Bitten (Once Bitten, Twice Shy #1)(44)

She thought maybe it had something to do with wanting to erase that look in his eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was pity or something else entirely, but she wanted it gone. “I’m not fading. I feel much better.”

Bastian nodded, but his solemn expression remained.

Katherine licked her lips nervously, knowing she’d have to voice her next question or allow it to go unasked and drive her mad. “So what are my odds here?”

Bastian’s eyes locked onto hers. “Your odds?”

“Of surviving,” she clarified, wondering why she didn’t sound or feel more upset. Perhaps the fact that she might die hadn’t sunk in yet. But probably, she acknowledged, it was that she knew she could survive this – knew that the man in front of her, as much as she disliked him, wouldn’t allow her to die.

Bastian hesitated to answer her question, running an agitated hand through his already wild-looking hair. “Only about half survive the change,” he finally said.

Half. So her odds were fifty-fifty. It… it could be worse, she fought to assure herself.

“Most are men,” Bastian continued, catching Katherine off guard. “They’re strong and in peak physical condition. Women – they have less of a chance. Only a few can handle the physical and mental strains of the change.”

Katherine bit the inside of her cheek, clamping the sensitive flesh between her teeth. “So… less than half of women make it?”

Bastian looked away from her. “Less than a fourth.”

The panic Katherine suspected she was supposed to feel earlier began to hit her – forming a hard, uncomfortable knot in her stomach. “Oh.”

Oh? Was that all she had to say? Bastian had just told her she may— probably would – die and the only reaction she could conjure up was oh?

“Your odds of surviving are much higher,” he hastily explained upon seeing her expression. “You’re in good physical shape, barring your recent bout of illness, of course, and have been exposed to the company of werewolves almost since the day you’ve been bitten.”

“If my odds are so much better, then why’d I get sick?” Katherine demanded.

Bastian’s eyes hardened at her question and Katherine knew almost immediately that she’d asked the wrong thing. “You got sick because you were out gallivanting around in the rain and decided to sleep in your wet clothes. You got sick because you disobeyed orders and ran away.”

Bastian’s eyes had regained their earlier glint and as much as Katherine wanted to challenge his brazen assumptions, remind the man that he’d just told her he didn’t know how she’d gotten sick, deep down she suspected he was right. She’d done it to herself – gotten herself sick.

“Now about your punishment,” Bastian continued and she clenched her teeth together in an effort to stay quiet. “You and Caleb are responsible for preparing and serving meals for the next week – meals, I assure you, that you will eat.”

That... actually didn’t sound that bad. She wasn’t exactly the best cook, but she could make due. But there was one thing Katherine couldn’t allow.

“Don’t punish Caleb. It’s not his fault that I ran away. I tricked him.” She still felt guilty about it too.

Bastian was unrelenting, however. “I’m well aware of what happened, but whether you tricked him or not, Caleb knew better than to go against my direct orders.”

“Markus and Zane did too,” Katherine snipped before she could stop herself.

Bastian glared at her and she almost gave into the temptation to sink into her seat. “They’ve been dealt with,” he promised darkly before pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. "Caleb will wake you up around dawn tomorrow to help him prepare breakfast."

Dawn? As in five o'clock in the morning? Fabulous.

Bastian walked away from the table and was nearly out of the room when he abruptly jerked back around and looked at her. Except that he wasn't looking at her – not really. His eyes were focused on a spot above her right shoulder. "If you leave again," he warned, voice unwaveringly firm, "I won't come after you."

The I’ll leave you to die was heavily implied.

Then he turned away and left her sitting in the dining room alone. His harsh words echoed in her ears.

But she hadn’t once thought about leaving since she’d woken up, she wanted to argue to the unoccupied chair across from her. She hadn’t been trying to escape earlier – just go outside.

But why not?

She had been desperate to escape before.

As crazy as it seemed, Katherine knew the answer. “Because I believe,” she whispered to the empty room.

She sat in the dining room a few minutes longer, stewing in her realization. Feeling utterly drained, she rose from her seat, relocked the two locks she'd popped opened earlier, and made her way back into the bedroom she'd ran from not an hour earlier.

She knew now that the room must have been Bastian's. But he wasn't there. And Katherine no longer cared that the room belonged to the infuriating man – at least, not tonight. She buried herself under the bed covers – the sheets pleasantly cool against her warm skin – and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she was asleep.

She didn't dream.





CHAPTER ELEVEN