Page 108 of Bitten & Burned
My chest. My arms.
Not the dull, pleasant ache of this morning. This was sharp, white hot. Not pleasure—just pain. Just… more.
“You’re okay, darling. I’ve got you…”
Anton.
His voice was like cool water on a parched throat. My eyes fluttered open to see him, looking worried. But here.
I shifted, and he quickly adjusted. “Shh… no sudden movements…”
“What…” I croaked. My voice didn’t even sound like mine.
“Hey there, sweetheart. Don’t move, okay?”
Quil.
I turned slightly. He was right there, eyes wide, but haunted.
I blinked. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Anton asked.
“No… I…”
But then it all came back.
Jolting. Bright. Rushing uncontrollably all at once.
Yellow eyes. Four pairs of them. The acrid aroma—sickening. Hands everywhere, scratching, clawing, pulling, bending.
I closed my eyes and turned into Anton’s chest.
I wanted to go back to last night. To eating fruit in bed, to toe-curling sex, to drifting to sleep in his arms.
Not this. Not this nightmare that replayed every time I blinked.
“Shh… I’ve got you,” Anton whispered. I felt his lips against my forehead.
I straightened a little, turned towards Quil, who was still kneeling beside me.
“I called for you,” I whispered. “But not out loud.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I heard you. Felt you.”
“I thought… I thought they were you, at first. But then I realized?—”
Quil reached for me. “I know, baby. I know. No one’s upset with you, sweetheart.”
I hadn’t thought that, had I?
Still, tears slipped down my cheeks.
“Why?” I asked, forcing out the word.
“I don’t know,” Anton said. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”
“You shouldn’t have to be,” I whimpered, trying not to cry harder, but the ache in my throat and chest made it impossible. I paused, frowned, and looked around. “Wait, where’s Fig?”
