The first thing I notice as I stir awake is a cold, metallic sensation against my lips. A single drop lands on my tongue, and before I can stop myself, I lick it.
The hunger hits me like a freight train—sharp and all-consuming. My body jerks in response, desperate for more, but I force myself to open my eyes instead.
An arm hovers above me, pale and steady, with crimson blood dripping from a fresh wound. My eyes trail up to its owner, and my breath catches.
"What are you doing?" My voice is raspy, barely more than a whisper, but it's enough to break the heavy silence.
He doesn't flinch, his expression calm and maddeningly unreadable. "Trying to feed you," Valentine says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He shifts closer, lowering his arm. "Drink."
The scent of his blood fills the air, intoxicating and irresistible. I feel my hunger clawing at me, demanding I obey, but I push myself away, pressing my back against the headboard.
"No."
His golden eyes darken, the calm veneer cracking. "You need this," he says firmly.
"I said no." My voice is steadier now, though every nerve in my body is screaming at me to grab his wrist.
He sighs and pulls his arm back, the wound already starting to close. "You're going to starve yourself out of sheer stubbornness, aren't you?"
"I'll manage."
He lets out a low growl, standing abruptly. Pacing the room, he rakes a hand through his blonde hair, frustration radiating from him in waves.
I watch him, my body trembling from the hunger I'm trying to suppress. "Why do you even care if I starve?"
He stops in his tracks, his shoulders tense. Slowly, he turns to face me, and for the first time, I see something raw in his expression.
"Because you're mine, North!" His voice is sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "Because I'm yours! Because it matters that you're alive!"
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I'm left staring at him, too stunned to respond.
"What are you talking about?" I manage to ask, though my voice is barely above a whisper.
He doesn't answer. Instead, he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.
For a long moment, he doesn't speak, and the room is filled with an unbearable silence.
Finally, he lifts his head and looks at me. "Do you think I'm happy with what I am?"
"You seem pretty satisfied," I say cautiously, unsure where this is going.
He shakes his head. "You have no idea." His voice is quieter now, almost bitter. "This isn't a life anyone would choose. But you don't get to choose when the bond happens. It's fate."
I frown, his words making less sense by the second. "What bond? What are you—"
The scent of his blood still lingers in the air, and my hunger flares again, sharp and painful.
He notices immediately, his gaze flicking to my lips as I unconsciously lick away the last traces of blood.
"You're starving," he says, his voice soft but firm. "Stop fighting it."
Before I can protest, he tilts his head and slices a fresh wound into his neck.
The scent overwhelms me, and all rational thought flies out the window. I'm on him in seconds, my lips pressed to his neck as I feed.
It's unlike anything I've ever experienced—intimate, electric, like his blood is coursing through every inch of my body.
For a moment, I forget to care about what it means or how it makes me feel. All that matters is the hunger, and he's the only one who can sate it.
When I finally pull away, my breath comes in heavy pants. I can feel his gaze on me, intense and unreadable, but I don't dare look at him.
He stands abruptly, straightening his shirt. "I'll leave you to rest."
"Wait." My voice stops him mid-step. I look up at him, still shaken by everything that's happened. "What did you mean when you said I'm yours?"
He shrugs, his usual calm demeanor slipping back into place. "Ask me again when you're ready to hear the truth."
Before I can respond, he's gone, disappearing out the window in a blur of motion.
I don't sleep after that. His words replay in my mind, over and over, taunting me.
You're mine. I'm yours.
What does that even mean?
I try to distract myself by watching TV, but nothing holds my attention for long. By the time Ellie comes home in the morning, I'm still on the couch, staring blankly at the screen.
She stops in the doorway, her brows furrowing. "What happened to you?"
I glance down at myself and realize my shirt is stained with blood. "Nothing. I'm fine."
"Fine?" She gives me a skeptical look. "You're covered in blood."
"It's not mine," I say quickly, regretting the words the second they leave my mouth.
Her eyes widen. "Whose is it?"
"No one's. It's… complicated."
She doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't press further. "Well, whatever it is, you might want to change before class."
Class...I almost forgot about that.
******
Campus feels like a different world after everything that's happened. The sun is shining, students are laughing, and everything feels so… normal.
But nothing about my life is normal anymore.
I'm halfway to class when I spot Achilles leaning casually against a tree, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
He's dressed in a simple brown silky dress shirt that ripples with the wind, and an even lighter brown pants that covers his shoes.
"Great," I mutter under my breath. "The lackey's here."
He chuckles as I approach. "Good morning to you too."
"Why are you here?"
"Babysitting duty," he says with a grin.
I roll my eyes and keep walking, but he falls into step beside me.
We don't make it far before Dorothy and her entourage appear out of nowhere.
"North!" she exclaims, her voice annoyingly cheerful. "Who's your friend?"
I glance at him, hoping he'll say something, but he just smirks and lets me handle it.
"This is… no one," I say, trying to keep my tone casual.
Dorothy doesn't seem to care about my answer. She's already batting her lashes and leaning a little too close to him.
"So, are you new around here?" she asks him, twirling her hair around her fingers.
He takes a step back, clearly unimpressed. Without a word, he grabs my hand and pulls me away, ignoring her shocked gasp.
"If you know who that is, you would want to turn around and maybe say a few words or two. Just don't ignore her." I urge him, glancing back at her.
"If you know what you are, you wouldn't care," he replies simply.
We walk for a while, heading to one of my first classes for the day. This part of campus is almost empty, so we're basically almost alone and then he turns to me. "I know you're wondering why I'm really here. The truth is, you're not safe here."
I frown. "What are you talking about?"
"Because of what you are," he says, his tone grave. "You'll have to face the council sooner or later. They're curious. They've heard about you and they want to meet you...not exactly by friendly means."
"What I am?" I echo, confused. "You mean a vampire?"
He shakes his head. "You're not a vampire, or you wouldn't be walking in the sun right now."
"Then what am I?"
He grins, his teeth gleaming. "That's a conversation you'll have to have with him."
I freeze at the mention of him, my mind flashing back to his words from the night before.
"Speaking of him, I was wondering the meaning of something he told me last night."
"Oh really? What did he say?"
"You're mine, I'm yours." I squint my eyes in confusion as I look up at him. "What does that mean?"
His grin widens, his voice dripping with amusement.
"You're mated to him, honey. What else did you think it meant?"