Page 21 of Chain Me

“Well? Say something!”

Instead, his eyes cut down to my chest, settling over my throat.

But anger and shame had control of my body and my mouth opened for one last petty blow. “Is this your way of payback?” I croaked. “For what Raphael did to you?”

Namely, what his adversary had given to me. A life for a life?

And still, he said nothing. So cold. So…frozen.

So, I did the only thing one could in my situation.

I lashed out, intending to slap him, only to grapple for his lapel as my stomach roiled.

And I vomited blood all over his white shirt.

* * *

Iwas in a nightmare, but it didn’t end as I opened my eyes.

I must have fainted. Dublin paced before my narrow bed, his back to me. We were still in that clinical, clean room with the door flung open to allow in the hustle and bustle of the rest of the hospital. The faint noises seemed miles away—another universe—mocking me as my reality crumbled to pieces.

“Raphael. He did this,” Dublin growled, but the tirade wasn’t directed at me for once. He glared instead, his gaze turned inward. “He knew. He…damn him. Damn.” He tore his hands through his hair and I swallowed, too stunned to speak. He—the pompous, callous contractor—didn’t act like this. Frantic. Unpolished.

Afraid?

Air wheezed from my chest, forming a strangled cough I couldn’t suppress.

“Eleanor…” Dublin ceased his hurried pace and turned to me. “Let’s assume you aren’t lying,” he said coldly. “And let’s not waste time on petty indignation, either. This is important. What have you been eating?”

I stared at him, still convinced I was dreaming. None of this was real. It wasn’t…

“What have you eaten?”

“Food,” I croaked in response to the authority in his tone. “But even the thought of it makes me…”

My gag reflex triggered, though my body was too exhausted to follow through. I just choked on empty air. At least there was no blood.

Yet Dublin eyed me more intently than before. His gaze swept downward as if hunting for a certain reaction. “Think,” he warned. “What have you tried drinking?”

“Water,” I hissed, the obvious response. “And…”

A memory unfolded, too vivid to describe in words.

“What is it?”

His gaze was too severe to ignore. Almost as if he already knew just what images flashed within my mind.My thumb sliced open.Blood. The taste of it…

Gritting my teeth, I blurted out, “I pricked my finger the other day.” The hand in question rested weakly by my side, my thumb still an angry, bitten red. “It bled and I…”

The knowledge that I was in a nightmare stripped everything of the dire urgency he seemed to feel—at least in my case. I sounded so bored, in a sense. I’d just professed a slight craving for blood. How blasé.

Evidently, Dublin wasn’t of the same opinion. He turned on his heel and strolled for the door.

“W-Wait!” I struggled to lift my head from my pillow.

His footsteps continued down the hallway regardless.

There was nothing left to do but count my own surging heartbeat. One. Ten. Fifty. Too sluggish. Too fast. My lungs burned, shriveling beneath each breath I sucked in.