Chapter 17: *CHAPTER 17*

A whimper of relief slipped through my lips as the creature who'd just been ripping into me with his teeth like I was an all-you-can-eat buffet stumbled back a step. The monster blazed into a roiling fire so fast it was as if he'd been doused in gasoline. He let out a sickening groan—a sound almost worse than if he'd screamed—and slumped into a thrashing pile at my feet.

My view of the burning monster was instantly blocked by Malcolm's broad form as he strode across the small space to crouch over me. With large steady hands, he gripped me around my torso and hauled me unceremoniously to my feet. I didn't protest as I was towed away from the danger zone of the fire. My legs shook so badly that he lowered me into one of my mismatched kitchen chairs.

The creature's smell of rot was overtaken by the smell of smoke filling my nose. I clenched my lips together to fight the growing urge to throw up all over the floor. I couldn't rip my eyes away from the flaming, thrashing monster in the middle of my floor. There was the distant sound of Malcolm swearing as he followed my gaze to the burning creature turning the middle of my entryway into a barbecue. His voice came off muffled in the buzzing mess my mind had become.

"That fire really comes in handy, huh?" I babbled on a cough over the smoke in the room, finally breaking the silence. Malcolm didn't respond at first and a part of me was surprised he wasn't taking this moment to gloat about saving my life.

Facing away from me, shoulders tense he asked, "Do you hear it?"

"Hear what?" My voice was still shaky as the adrenaline from earlier pumped its way through my veins. I worked my fingers over my forehead in an attempt to alleviate the aching in my skull.

Holy crap, that creepy thing had just tried to eat me. I shivered again, the nausea building.

Malcolm spun to face me, his expression tense. I was startled to see that the typical tan shade of his skin was unnaturally pale, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He wasn't looking so good.

"Do. You. Hear. It?" He asked again and I blinked at him in confusion. What— And then I swore. Because while I heard what he had said to me, I realized that he wasn't moving his mouth.

He wasn't speaking.

He wasn't speaking, but I was hearing his voice in my head.

"And while we're bringing up people's appearances, you don't look any better than me." He grumbled under his breath.

My mouth dropped open, "H-how is this happening?"

"It would seem our Curse is finally setting in," He rubbed the Curse Mark on his forearm which was the twin to mine. The swirling and twined marks on my own arm burned like it had been nicked by Malcolm's fire.

As our eyes locked across the small space, something happened. There was a tugging in the center of my chest like a tether pulling in Malcolm’s direction. Like something was being cemented into place. Something strong and otherworldly snapping into place. My heartbeat quickened in my chest.

No. Oh, no. I clenched my lips together, the nausea coming in another wave. Don't throw up, don't throw up.

'And for the love of it all,' Malcolm's voice reverberated through my head, the sound coming louder now that the buzzing was lowering to a dull thrum of blood rushing in my ears. 'Stop thinking about throwing up. You're going to make me throw up.'

I winced, "Stop listening to my thoughts."

"What a great idea," he turned on me, sarcasm dripping from every word, "I wonder why I hadn't thought of that. And how would you suggest I stop?"

I was panicking now. A full-blown panic. Having someone in my head--having Malcolm in my head-- made me feel exposed in a way I actively tried to avoid. I took some deep breaths through my nose trying to calm myself, tried to clear my head of thoughts that Malcolm might hear.

As I focused on calming myself, I watched Malcolm pull a cell phone from his back pocket and put it to his ear. I couldn't get my mind to focus on what he was saying, choosing instead to focus on my breathing—on maintaining any semblance of calm that I could. I distantly heard him say Richard's name into the phone's receiver.

I didn't feel so hot. On top of the nausea and the panic and the burning in my arm, my shoulder was really starting to hurt. I swayed in my seat at the kitchen table. Malcolm disconnected the call after a moment. Turning back to me, his face tensed.

'Shit, I forgot about the bite.'

He stalked over to me in two rushed steps to kneel beside my chair. His eyes dragged over me, snagging on the ragged bite mark on my shoulder. I don’t think I was imagining the worry darkening his eyes. I swayed again, feeling more light-headed by the second.

"Vampires secrete venom when they bite," he said, "it makes it so their victims have a harder time escaping. The lightheadedness you're feeling right now is the effects of the toxins."

Holy crap. That thing was a vampire. A vampire, vampire.

"How long will it last?" I slurred, still swaying. My head felt like it was disconnecting from my body. I was floating on clouds--well part of me was anyway. I couldn't decide if it was my head or my body.

"In my experience, it usually runs its course in about fifteen minutes."

I squinted at him, trying to get my vision to stop spinning, "You've been bitten before?"

His eyes moved up from the bite on my shoulder, settling on my face, "Once. A long time ago."

He leaned closer, eying the wound, "You mind if I take a closer look at it?"

I eyed him suspiciously, "Why?" His close proximity was doing strange things to my heartbeat. My pulse was racing so fast that my blood was a hollow rushing sound in my ears. That new tugging band of sensation in my chest just got stronger the closer he got to me. My skin felt hot and tight and tingly with him being so close. What was wrong with me? Was this the venom?

"I need to make sure you're not having any adverse reactions to the toxins. Some humans do." He cocked his head, leaning closer.

"Knock yourself out." I slurred. The room started its spinning again as Malcolm moved the shredded hole in my shirt around to check the surrounding skin. His hands were surprisingly gentle where they came in contact with my skin, calloused fingers hot where they brushed me.

When he touched the sensitive skin of my neck to move the shirt around, it was like an explosion set off in my blood. His fingers were hot and the contact of his skin on mine felt so good, I had to bite back a moan. My hand suddenly had a mind of its own, reaching up to grab his arm. My fingers wrapped around the wrist of the hand that was pulling back my shirt.