Page 47 of Even Vampires Bleed
So, I’m working out for most of the day and visiting my father at least an hour a day.
I don’t know him.
I don’t know our history.
But I can see some of my face in his—the slope of his nose, the shape of his eyes or his lips—and there is no doubt that he is my father.
He’s also very broken.
Two stumps that never seem to heal are at his back where there used to be wings, and he wanders into the archives as if it was his domain.
I feel like my presence is grounding him though, so everyday I come back and read a book next to him.
We don’t talk, we just sit together and that seems to be enough for both of us.
Maybe his brain has been tampered with, too, but since he only talks to his books, no one can really be sure.
But I feel some kinship with him that goes beyond blood.
We’re two lost souls, and when we’re together, we’re not so lost anymore.
24
Cassiopé
Elis is an asshole—a fucking bear asshole.
Yeah, you heard me.
It’s been a week since I started working with humans, and it’s only now that I discoverLibérationisn’t just humans.
I’ve met a couple wolves, a tiger, and a bull in passing. All told me what they were.
All but Elis.
Elis has stayed quiet about himself, and I’m only now discovering that the sulking male is a bear shifter.
And guess why?
It’s cold; the recovery team won’t be here for another hour, and we’re in the middle of nowhere near Chambord’s castle. He decided to undress because hewas cold.
That didn’t make sense until I was sitting next to a very hairy black bear.
So, now I know.
And I can’t even yell at him that he could have told me, because we’re not supposed to be here.
I’m mainly mad because we’ve been talking a bit—really just a bit. It’s difficult to get more than two sentences out of that man, and I’m not really helping either—and I thought we were friends-ish.
And telling a friend—ish—that you turn into a freaking hair ball with anger issues would be the bare minimum in my book.
At least in this form, he can’t sneer.
I look up at him and… nope, he can do it in bear form, too.
“One day you’ll have to tell me what makes you so grumpy,” I say.
He growls something that strangely sounds like “pot meet kettle,” which is disturbing from a bear.
