding death. Finally, I grasped the beaded portion of the bookmark between my fingers and counted as I breathed.One, two, three, fourI inhaled.One, two, three, four, I exhaled.One, two, three, four. I held my breath and slid one bead between my fingers. I repeated this and by the time I reached the base of the bookmark, the world had grown softer, cooler, closer.

But warmth still lingered on one half of me. Duca de’ Medici was holding me against him, his grip on my shoulder and hand sturdy yet gentle.

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