No, the attack definitely happened and based on how well the wound had healed it had been a while since it happened. Keeping her hand where it was, she sent one last glare at the bastard out cold on the bed and walked into the bathroom, flicking the light on as she went. Maybe there was a scab or bruises left, something that would give her a hint of how long……of how…..
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!”
The denial rushed out of her mouth as she shook her head frantically. She stumbled back the short distance until her back slammed back against the wall, leaving her with no where else to go, nowhere to hide from the ugly truth that stared back at her in horror.
This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. There was no way. This part was definitely a dream, a horrible dream that she would wake up from at any minute. She’d most likely be in a lot of pain, her neck still torn apart and the bastard would still be tearing into her throat, but it would save her from this nightmare and right now that was okay with her.
She stared in horror at the image in the mirror as it stared right back at her, looking terrified. This wasn’t her. She didn’t have red eyes and she sure as hell didn’t have fangs in her mouth. This was not happening.
“Please don’t let this be happening,” she mumbled, feeling desperate as she raised a trembling hand to her mouth, praying that this was someone’s idea of a sick joke. She touched the tip of one fang with her fingertip, hoping the pressure would be enough to knock the obviously fake tooth out of her mouth.
Instead, she pulled her finger back with a wince as the sharp tip pricked her finger, drawing a drop of blood. This was real. It wasn’t a dream. It was either that or her mind was registering pain that her unconscious body was experiencing at the moment and carrying it into this dream. Please let it be-
“You’re not dreaming,” a deep voice suddenly announced, cutting into her panicked thoughts and drawing her attention to three very large, and very gorgeous men, standing in the hotel room behind her.
“Yes, I am,” she said weakly, hating how her voice cracked, but hating the way her chin trembled even more.
“Why don’t we have a seat and I’ll see if I can explain everything without scaring you,” the tallest of the three men, the one with jet black hair and baby blue eyes, suggested with what appeared to be a friendly smile, but that’s not what had her reluctantly nodding and doing what he asked.
He had the tone of a cop, a seasoned one at that. He appeared professional, calm and understanding, which made her relax just enough to agree to sit down and hear him out. It was either that or losing it and right now she didn’t think that she could handle losing it. She was afraid that if she lost it that there would be no coming back this time. In the back of her mind she realized that she was most likely in shock, which was probably the real reason why she was going along with this so calmly.
Never taking her eyes off the three men that made no secret of watching her every move, she took the seat by the door, needing to know that she could leave if she had to. With another one of those reassuring smiles, the tall, devastatingly handsome man sat opposite her while the largest of the three men, the one with dark brown hair, killer green eyes and a nasty pink scar on his neck, sat down on the corner of the bed she’d found herself lying on barely a half hour ago.
His attention was on her, but she could tell by the way he’d angled himself that he was keeping an eye on Christofer as well. When he raised his right hand to rub the back of his neck, she noted the white gauze wrapped around his wrist. She quickly noted that the man sitting across from her also had white gauze wrapped around his right wrist. Frowning, her attention shot to the man leaning back against the wall, his murderous glare focused on her. Feeling a little unnerved by his attention, she quickly noted that he didn’t have any white gauze on his right wrist and focused her attention back on the man sitting across from her.
“How are you feeling, Cloe?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, his attention never leaving her, his expression curious as though her answer was important to him.
“Fine,” she mumbled absently as she caught the sound of a cart being pushed past their room, the noise of a squeaky wheel had her wincing and wondering just how thin the room’s walls were.
If she screamed for help, would anyone hear her, she wondered, trying not to cringe as that same cart came to a stop in front of their door. The sounds of overly starched cotton rubbing together and sneakers shifting on gravel had her wincing at the sudden assault to her ears. Before she could recover or even wonder what that was about, the assault on her nose immediately followed.
The coppery tang scent of old blood, expensive aftershave, sweat, dust, old cigarette smoke, body odor and a thousand odors that she could have happily lived her life without ever smelling together again, seemed to be hitting her all at once. Just when she didn’t think that she could handle anymore, an extremely sweet fragrance hit her, making her stomach growl in hunger and her gums throb painfully. She tried to breathe through her mouth, but that just ended up making her gag when she realized that she could actually taste the scents in the air. The assault on her ears intensified. The shades of red that refused to go away seemed to sharpen, become brighter and darker until she couldn’t take it anymore. She was forced to squeeze her eyes shut, cup her hands over her ears and hold her breath, gagging again as the sounds around the room seemed to explode, shooting sharp pain through her head.
“When was the last time she ate?” the man sitting across from her suddenly seemed to shout.
“Please don’t yell,” Cloe whispered, too afraid to raise her voice, but even the sound of her whisper was too much to take. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything else.
The sounds of the cart being pushed away, of the men breathing and moving, ricocheted through her head, made staying upright impossible. She needed to lie down or find a bathroom, she decided as the pain shooting through her head had a nasty effect on her stomach. Opening one eye just so that she could get a general sense of where the bed was, she quickly shut it. She stumbled to her feet and hauled ass across the room, not stopping until she was curled up on the bed, her face buried against Christofer’s chest. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and held on, terrified that one of the men was going to drag her away.
Right now it didn’t matter that he was a monster or that he’d tried to kill her. The only thing that mattered to her was the way he made her feel, safe. She knew that the feeling was false, but right now she really didn’t give a damn, not when being next to him helped. It also didn’t hurt that his scent seemed to make everything better. She could still smell the old coppery smell of blood coming off him, but just barely. Needing an escape from this sensory overload, she kept her face buried against him, her hand fisted in his shirt and worked on ignoring everything else until she finally felt herself relax and drift off. This time she decided not to fight it, not even when she felt the bastard beneath her begin to stir.
*-*-*-*
“Try not to move,” a man whispered before Christofer had a chance to open his eyes. “She just fell asleep and unless you want her in pain, you’ll let her stay that way.”
He didn’t need to ask to know that Cloe was lying on top of him, holding onto him for dear life. Slowly, he opened his eyes, opening his senses and taking in his surroundings. His gaze shot down to Cloe, needing to make sure that she was really okay. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were worse, but her skin color was good, she felt warm against him and her heartbeat was strong and steady, which meant….