Twisted. Gena Showalter
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“Give me a minute to mentally calculate.” With barely a pause, he added, “Yep, that’s three days too long. Has he fed recently?”
“Yes.” She’d tested every blood-slave she’d allowed him to drink from, then, when she knew they were safe, she’d given him a little at a time to gauge how he would respond. There’d been no reaction, good or bad, so she’d given him more and more, until the blood had practically seeped from his pores. Still there’d been no reaction.
For hours she had debated the wisdom of giving him more of her blood. What if he became addicted again? Then she’d thought, what if he was still addicted, and only her blood could help him?
So, she’d done it. She’d sliced her wrist—and oh, how that had hurt—pouring her blood straight down his throat. The wound had healed slowly for her, swiftly for a human, but Aden had gotten several mouthfuls in the interim. His cheeks had suddenly bloomed with color, and she’d been so hopeful—for both of them. But a few minutes later, the color had withered, then disappeared altogether, and his sleep had become fitful. Too fitful. He’d moaned in pain, writhed and finally vomited.
She explained all of that to Riley.
“Maybe that’s the problem, then,” he said. “Maybe he doesn’t need the blood.”
“I let him go twenty-four hours without it, and he got even worse. He only improved to this comalike state when I started feeding him again.”
A heavy sigh. “All right, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Riley said, taking charge. As always. “I’m gonna post guards at your door. No one but you and I are to enter this room. Understand?”
“No. Because I’m foolish. News flash, Riley. That’s why I threatened to disembowel anyone who entered.” Well, well. Stress and lack of rest were making her snappy.
He continued, unperturbed, “You’re going to feed him your blood, exactly as you’ve been doing, and you will alert me if there’s a change. Any change. I will go to the D and M ranch and grab his medication.”
The D and M ranch. Aden’s home. Well, perhaps former home now. Troubled teenagers lived there, and it was a last stop on the road to redemption—or damnation. One broken rule, and those teens were kicked out. Leaving without contacting Dan, the owner of that ranch, was probably the biggest no-no of all.
“Victoria, are you listening to me?”
“What? Oh, yes. Sorry.” She was still so easily distracted. “But Aden hates his medication.” And if he wanted back inside that ranch, Victoria would make it happen. A few spoken commands, and the humans there would do and think whatever she wanted them to do and think.
If she still possessed the Voice, she thought with a swirl of dread. She’d lost her ultratough skin and could have lost her ultrapowerful voice, too. Since returning, she had tried to compel a few of the human slaves to do her bidding. They had smiled at her and gone on their way, without doing what she’d told them.
You’re out of practice, that’s all, and still haven’t completely regained your strength.
The pep talk failed to comfort her.
“You’re worse than Aden,” Riley muttered. “And I don’t care if he hates his meds or not. We’ve seen him like this before, minus the need for blood, and the medication was the only thing that helped him. If the souls are responsible, like they were before, we have to knock them out for a little while.”
“But what if the medication hurts him, now that he’s a blood drinker?”
“Doubtful, since human meds don’t really hurt you. But there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”
Good point. One that bothered her. Most everyone in Aden’s life considered him a schizophrenic. Not only had his parents given him up when he was little, but he’d been shuffled from one mental institution to another. Different “cures” had been shoved down his throat for years, and he’d hated them all.
And, really, he liked the souls, loud and obnoxious as they were, and his newest medicinal regimen shut them down entirely. But Riley was right. Aden wouldn’t last much longer in his current state. They had to try something, anything. Everything.
“All right.” She hated that she hadn’t thought of this. If it worked, she could have saved Aden three days of … distress? Pain? Mental torment? Probably a mix of all three. “We’ll try.”
“Good. I’ll be back.” Riley turned on his booted heels and headed for the door. “Riley.”
He stopped, but didn’t face her.
“Be careful. Thomas’s ghost is still there.” Thomas, the fairy prince Riley and Aden had killed to save her. Now his very nasty ghost haunted the ranch, and he craved vengeance.
“I will.”
“And thank you.” Being here was probably difficult for him. Mary Ann was his love, and knowing him, he was frothing over her disappearance. Was probably frantic to be out there, searching for her. Yet, he stayed because Victoria needed him.
When Aden improved, she would help Riley hunt for Mary Ann, she decided. A danger to her loved ones or not.
A stiff nod, and then Riley was gone, the door closing behind him. Sighing, Victoria turned back to Aden. Her beautiful Aden. What was going on in that head of his? Was he aware of his surroundings? Hurting, as she suspected?
Did he know what she had done to him, those last few minutes in their cave?
She ran her fingers through his hair, lifting the strands and revealing the blond roots. There was a slight curl at the ends, the locks winding around her knuckles. He didn’t lean into her touch as she was used to, and that saddened her.
How much turmoil could one boy endure before he crumbled? Since the moment she’d entered his life, he’d known only war and pain. Because of her, goblin poison had ravaged him. Because of her, the witches had cursed his friends to die. Because of her, the fairies had tried to take over the D and M ranch.
Fine. Maybe all those things weren’t exactly because of her, but she still felt responsible. A humorless laugh escaped her. How human of her. To carry the weight of blame, despite everything. Aden would be so proud.
“You woke up from this kind of thing before,” she whispered. “You will wake up this time, too.” Please.
Unable to bear the thought of separation, she remained where she was until Riley returned a half hour later. He was without his shirt and wearing new pants that weren’t yet fastened. He’d dressed hastily, his other clothes ruined during his shift to wolf, she was sure.
Wolves tended to wear clothing that ripped easily. Because, when they shifted, they were stuck wearing whatever didn’t fall off. And wearing human underwear while in wolf form was something they preferred to avoid.
He carried a small wicker basket filled with medicine, the pill bottles rattling together. Victoria hopped to her feet, and he placed the basket where she’d sat.
“Sorry I took so long.”
“Thomas give you any trouble?”
“Nope. I didn’t even catch a glimpse of him. But then, unlike Aden, I’ve never been able to see or hear the dead. The delay had to do with the pills. I didn’t know which ones to give our boy and didn’t want him to have a reaction to the wrong combination, so I just grabbed the bottles with his name on them, stopped in my room, and Googled.”
What he didn’t say: Mary Ann was the Google queen, and she was the one who’d taught him how to use the search engine. Although, calling it an engine always confused Victoria. There were no workable parts that she could see.
“So, what happened at the ranch?” she asked.
“Here. See for yourself.” He extended his free hand, and she twined