Page 49 of Fanged Embrace
When Mary’s laughter petered out, and her eyes returned to her wristband—teary and far too full of melancholy for someone so young—Laurie glanced my way again. “Hey, Miss Vampire. Can you give us a moment alone?”
When she saw the hesitation in my eyes, her gaze softened, turned pleading. She wanted me to trust her to handle this.
I could give her that.
“All right.” I backed up to the doorway and pretended to look disgruntled. “Me and my vampire stink will be waiting outside.”
The look Laurie shot me was grateful, her tight smilestrained at the corners but sincere. I gave her a small nod of reassurance and closed the door behind me, erecting myself in the hallway and monitoring their auras through the walls.
Out there, I waited and I listened.
And I learned more about Laurie than I’d bargained for.
24
Laurie
When the door closed behind River, I returned my attention to Mary. The girl was shivering, the barest tremor shaking through her hunched shoulders. Not fear, exactly but… unease.
I could guess what was running through her mind right about now. A part of her was relieved to finally be free, to have escaped a cruel upbringing where she hadn’t even been granted a name. But the other part of her—much like the other part of me—would be entertaining the idea of returning. Not out of affection for her captors, but because when you’ve spent so long in survival mode, you don’t know any other way of living.
Freedom itself can feel foreign, and so you rebuild the very cage you escaped, simply because it’s familiar.
I wasn’t stupid (foolish maybe—reckless for sure. But not stupid). I knew exactly why I couldn’t go a day without getting into some kind of trouble, even if it fucked with my head and sent me spiraling. I’d built my new life like a roller coaster ride, savoring the highs and the sharp spike of adrenaline, andplummeting back down again when my luck ran out. It was the only way I knew how to live.
I hunched over at the edge of the cot, folding my elbows onto my knees and letting my gaze slide down to the floor instead of locking with Mary’s. In my experience, holding a conversation with a stranger was a lot easier when they weren’t looking straight at you.
“Tell me what you remember about the facility,” I murmured, keeping my voice casual enough to put her at ease. She would talk, or she wouldn’t. Either option was okay. “The bad parts… and the good parts.”
Mary hesitated for a beat, and then her small shoulders lifted in a stilted shrug. “I lived somewhere else before I lived there. The place I lived in before was bigger. There were more people like me.”
I kept my eyes on the floor and tapped the toes of my shoes together. “Hybrids?”
Mary nodded and I caught the movement from the corner of my eye. She sucked in a breath, and my heart clenched tight at the sound of it. She was trying to summon her courage, trying to be helpful.
“They said we were special because we were first generation hybrids.” She tried to sound proud. It came out confused, and I resisted the urge to reach out to her. To take her in my arms and hold her tight. To protect her and keep her safe.
Faint flashes of memories played behind my eyes—not the usual overwhelming cinematic experience, but distant snapshots. Blurry images. Red lights flashing in a smoky corridor, and something small—something precious—clutched to my chest. Something I had failed to protect.
I laced my fingers and swallowed around the stone lodged in my throat. When I glanced at Mary my words came out hoarse, like that choking smoke had never left my lungs. “How long were you there?”
Mary’s face scrunched up, curling lip revealing the barest hint of fangs. “All my life, I think. My mom said I was born there. Then, when she went away they moved me to the new facility.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Where did your mom go?”
“I don’t know. One day I woke up and she was just—” a hiccup, and the beginning stages of a sobbing fit stuttered her words, “—just… gone.” I looked up. Mary’s lower lip trembled, and she dropped her head to her knees. “The other hybrids said Mom went away because I was a monster. She didn’t want me.”
Something in the hollow halls of my heart fractured into pieces.
“No, Mary. You’re not a monster.” I reached for her chilly fingers, encasing her hands in my own. Mary didn’t fight it, she only sobbed harder, and her shoulders shook with the force of it.
I shuffled closer, still holding onto her little hands, and she wove her way under my arm, burrowing as deep as she could into the folds of my jacket. My every instinct screamed to hold her tighter, to shield her from everything she’d been through, and would yet have to face. To carry her further than I’d carried my own precious bundle.
“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” My words came in ragged breaths, and I choked on each one.
I rocked us gently, ignoring the squeak of protest from the flimsy legs of the cot until Mary’s sobbing stuttered out. My own tears leaked out, unbidden. I barely noticed until I tasted the tang of salt on my lips.
“Hey, Mary.” I closed my eyes, a confession sitting unspoken on the tip of my tongue. But she had to hear it. She had to know, no matter what, that she was not a monster. “Can I tell you a secret?”
