Good, he won’t bother me. Won’t try to touch me. Won’t steal blood from me.
But she slept terrible.
And he didn’t come back the next day, either. She felt anxiety about it all day long, like she’d wanted to crawl out of her own skin. She didn’t know why but she wanted him to come back. She stared pitifully at the bedroom door, willing it to open and berating herself for wanting to see him. Joe and Sam showed up together twice that day with carts of food. She pretended to be asleep both times.
On the third morning she could hear one of them clearing up broken glass and smelled the scent of the wall being patched up. She finally looked up as she felt something on the bed. Sam had pulled out some clean clothes from among her still-packed belongings in the closet and put them on the end of the bed. He gave her a sad little smile. She didn’t return it, only looked back down at the bed. He had an armful of Tristan’s clothing that he left with. Joe had been in the doorway the entire time.
Another cart came and went that evening and all she’d taken from it was a bottle of water. She fell asleep that night on his side of the bed, trying to feel him, inhaling his pillow and searching for his scent, which was just barely there.
She had nightmares that night that must’ve woken her up at least three times. In one she was running for her life through the tunnel with the bloodied walls and was looking for him. In the dream she’d called his name over and over but he didn’t come. She woke up sweating and frantic. Another dream involved her sitting on the floor, pulling razor blades across her arms and watching the blood ooze out. In the dream she’d kept screaming his name, calling him to come and get the blood, “Come and get it you black-eyed monster!” she screamed in the dream but he wouldn’t come so she resorted to pleading with him in the dream, “Please, Tristan. I’m sorry!”
Then she dreamt about him again, a vivid sex dream where it started with him all smiles and dimples. He’d been about to bite her and about to plunge his cock into her and she’d wanted it, badly, laying on a bed with her legs spread and her head tilted, exposing her throat for him but then he moved to stand over her, staring, with black eyes and an angry snarl. She jolted awake with noise.
The guys were there, swapping carts, “I have a bad headache,” Kyla muttered, “Do you think I could get some Tylenol or Advil, please?”
“Yep,” Joe said from the doorway, not looking at her. He and Sam left and returned a moment later with two pills that Sam placed on the cart beside a glass of thick pink liquid.
“Thanks,” she whispered and took a sip to down the pills. It was a strawberry banana smoothie.
“You’re not eating, love,” Sam said softly, “He doesn’t want you ill. Drink that all, please.”
She put the cup down after just one swig. Sam let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He shook his head at her and then the two men left. She didn’t drink any more of it. She turned her back on the tray and closed her raw and sore eyes.
Another long day. Her soul ached even more than her eyes, head, and her gut. She felt empty. It was the only thing worse than the headache. How long would he keep her locked up in here? She was able to reach the sink and shower and toilet but desperately wanted to feel the sun on her face, the wind in her hair. She surveyed her face in the mirror. The dark circles around her eyes were back and darker than ever. Her skin was pale. She felt empty inside except for a dull pinching sensation in her veins that had started last night.
She wanted the feel of concrete slapping the bottoms of her shoes. Wanted to see his eyes, his dimples, heck, even his fangs. Kyla desperately wanted to see him, to feel him, to feed him, to feel his soft kisses all over her face, all over her back and shoulders. She felt stupid and foolish and empty. How could she feel this way after having been kidnapped just a few days ago, after finding out that vampires were real? After being chained to a bed as a punishment...
Right then she didn’t care what sort of voodoo bullshit he’d done to make her want him. She craved his touch, needed him. She felt so empty and suspected that only he could fill the void. But this was sick and twisted and wrong and so crazy. Kyla felt like she was going crazy without him. He’d told her he could feel what she felt so she wondered if he knew she was sorry. She tried to reach out in her head for him, wondering if he could feel how much she needed him to come in and not be angry any more.