Page 22 of Chain Me

Focus, Ellie.Again, I tried to move a limb. A leg. An arm. Anything? Dripping sweat, I finally managed to raise the hand attached to the IV. First things first, I felt along my throat again, this time searching for bite marks. I found nothing apart from clammy skin.Damn him.

Dublin Helos wouldn’t be able to swoop in and bestow another “cure” just in time to save the day. My attention reverted to the hanging IV, and I was about ready to rip the damn tubing out with my teeth by the time he reentered the room.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

As I did, any argument I could have leveled died in my throat. A clinical, detached posture transformed him—now, he was a cold doctor with a theory to test. In one hand, he held a white Styrofoam cup with a lid and a straw sticking out of the top. In the other was a prepackaged plate of chocolate cake, like the kind one might find in a café.

“I told you I can’t keep anything down.” As I spoke, the heavenly scent of cocoa reached my nose as if to spite me.

“Sit up.” He approached a bedside tray and pulled it closer. Then he offered the cup to me directly. “Drink.”

I had a hunch that there wasn’t water in that cup. My fingers twitched, unwilling to accept it. I wanted him to leave again. I needed to hate him again. That and silence were all I had left.

“Get out.”

“Listen to me—”

“Why?” I scoffed, but he didn’t budge.

His hand was unmoving, his gaze drifting from my throat to my wrists, sensing the frailty I couldn’t even try to hide.

“You’re dying,” he warned. “Drink.”

Before I could argue, a rare emotion flickered across his gray irises and I flinched. That look compelled me in a way even his surliest of growls could not.

I reached for the cup, wrapping my fingers around the smooth surface, intending to throw it. Before I made my move, he tipped his hand, guiding the straw to my dry, cracked lips. I tried to clench my teeth in defiance.

No!

This is insane.

“Eleanor, drink.”

My mouth opened. Dublin didn’t beg. Ever. It was a trick, obviously. Too drained to play his game, I relented. One sip. Purely for experimental reasons—the main one being so that I could spit whatever it was out in his face.

But the moment the warm, mystery liquid hit my tongue…

My throat contracted. More. Another sip. More. Long, desperate pulls.More. More. More.The desperate mantra drowned out everything else. Like shame, as I remembered how to make my limbs move and snatched the cup with both hands.

God, the satiation was indescribable. Terrifying. As if I had been dying of thirst only to stumble upon an oasis. A salty, bitter oasis flooded with sustenance that I knew instinctively hadn’t come from him.

In the literal sense.

Stop!Agony tore through my skin as my conscience overrode hunger. I pulled back, gasping at enough air to spit out a single question he already had the answer to.

“No one was harmed.”

Such a carefully worded statement, but it was enough. The straw slipped between my teeth again and I inhaled every last drop, heedless of the horror building at the back of my skull. It could wait. I could hate myself later. For now, my eyes slid shut, my stomach finally contented, and I blinded myself to all other thoughts and sensations—everything but this elusive sense of fullness. It was heaven, cushioning the blow when I finally resurfaced, as he snatched the cup from my hand.

“Eat.”

He wheeled the bedside tray closer and unwrapped the slice of cake, which he shoved in my direction, along with a fork.

“I told you that I can’t,” I insisted. But something had changed. Once I inhaled the aroma in full, my stomach didn’t rebel. I didn’t need his assistance to sit up, either.

With the tip of the fork, I sliced off a sliver of dessert and settled the morsel onto my tongue. I’d barely convinced myself that projectile vomit onto the man across from me would be a satisfying reaction by the time I finally swallowed.

Rather than rebel, my stomach growled for more. One bite became another. Then a chunk. Then a piece ripped off with my bare fingers when the fork wouldn’t suffice to gather up the crumbs fast enough.