Page 10 of Can't Bite This Feeling
I collapse on the bed. I have no idea where I am, what this world is, or where Rapha is.
I tense as I hear the trickle of running water coming from behind a closed door. I move toward it and push it open. A light flickers on overhead, revealing a white room with a trough of some kind. A bathtub? Is that the right word? And a…toilet? What could that possibly be for? I stare at it, seeing water at the bottom, and realize that’s where the sound is coming from.
My gaze moves to the sink, which features two smooth silver taps. Water rushes from one as I lift the lever. I step back, surprised by the magic. What is this enchantment? I depress the lever, and the water stops. Why are there two? I lift the other one, and in seconds, steam emerges from the tap. It can’t be…
I dip my fingers in the stream of water, pulling them back quickly. This enchanted water is hot.
Lifting my gaze to the looking glass attached to the wall over the sink, I gaze at the face staring back at me. Familiar. But not.
My long, ebony hair falls in tangles around my shoulders. My deep brown eyes are wide with uncertainty. My skin still holds the warm olive tone I was born with. My full lips, high cheekbones, and rounded chin look the same.
But everything feels different.
I check my teeth, then my throat, searching for the echo of fang marks that should be there, of the power that briefly thrummed through my veins like a symphony. But now, there is no paranormal strength, no unnatural speed, no feral hunger.
Just a heartbeat, steady, human, and fragile, pounding in my ears.
My knees threaten to buckle, and I grip the edge of the sink to stay upright. I remember dying. I remember Rapha’s hands on my face, the taste of eternity, the way he made me his. I remember the freedom that came with that darkness.
But now…
Now I’m human again.
Mortal.
Terrified tears slide down my cheek, but this time, I dash them away angrily. I cannot afford fear. I survived Cassian. I survived death. I can survive this—whatever this is.
I take another steadying breath and stare into the mirror, into the dark depths of my eyes.
I will survive. I will find him.
Because somewhere out there, Rapha is waiting.
The Roman soldier and vampire I fell in love with would not abandon me.
But what if he takes too long? What if my father comes?
No sooner does the thought enter my mind than I hear the shuffle of feet in the bedchamber. Oh, Gods, he’s here! My father has found me again. He’s back to finish what he’d started, to make my nightmare a reality.
Panic seizes my spine, a cold lance of dread that buckles my knees. No, no, please, not again.
I scan the room with frantic eyes, searching for anything that could serve as a weapon. My gaze lands on a long-handled object leaning against a corner, white bristles flaring from its end. Not a sword or a dagger, but it will have to do.
I snatch it up, gripping the unfamiliar object like a spear. My heart hammers against my ribs, each beat a frantic prayer.
The footsteps grow closer, slow and sure like a hunter.
I back against the wall, brandishing the odd stick, bristles aimed forward as though I could fend off an entire legion. The handle slips in my sweaty grip, and I choke back a sob.
Steady, Drusilla. Steady.
The door creaks open. A tall, dark shape fills the frame, horns crowning his head, eyes smoldering red like dying coals. The bristles of my stolen weapon tremble in front of me.
His voice is a low rumble, rolling through my bones like a storm.
“Drusilla.”
I freeze.
