Page 34 of Desired for Her Blood

I nod.

“When you were twenty?”

“More or less. Can’t be sure.” Memories overtake me and I tighten my body to hide the trembling rising inside me.

I close my eyes. My breaths shallow as the walls of the cave close in, and the air goes stale. Everything is so close, too close—even Ember beside me.

Fuck. Pull it together man!

My throat squeezes shut. My heart races.

I’m choking. I willnothave a panic attack in front of Ember. I draw long breaths to fight the rising tension inside me, fighting to tamp down the rising horrors.

“You’re shaking.” She moves the blanket to cover me too.

I leap up, throwing the blanket off me and race toward the blocked exit.

I slam my fist against the boulders until I draw blood, and then sink down into a tight crouch, wishing I could vanish. Anything to not be trapped in here. Anything to hide my weakness from her.

“Ryker.” Her voice comes softly from behind me. “Take deep breaths. I’m here. You’re okay.”

Air shudders into me on shards of glass. Logic tells me that I can survive a long time without drawing air, but my body disagrees even though each shallow breath brings pain.

“Can I touch you?” she asks softly.

My head in my hands, I nod.

Her hands slide onto my back, slipping over the scarred evidence of the savage things that happened to me in those horrific years before I was turned.

And it’s like her hands bring more memories to the surface, rising from my body like my scars. But her fingers not only raise the memories, they also soothe them, her gentle touch diluting their pain.

Keeping my gaze averted, I slowly rise from my crouch and turn to take her into my arms, not sure I can bear the sight of her just yet. I can still barely breathe.

I’m so humiliated. She must think me so weak.

But her fingers continue to stroke my skin and she presses soft kisses against my chest.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“You’resorry?” Shocked, I lean back and look into her eyes, and the compassion and understanding I see there almost flattens me. “Why?”

“For pushing you to talk about things that…that are clearly painful.” She shakes her head. “I should know better.”

“No.” I take her face in my hands. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. And…” I shake my head, barely believing what I’m about to say. “Although this shit happened three and a half centuries ago, I’ve never toldanyonewhat happened to me. Haven’t told anyone how I was turned.” Except in a joking way. “Not a soul.”

“You don’t have to.” She smiles up into my eyes.

“But Iwantto.” I kiss her forehead. “I want to tell you everything.” I can’t believe the words are coming out of my mouth, but feel like a three-ton weight has been lifted from my chest, a storm cloud from my mind.

Draping my arm over her shoulders, I walk us back to the furs to sit. I position her facing away from me, and wrap the blanket over her as she sits between my legs. Folding my legs and arms around her, I hold her close, her back against my chest.

“How did it happen?” she asks, reaching up to stroke my cheek as she leans back.

“I’d gotten bigger, stronger, I’d filled out—” my throat tightens.

I take a long pause and she remains still against me. Her heart’s beating quickly, but she’s trying to breathe slowly, as if encouraging me to do the same, and allowing me to tell my tale at my own pace.

I love that about her. It’s like she can sense what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, what I need.