Page 56 of Twisted Gift

Tonight. I’ll say it tonight. Nothing will stop me from telling him those three words.

I walk through the lobby, glancing around at the beauty of it, remembering my first time taking it all in. The smile drops off my face when I catch Marisa heading toward the kitchen, her eyes puffy and red. I turn and change direction, closing the distance between us as I call her name.

Halfway down the quiet hallway, she stops, slowing and turning around to face me.

“What’s going on, Marisa?” I ask, frowning at the dark waves of dread pouring off her.

She shakes her head and forces a watery smile. “Nothing. It’s fine. I just need some air.”

“Talk to me,” I say. “Maybe I can help?”

She chews her bottom lip. “Okay,” she whispers. “Can we go outside?”

I nod. “Lead the way.” During my time here, I never used this hallway or spent time in the kitchen, so I’m not sure where to go.

She keeps walking, and I follow her outside to what appears to be a delivery entrance. There’s a black Escalade with tinted windows parked near the dumpster, but other than that, the lot is empty.

Marisa sighs, sniffling, and leans against the exterior of the building.

I glance around before focusing on her. “What’s going on?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Marisa lifts her head to look at me. “I hope you believe me when I say I wish I didn’t have to do this.” She wipes the tears from her face.

I frown as panic and confusion flood in. “What are you talking about?”

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. When I’m grabbed from behind and feel the pinch of a needle in my neck, my blood runs cold.

“If you had just stayed human,” she shakes her head again, “this could’ve been avoided.”

My eyelids droop, and my legs no longer want to hold me up. I fall against the guy holding on to me as black splotches dance across my vision.

Fuck.

I go to scream but no sound comes out. I see Marisa frown, see her mouth form the wordsI’m sorry, and then the world slips away.

14

The first thing that registers in my ears is the constantbeep... beep... beepof a machine. Next is the sharp antiseptic smell that burns my nose. I recoil from it with nowhere to go but the memories of my visits to Adam in the hospital—and the day he died. My eyes sting as I try to blink them open. Whiteness overwhelms my vision, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the harsh lights in the ceiling. I try to move my arm to cover my face and meet resistance. I try the other arm—same thing. They’re secured to the bed I’m lying on.What the hell?

I lift my head, blinking until my vision clears, and I can see the room around me. Everything is white. The bed, the sheets, the walls, the shirt and pants I’m wearing. With each passing second, my pulse skyrockets.

Marisa. She . . . let someone take me.Who? Why? Where did they take me?Too many thoughts and questions are running on a loop in my head, too fast for me to focus on even one.

My chest rises and falls as my throat goes dry. I’m trapped in an all-white, sterile room that’s smaller than a hospital room—but that’s what it looks like. My hand aches from the IV attached to it, and I wince at the feel of the needle under the skin when I try to move it. I follow the clear tubes up to the bags they’re hanging from and swallow the bile racing up my throat. I haven’t got a clue what’s being pumped into my body, and I probably don’t want to know.

Panic rolls through me like a wicked, unforgiving storm, and I snap. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I fight the restraints, kicking hard and pulling at the bindings around my wrists. Pain slices at my skin, burning hot, as I realize the padded cuffs holding me to the bed are constructed with iron.

Son of a bitch.

I lie back, my breathing heavy and my forehead damp with sweat. Before I can make another—probably useless—attempt to break free, the door to the room opens, and in walks Dr. Richelle Collins, smiling as if she’s more than happy to see me.

My eyes widen, and my head spins so fast I wince, squinting once again at the brightness of the room. Richelle appears as I remember her, all the way up to her stiff white coat. It turns my stomach, and I clench my jaw so tight it makes my head hurt.

“Aurora,” she says with a sad smile, closing the door behind her. “I’m disappointed we had to meet again under such circumstances.”

My eyes narrow. “And what circumstance might this be?” She nears the bed, and I stiffen, growling low in my throat.

She settles her gaze on me. “Had you not gotten yourself involved with the fae, you wouldn’t be here today.”

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