The Thief (Black Dagger Brotherhood #16)(109)

“And what do I look like now. How have I changed.”

That last one was not a question. It was a challenge.

She shrugged. “You’re a lot…healthier. Stronger. More yourself.”

“How many days has it been, Marisol.”

Now she frowned. “I don’t know. Three. Four?”

“What about my hair?” He pulled at the lengths that were easily two or three times as long as they had been. “How is it different?”

As he continued to push her, the change in her was minute, but powerful. Instead of being animated by anger, she stilled and seemed to barely breathe.

“Think about where I was compared to what I am as I stand before you now,” he said roughly. “And admit to yourself that you’ve noticed these things over the past couple of days and questioned how it was possible. You’ve seen how much weight I’m putting on so quickly, how fast I’ve rebounded. I know you’ve seen the difference, but you’ve put it to the back of your mind, haven’t you. You’ve wondered—but then been so grateful I was okay that you just…” He made a poofing motion next to his head. “Didn’t dwell on it.”

Marisol crossed her arms around her torso. “So. You’re better.”

“Ask yourself how. Ask yourself…why. And the answer will not add up. It’s too much improvement too quickly, and you know I’ve hidden nothing because you’ve seen me without my clothes. You know something doesn’t seem right about me. You’ve sensed it for a very long time—since the first moment I confronted you when you were tracking me. It’s always been there in the background, but there were too many reasons not to look too closely into it.”

The fact that she took a step back from him broke his heart. But he reminded himself that this was the inevitable end—and he would bear the burden, not her.

He would tell her the truth and then, given that her grandmother would soon be free to leave the clinic, he would strike both their memories. Yes, he could have just done the latter without revealing himself, but his love for Marisol meant that he had to come clean and feel her disgust and anger—because he deserved both. And there was another reason to do it. He was soon to feed from Ghisele again, and at least this way, he would not run the risk of a sexual liaison with Marisol where she could be hurt. Or have something taken from her without her knowing what was happening.

As a bonded male, he was just too dangerous.

“Isn’t that right, Marisol? You have wondered about things, things you can’t understand and can’t explain.”

“Yes,” she whispered, her brown eyes wide.

“Your hand is on your neck.”

“Is it.”

“Yes. When you looked in the mirror in the bathroom, and you saw the bruises there, what did you tell yourself?”

Her voice became very quiet. “Nothing.”

“Did you get your period? When you were in the shower, there was blood in the drain—did you get your period.”

Marisol’s eyes shifted away. “Ah, no. No, I didn’t.”

He had to wait for that stare to return to him. “I am not like you, Marisol. I am…so sorry. But I am not one of you.”

Abruptly, he saw her chest begin to pump up and down, faster and faster. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry. I am more sorry than you will ever know.”

With that, he curled his upper lip from his fangs and descended his canines, releasing a growl.



* * *



—

Sola could hear nothing but the thunderous beat of her heart as the man she had thought she’d known stood before her, revealing…fangs. Fangs that she would have argued were cosmetic—except for the fact that they moved.

They grew longer in front of her very eyes.

“I am so sorry, Marisol.”

Or at least that was what Assail must have said. She couldn’t hear a goddamn thing.

Her eyes traveled over his face, his neck…his pecs…those abs. And she saw clearly what she had, in fact, wondered about without acknowledging: In the last forty-eight hours especially, he had appeared to put on fifty pounds of muscle, his skin no longer loose, his body beginning to return to its previous condition.

In quick succession, other things filtered through her mind: She had never seen him out in the daylight. His glass house was shrouded in strange drapes she had assumed were for privacy, but now? Then there were the lights that went on and off. The people that—

Dizziness swept through her. His cousins. Everyone here in this facility.

Doc Jane coming and going from his house even though, now that she thought about it, there hadn’t been any cars on the drive to drop her off or pick her up. The same had been true of Rhage. Ehric and Evale…

Then Sola remembered the blood around the drain in the shower…and the bruises at her throat. Over her…jugular. “Oh…God.”

Without conscious thought, she turned and bolted out of the room, running as fast and as hard as she could, pounding down that corridor with no destination in mind—just high-octane panic energizing her body.

Except then a bright glow became her goal, as if it were the horizon, as if it were freedom, and as she closed in on it, she tore open a glass door and shot through into—