Chapter 73: When your lover is your home

“Stay away from his coffin,” Kaye told me coldly.

I shot a glare at him, panic rising in my heart.

“Why hasn't he woken up yet?” I grumbled under my breath as I looked at the wooden gothic casket. “Vale is coming for me today! And I’m scared. What if I never get to see him again?”

“That is for the best I believe.” He said, his gaze spitting hatred for me. “I would be very happy if you could just disappear from his life.”

His words pierced my chest so hard that I nearly cried. Why did he hate me so much?

Since he arrived with the casket, he had been a thorn in my flesh. One look at Hawke’s gaunt frame was all it took for me to be his arch enemy. The casket was in my private hospital. Hawke refused to have a separate suite and I got to see his discontented expression every morning for 5 days. I couldn't even sleep on the first day thinking he was gonna kill me in my sleep.

Hawke said I could trust him before he had to rest but it’s getting harder every second.

I tried to speak but I decided to save myself the trouble. I didn't want to give him the chance of saying more horrible stuff to me, so I walked back to my bed.

I squatted on the soft sheets, clenching my jaw hard. I was so frustrated I couldn’t resist throwing him a middle finger.

Had I met him before and killed his dog or brother in some forgotten past life?

His hatred felt personal even though this was, as far as I knew, the first time we’d met.

The way he looked at me, like I was some affliction stamped into Hawke’s fate, made me wonder if we’d met before and if he had told me to stay away, and I refused to listen.

If being with Hawke was all it took to earn his hatred, he better brace himself because I’m not going anywhere.

I didn't give a fuck about him and I would rather not have to deal with him.

I wished Hawke would just wake up and tell me he was here, that I was safe, that I would be okay.

I let out a sharp breath. My fingers twisted and scraped against each other, a nervous habit I’d carried since childhood. It was unsettling to realize it had never really gone away.

Each second, my nails pressed deeper into my skin, the anxiety in my chest spiraling beyond control.

I consciously glanced at the door, my heart beating fast in my chest.

Last night, Doctor Smith informed me I’d be discharged today, as my head injury had healed well and I exhibited no signs of remaining complications.

“You’ve made excellent progress,” he had said, skimming over the chart. “The swelling’s subsided, your scans are clean, and neurologically, everything looks stable. Just be sure to get plenty of rest, avoid any strenuous activity for the next few weeks, and come in if you experience dizziness, headaches, or confusion. Medically speaking, you’re clear to go home.”

He said I could go home. But I had no home.

I definitely didn't want to move into that evil, and unfeeling bloodsucker’s house but it appeared I had no choice. This morning, as if he had somehow anticipated the doctor’s visit, he sent a handwritten letter saying that his brother, Baran, would be arriving to escort us to New Orleans. But I wasn’t ready to leave. Not without Hawke.

Any moment now, I’d be expected to go and that truth made my chest tighten with frustration so sharp, I wanted to cry. But the tears didn't come.

Then the casket clattered like Hawke was moving inside it.

The sound made me jump.

My eyes snapped to Kaye. “He’s waking up!” I screamed, relief flooding my voice so fast it nearly drowned my fear.

Kaye didn’t move at first. He just stared at the casket, his jaw clenched, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe me or brace for something worse.

Then the casket groaned open with a slow, grating creak.

Kaye moved fast. Too fast for someone who had been standing in that same position for days.

He crossed the room in a blur and opened a mini-cooler that he had brought with the coffin. He pulled out a blood bag from it and swiftly, placed it into a small portable warmer. In seconds, he had poured the thick, warm liquid into a pint glass like he’d done this a hundred times before.

He caught the way my eyes lit up as I stared at the casket, and he began to walk toward me.

“Take this to him,” he said with a spiteful smirk, holding out the cup.

“What? Why?”

“Because I said so. You think you can just become his mate without understanding what that means?”

I stared at him, my stomach twisting with nausea the more I perceived the blood.

“Take this blood glass away from me. Now.” I seethed, covering my nose to block out the sharp, metallic stench. But Kaye didn’t budge.

Instead, he stepped closer, his expression hardening. “You don’t get to pick and choose now,” he said coldly. “You could have given him your blood when you knew it wouldn't kill him, but you are a selfish bitch, who’s used to other people sacrificing their lives for you.”

“What?” I stared at him in disbelief. “How could you say that! I volunteered to get fed on and he refused, okay?”

“I don’t care how you feel. Take this to him, or I’ll walk away this instant. And do not fool yourself into thinking he’ll recognize you the moment he wakes. Whatever you believe you are to him—lover, mate, blood slave—it means nothing in the face of instinct. When he rises, he will not see you. He will smell your blood. And unless there's a cup waiting for him, he’ll drink from your throat.”

I exhaled, my breaths coming out rapidly as I accepted the warm cup from him.

“I hate you,” I grunted, climbing down the bed.

Kaye didn't respond immediately after. He simply shrugged, watching me with a predator’s stillness.

“You wanted him back so badly then go give him what he needs. Let’s see if you can handle what you signed up for, little Vespera girl.”

His words dripped with ridicule, but beneath it was something else—approval? Maybe.

I held the glass tighter, my hands trembling as I stepped closer to the casket. The blood was warm, thicker than I expected, and the scent clung to the air like metal and haze.

Kaye followed after me, his voice low. “Whatever happens next, don’t run. He can sense your fear.”

“Can’t you just give it to him?” I said. “You seem to have done this countless times before.”

Before Kaye could reply, the casket flew open violently like something spring-loaded had finally snapped. The lid slammed against the roof with a force that nearly made my knees buckle.

My breath caught in my throat as Hawke sat up, fast and stiff like a machine being rebooted.

He didn’t speak. He just sniffed. Once. Twice.

Then his piercing blue eyes found mine.

When they locked on me, they were empty. Almost like he couldn't see me. Then they began to flickered with recognition and raw hunger.

For a moment, I didn’t know if it was because of my enticing blood or because he wanted to ravish me.