Page 117 of The Curse Trilogy

I should feel better, but I don’t. He’s probably just saying that to make me feel better.

“How did a full blood get in with the humans?” Clay gushes as he runs over to us. “Only the officials are allowed to mingle.”

“We don’t know. We came up on the fresh blood spilled. We didn’t know there was an infected until she was staring us in the eyes. Araya had to…” his words trail off as he looks into my eyes, and then he looks back up to meet Clay’s confusion and finish his sentence differently. “I’m taking Araya up to the room before… something happens. I’ll call you later.”

“Araya put her down?” Clay whispers, and the wall beside us drops several bricks out of place as the building it’s attached to shakes violently.

“Fuck. I said I’d call you later,” Hale scolds, and Clay tightens his lips as Hale rushes me back to the apartment.

He lays me on the couch, and then he swishes to the cabinets to come back with another vial of olophine. I do as I’ve done twice already, but I feel the medicine finally being abundant enough to start working.

“We really need something stronger,” I grumble while watching my wrist close back up on its own.

“Yes we do. This will have to do for now though. There’s plenty more if you need it,” he murmurs while pulling me into his lap.

“I think I’m fine now. Just hold me, please. Don’t let it take me,” I whisper out when my voice flees.

“I’m here for you, baby. Nothing is going to happen, I promise. I’ll inject you myself, and you know I will.”

I let a half laugh escape before more of my tears fall freely. He just holds me to him as I cry into his shirt, and his hand strokes my hair again while he tries to soothe me.

I killed a human.

I keep my eyes closed as Hale watches a movie because I don’t want him to know I’m awake. If he knows, he’ll try to comfort me, and I’ll start crying all over again. I’m too exhausted to cry again right now.

His arms are still wrapped around me, and every once and a while his lips press softly against my head. I’m still curled up in his lap, and his hand still strokes my hair as it has since before I fell asleep.

I hear a knock on the door, and it opens before Hale has to say anything. I can feel him tensing up around me, and I know it has to be Brazen.

No one else makes his skin crawl and his heart beat in such an angry way without saying a word.

“Is she okay? I just heard she was the one that had to put it down.”

It? It wasn’t an it. It was a she.

Tears threaten to sneak out of my sleeping eyes, but I’m able to hold them back before I give myself away.

“She’s been asleep for two hours. She had to inject herself with olophine… numerous times. She’s emotionally exhausted right now. Everything seems to keep happening to and around her. She’s not getting a second to breathe before something else slaps her in the face,” Hale says so softly while his lips stroke my cheek.

“I was hoping I could stick around until she wakes up. I brought her something I know she’ll be asking for when she gets a minute to wrap her head around things.”

Now I’m almost curious enough to open my eyes, but I know if I do, they’ll both be trying to soothe me. I can’t handle that right now.

“What is it?”

“The infected woman’s personal file. I gathered everything I could when they told me Araya had to take her down before she fully turned. I know she’ll want to know everything about her, and I think this might help her feel a little better.”

Tears burn as they water up and seep out of my eyes to drip on the gentle arm supporting my head. Hale sighs as he pulls me up, and his lips rest against my teary cheeks before they play lightly on my lips.

“I know you’re awake, baby,” he coos, and I open my eyes to let the remainder of the trapped tears fall free.

Brazen’s eyes carry a heavy amount of pity, forcing my shameful ones to look away. He hands me the file as I shift to be on the couch. I take a deep breath, and more tears pour out when I’m unable to open the folder.

“You don’t have to look,” Hale says so warmly, and then he slides me back into his lap.

“I want to. I need to know who she was,” I whimper, and then I finally open it up to see what the woman should have looked like.

Her light blond hair was curly, and her golden brown eyes were soft but slightly jaded. She lived a hard life according to her file. She was in and out of trouble, and she had a reputation for blood running. Most importantly, she’s not a mother.