“Griffin, please…” I reached for it and he placed it in my hands.
“Small sips,” he told me gently. “In case I’m wrong—but I don’t think I am.”
I put the straw to my lips and sucked experimentally. My mouth was suddenly full of a salty, meaty liquid that seemed to be exactly what I needed. I took another sip—another gulp, really—and swallowed eagerly. I felt as though my whole body was coming alive—waking up and unfolding the way a flower unfolds when the sunlight caresses it.
My shivering stopped completely and I felt well and whole instead of horribly fragile. My sore throat was soothed and best of all the thirst—that terrible thirst which had been my constant companion this entire week—was finally quenched.
“Oh God, Griffin,” I nearly moaned as I finished off the entire cup and licked my lips. “That was so good and I feel so much better! What was it?”
Griffin looked at me grimly.
“Blood, Kaitlyn,” he said flatly. “You just drank an entire cup of blood.”
29
Kaitlyn
“Blood?” I put a hand to my throat, feeling sick. “You gave me blood to drink?”
“Griffin, why would you do that?” Megan asked him, sounding bewildered.
“Because I thought it very likely that Kaitlyn needed it. And I was right.”
Griffin’s pale eyes glittered coldly and it occurred to me that the tall Nocturne was absolutely furious. But what or who was he mad at? Not me, I didn’t think—I hoped not, at least.
“I…I do feel a lot better,” I admitted in a small voice. “But…I don’t understand why.”
“I do,” Griffin said shortly, his fury still palpable in the small room.
“But—” I began but just then another voice interrupted me.
“Hello? Is this where they’re keeping Kaitlyn Fellows?”
The new voice startled everyone and all eyes turned towards the door of the exam room.
I was surprised to see Alistair Breedlove standing in the doorway, a quizzical look on his cool, handsome features. His blond hair was perfectly coifed and he had his hands in the pockets of his hand-tailored dress trousers. His button down Egyptian cotton shirt was rolled up casually at the elbows and the Italian driving loafers he was wearing probably cost at least as much as a semester’s tuition here at the Academy.
He looked like what he was—a rich, privileged Nocturne. And, as always when I stared too long at him or his wife, I remembered what a small, grubby, scarred human I was. I was suddenly aware that my damp hair had been pushed out of my face and the scarred left side was on display. Hastily, I rearranged it to hide my ugly imperfection and tried to sit up in the cot.
“Mr. Breedlove—what are you doing here?” I asked, my voice raspy with uncertainty.
“Why, looking for you, Kaitlyn,” he said, as a frown creased his perfect features. “What are you doing back here? Someone said you fell in the lake but why would that necessitate a trip to the Healer’s office?”
I started to answer, but Griffin stepped forward and spoke before I could.
“It wasn’t the fall into the lake that brought her here—it was you,” he said, glaring at the other Nocturne coldly.
“Me?” Alastair Breedlove put a hand to his chest in apparent surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” Griffin growled. “How long have you been abusing Kaitlyn? How long have you been taking advantage of her, Breedlove?”
The bewildered look on Mr. Breedlove’s face grew cold and hostile.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—Darkheart, isn’t it? Yes, I recognize you—of course, everyone does. You were Censured by the Other Elders Council. Censured for murder. So I think you’d better think twice before accusing someone else of any kind of crime.”
“Griffin was cleared of those killings—they were perpetrated by Winifred Rattcliff, the former head of the Windermere Coven!” Megan said hotly. “How dare you even bring that up when you know good and well that Griffin is innocent?”
“He’s as innocent as I am, then,” Mr. Breedlove said, frowning. “How dare he accuse me of abusing a dependent? A dependent whose tuition I pay and whom I gave a home to after her parents died, I might add,” he said, lifting his chin and giving Griffin a virtuous look.
Up until that moment I had been so stunned I couldn’t talk. But I finally found my tongue.
“Yes, Mr. Breedlove does do all that for me!” I exclaimed. “And I’m very grateful to him and to Mrs. Breedlove.”
“Please, Kaitlyn—you don’t have to defend him,” Griffin said quietly but there was still rage dancing in his eyes. “It’s very clear what he did to you.”
“What?” I asked, honestly confused. “What are you talking about, Griffin? What makes you think that Mr. Breedlove abused me in some way?”
“Because…” He turned to me, his pale eyes flashing. “Because you’re turning into a vampire, Kaitlyn. A Made Vampire—the one kind of Nocturne which is forbidden to exist.”