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GWYN

When I open my eyes, I can’t see anything, and I’m so fucking cold. Something is desperately wrong. The duct tape was removed a while ago, but I’m too weak to talk. Lifting my hand is a task, and I don’t know what I’m reaching for, but I find cool metal instead of air.

She’s put me inside one of those fucking cadaver cabinets.

I nearly vomit when she slides the tray out, and I gasp for air. It’s all my body can do. I’m sluggish and exhausted, and I don’t think I can fight them.

“If we take any more, she could die.”

“Do it.”

My fangs are stuck out, and my mouth is so dry. I need to drink, but I don’t know if just anyone will do. Roman’s blood is all I crave as I lie here on the cold metal.

“Sir, we need to hydrate her. Give her food. She cannot replenish?—”

“I’m done with this experiment. It will either work with her blood or it won’t. Having her here makes me uneasy.”

“Okay. Fine.”

“Motherfucker,” I whisper as he leaves, and the door shuts behind him. My lips are dry enough that when I speak, my skin splits. “So much for helping me,” I croak.

“I don’t know what’s taking them so long,” Caitriona responds. “He should have received my message by now.”

I laugh, and my body aches. “You know, it’s stupid but every time I decide I don’t want to die, someone tries to kill me. I can never get the timing right.”

“Drink this—as fast as you can,” she says, shoving a blood bag to my lips. I wrinkle my nose because I know it’s my own.

“This feels like drinking your own pee in a desert,” I say, but I draw deep.

Within seconds, the bag is empty, and I feel incrementally better.

I expected a burst of apple on my tongue like Roman has described in the past. Margot always thought my blood tasted like one of those red, white, and blue popsicles, and I know that to them, my blood coaxes their best memories to the forefront.

It would have been nice to experience in the moments before I die, but to me, it only tastes like blood.

It should taste of smoke and mint and leather.

“Just hold on,” Caitriona says, before reopening the cut on her palm. She drips a single drop of her blood on my chest before pressing her wound to my mouth. She murmurs an incantation as I drink, and I’m blissfully asleep within a heartbeat.