Page 19 of Love Bites
His thumb touched my neck just above my pulse point. "What other memory did you want erased?"
I sought Talon's eyes and opened my mouth, but the words didn't come immediately. It was too hard to talk about this shit.
"It's okay," he assured me, his tone strangely gentle. "I'll get it if you think of it."
I nodded to show that I understood. Glad that I wasn't required to talk anymore, I let my eyes fall close.
Talon chuckled, a warm sound that seemed somehow uncharacteristic and perfectly natural at the same time. "Don't sleep just yet." His fingers played with the hair in the back of my neck.
"I'm awake," I mumbled.
"All right." That was the last thing Talon said before he leaned down to me. His breath brushed my skin, and then his fangs penetrated my skin. By this point, the sensation was almost familiar. I sighed, sinking into it, losing myself in Talon.
He'd told me not to fight. I certainly wasn't fighting now.
It was a shame that I had to ruin this moment by summoning an unpleasant memory—but it had to be done. Willing myself to stay calm, I directed my mind to the day my bio-parents died. I tried to, anyway. As much as my asshole of a psyche liked to throw those memories in my face when I was trying to be a functioning adult instead, it wasn't cooperating now. I tried again, took a deep breath and envisioned the darkness of the hiding place under the floorboard where my mom had made me go.
The smell of dust rose up in my nose.
My mind balked.
I just couldn't make myself go back there willingly. Not after all the time I'd spent trying to get away from it.
"It's okay," Talon said again. I hadn't even noticed that he wasn't drinking from me anymore. Was he giving up? I opened my eyes to look at him.
"I'm sorry. I can't."
"No, you can." Talon kissed my neck where he'd been biting me moments ago. "But you'll have to let me take the lead."
I swallowed and glanced at his blood-stained lips. "Don't you have to...?"
He ran a hand through my hair in a manner far too caring for the coldhearted killer he was supposed to be. "I've got enough of your blood to work my magic on you if you don't interfere."
"I'm not trying to."
"Keep that in mind. I have a feeling this is going to hurt more than the bite."
I wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that until he rested one of his hands on my forehead and reality dropped away from me before I could even try to hold on—and this time I wasn't treated to one of Talon's memories. I found myself stuck in my five-year-old body, hiding under the floorboards of my bio-parents' house.
When I asked Talon to erase this memory from my mind I didn't realize that it would also mean reliving it.
Don't freak out,I told myself, but that was easier said than done. The floorboards creaked above me and panic closed up my throat. I needed to get out of here. Out of this hiding space and out of this memory.
I wasn't supposed to fight this, but how could I not? Pressing my hands to my ears, I curled in on myself in the tiny space that seemed to get tinier all the time.
"Who sent you?" My mom's voice. I looked up, even though I didn't want to. This memory was more vivid than it usually was. I'd never been able to remember the details of what had been said before. "How did you find us?"
"Oh please." The intruder spoke, his voice nearly a snarl. I'd never seen his face and I'd never recalled his words, but that voice, the pure malice in it, still haunted my dreams to this day... In my hiding place, I wrapped my arms tight around myself. "We have ways to find pests like you. Did you really think you could run forever?"
None of this made any sense. My parents hadn't been on the run from anyone. They'd been killed in a random robbery. Pure bad luck.
Then why did they install a hiding place for you?The question came unbidden and no answer followed. I didn't have one. I didn't have any more time tothinkabout it either, because the voices above me kept speaking.
"You don't have to do this." My father. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest.
Because I knew what was about to happen.
"Run!" I wanted to shout, but my mouth didn't open. That was the worst part. No matter how many times I found myself here, in my nightmares or in flashbacks, I could never do anything to stop this. I could only wait and listen to the sounds of the people I loved being murdered, and then I could only hold my breath, too terrified to move, hoping that they wouldn't find me too. Sometimes hoping that they would.
