Willing (The Un 1) - Page 98

To shove my fingers into my mouth and suck all the blood off them, one by one.

I almost do it, lifting my hand to my lips.

One lick. I only need one little lick…

“Chloe,” Asher commands, forcing my eyes to him.

He steps around Isaac and reaches his hand out to me, urging me to take it.

Always reaching for me.

Realizing what I was about to do, I stare at my own hand in horror.

Then I take a step back and vanish.

Twenty-Four

Chloe

When I snap in place, I find myself in a small bathroom. Directly in front of me is a mirror and sink.

I can sense the presence of the others below me, close together at first, then moving and spreading out.

“Chloe!” Asher roars, the power of his voice vibrating through the house’s wooden skeleton.

He’s both angry and afraid. His emotions finally pulsing through our bond once more as he searches for me.

I want to reassure him, to let him know I haven’t gone far, but I’m too fucked up to figure out how.

Stumbling forward, I grab the knobs of the sink and twist both on, causing water to blast out of the faucet. I need to get Isaac’s blood off me before I do what my body is urging me to do.

I don’t want to eat my friend.

My stomach cramps again when I shove my hands under the water.

Mouth filling with saliva and fangs stabbing into my lip, I squeeze my eyes shut.

Even the diluted red swirling down the drain is a temptation. I can imagine myself plugging the sink and slurping it up like a cat lapping up milk.

Rubbing my hands together, I scrub at the blood coating my skin. Doing my best to not think about how it feels thicker than the water.

Or how it probably tastes like honey.

A sweet, delicious honey that will make the hunger go away.

One lick, a voice purrs inside my head. Just one lick…

Shaking my head, I scrub harder at my hands, nearly taking off my own skin.

When it feels like my hands are finally clean, I open my eyes and see blood still dripping down my arms.

“Fuck,” I groan and look away, my eyes catching the mirror as I struggle to work my arms under the short faucet.

A face I don’t recognize stares back at me.

Complexion smooth and flawless, the woman in the mirror is as unearthly and beautiful as Asher.

Eyes the color of a dark rain clouds, her mass of silky blonde curls is wild around her head, giving the impression that she just went through some shit.

When I frown, she frowns back.

Startled, I watch her eyes widen with my own surprise. Then I lift my hand.

Her hand drips the same bloody water.

She’s me, I realize.

My reflection smiles a wicked smile and her gray eyes flash to red.

Do it, Chloe, she urges. One lick. No one will know.

Her hand lifts to her mouth and she licks and sucks the bloody water from her fingers with a look of utter delight.

It will be our dirty little secret.

Shoving away from the sink, I stumble toward the door. Around me, the world spins, and a red haze creeps into my vision.

You’re starving, my inner monster screams inside my head, you need to eat or you’ll die!

My hand wraps around the door handle but before I can twist it my entire body seizes up in a cramp.

Red swirls into black.

Take a rest, she purrs next, I’ll take care of it.

Darkness pulls at me, trying to wrap me up in its loving arms, tempting me with the option to no longer be again.

All I have to do is let go and the other side of me will take care of everything.

Close your eyes and let me do the driving. You probably don’t want to see this…

Another full-body cramp locks up my muscles, wringing a cry of pain out of me when I resist.

Everything will be alright. Trust me.

The handle is ripped out of my hand and the door flies open.

“Chloe,” Asher exhales as if he’s been holding his breath.

Eyes bright with emotion, he storms forward and sweeps me up into his arms, lifting me off my feet.

Confused and thinking the darkness is holding me, I shove my palms against his hard shoulders and arch away. Fighting him.

I try to vanish, but I’m stuck, his arms flexing around me and keeping me trapped.

Asher slams me up against the wall, pinning my hips with his hips.

“Calm, my love, and let me help you,” he says, his voice full of tenderness.

Shaking my head back and forth, I twist and thrash, trying to slip out of his hold. “Don’t touch me! Let me go!” I demand.

Everywhere he’s touching me hurts. Every inch of my skin is sensitive and sore, as if I’m one giant bruise.

He frowns, his brow furrowing with concern. “No. You need to eat.”

Tags: Izzy Sweet, Sean Moriarty The Un Fantasy
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