Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
24 - Syrsee
He made us him.
Paul doesn’t wait for Ryet, or me, to give him permission to leave. He simply disappears.
Ryet lets out a breath, his eyes lingering on the empty space that once contained Paul. It takes a few seconds for that spell to be broken and for him to redirect his gaze and attention to me. “Are you all right?”
I scoff. “Am I all right?” But it doesn’t come out mean. Because… actually, I think I am all right. “I… feel hungry, but other than that?” I shrug. “I don’t know Ryet. Some crazy shit just happened to us and I don’t even remember it all.”
“Right?” He scoffs too, then takes my hand and pulls me down to the ground, our backs resting against a library stack. He guides me into his lap. We’re naked, and sweaty, and bloody.
Also, not real?
“Ryet?”
“Hmm?” He’s looking up at me with a blank expression.
“What’s it all mean?”
He chuckles a little. “Well, my guess is…” He nods his head. “We’re…”
“Fucked?” We both laugh. It’s not funny, not even a little bit, but it’s more of a hysterical laugh than anything amusing.
“Yeah, Syrsee. I think ‘fucked’ is the right word.”
“So what do we do?”
He blows out a breath. “I’m not sure we have much of a choice. I don’t understand what this is, either.” He motions to the library. It’s not real. It’s in the magic… whatever the purple and gold is. “But here’s my takeaway from that whole word salad Paul just spewed at us—we’re something between alive and dead, but with powers to act like we’re alive.”
“Yeah. I caught that too. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t think we need to worry about that. Yet. I think we just go to the Guild and bide our time. Read the books.” I smile at him when he says this. “You’ll read the books, at least. Remember? This was our plan before everything went sideways with the blood. I’ll give myself to them, you’ll get the books, and we’ll… figure it out. It’s really the only choice we have.”
I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder. I don’t do this to get closer to the blood flowing through his jugular, but I’m, actually, very close. So close I can smell the blood. And suddenly I am so hungry, I have an urge to bite him.
Ryet pulls away, like he senses this. “Are you OK, Syrsee?”
“I don’t know. I’m hungry again. For you.”
“You need a drink?”
“I think so.” He raises his palm to his mouth, but I grab it. “No. Not the palm.”
“My neck?” He doesn’t even try to hide his surprise. “But you don’t have fangs, Syrsee.”
I know this. What I’m asking is gross. I want to bite his neck with blunt human teeth. But I don’t say anything. I just… let him try the idea out.
So it’s his decision when he says, “Fine. If that’s what you need, then do it.”
I’m already leaning in, ready to take that bite out of his neck, when I hear, “No.”
And when I look up Paul is back. I meet his gaze, embarrassed for some reason. And then pull back, away from Ryet, ashamed.
Paul bends down to us. But he’s only looking at me, not Ryet. I’m about to start apologizing for being a sick, disgusting monster when he says, “I’ll do it.” We stare at each other for a moment. Then he directs his gaze to Ryet. “If that’s OK with you.”
Ryet goes tense beneath me. Paul made his feelings for Ryet pretty clear in that little speech of his before he left us alone, but I’m not sure what Ryet’s feelings actually are for Paul. It’s not hate, even though I think Ryet wishes it were. But it’s not love, either. At least, he doesn’t look at Paul the way he looks at me. There is a difference between us.
But I know he feels something for Paul. Something he probably can’t quite explain, either.
“She needs it,” Paul says, still looking at Ryet. “She’s addicted. She’s going to keep needing it.” His eyes shift over to mine. “At least for a while.” Which implies that there will come a day when I won’t.
And even though I’m in the midst of a blood-addiction craving that makes me feel dirty, and sinful, and vile—I’m already missing the future me who will never want this blood again. Which makes me feel even more wicked.
The weird thing, though, is that I don’t care. It doesn’t bother me in the least if I’m a vile, sinful, dirty blood whore. I. Just. Want more blood.
“Fine,” Ryet says. “Do it.”
Paul sits down on the ground next to Ryet, turning his body in to him. Ryet tilts his head towards Paul, exposing his neck, just as Paul lowers his mouth down. Teeth appear, sharp and pointy, and then, in one quick motion, so fast I barely see it, he bites Ryet. Leaving two puncture marks behind, dripping blood.