Page 9 of Nearly Dead

“How are you feeling?”

I jerk my head toward the voice.Anthony sits in a corner chair, his phone grasped in his hand like he’s been scrolling.He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck, then the truck backed up and parked on my chest.”My voice is rough.“How long was I out?”

“Three days this time.”Anthony closes his book and leans forward.“We’ve been taking turns watching you.”

Three days.Fuck.

He hesitates like he’s going to say more.His thumb brushes his phone screen, lingering there a second too long.I catch a flicker of something unreadable in his expression, like he’s thinking about something that has nothing to do with what’s happening.

“Is something going on that I should know about?”I ask.

“Boy crush drama,” he dismisses with a small shake of his head.He puts his phone down.“That sedative our mother gave you is pretty strong.It’s the only thing that keeps both the vampire and werewolf sides dormant.”

“Lovely.”I swing my legs over the side of the bed, testing my balance.I feel stronger than I should after three days unconscious.“I don’t suppose I can convince you to sneak me out of here?That idea you had to hop on a cargo container to South Africa is looking good about now.”

“Sorry, Tam.No can do.”He doesn’t come close, and I wonder if he’s scared of me.

“Any chance of getting some food?”

He looks back at his phone screen and asks, “Staff member or pedestrian off the street?”

It takes me a moment to realize he’s trying to make a joke.The corner of his mouth lifts a little.

“Shut up!”I launch a pillow at his head, surprised by how hard it smacks against his arm when he blocks the attack.

Anthony’s expression falls and he stands.“There’s a special diet Costin has prepared for you.I’ll let him know you’re awake.”

“Special diet.Great.”I have a feeling I know exactly what that means, and it doesn’t involve ordering pizza.

Before Anthony can leave, the door swings open and our father strides in.I recoil as Davis Devine fills the room with his commanding presence.I don’t want him to see me like this.

My father has always been larger than life.People are drawn to him, especially women.He’s charming and handsome, with silver-streaked dark hair and the kind of face that belongs on a statue.Behind him, like a particularly persistent dark cloud, is Uncle Mortimer.

Perfect.The Devine patriarchy has arrived to save the day.

“Tamara.”My father’s voice is carefully neutral as he looks me over.“You’re finally awake.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” I mutter, touching my face to feel if it’s malformed.

His eyes narrow slightly.“That’s not fair.I’ve been concerned.”

“About me, or about what I’ve become?”I stand up, pleased to find my legs steady beneath me.Someone has put me in silk pajama bottoms and a tank top.I try not to think about who has been taking care of me while I was unconscious.

“There were delicate matters to attend before—” my father begins.

“Both are valid concerns,” Mortimer interjects.He’s thinner than my father, with sharp features and more calculating eyes.Where Davis commands through presence, Mortimer manipulates through precision.“The council has heard about the unfortunate events you were engaged in and is demanding answers.”

“The council can go fuck itself.”The words come out harsher than I intended, with a growl underneath that makes everyone in the room tense.

“She’s clearly disturbed,” Mortimer mutters, waving a dismissive hand, as though he’s already written me off.

“Watch yourself,” my father warns.“The supernatural council isn’t something to dismiss.”

I can’t remember a time when my father was really angry with me.He was often more dismissive than annoyed.Normally Astrid was left to discipline.My father was always the fun one.As a kid, I idolized him.The older I get, the more I realize his flaws.Astrid is the real family glue.

“I wasn’t engaged in any activities,” I tell them.“I was kidnapped and made to participate in a werewolf ritual.”

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