Beyond Blood

The Definition of Insanity

Think we might be nearing the end of book one!

Sexual Content Warning!

Chapter 17: The Definition of Insanity

For the fourth morning in a row, I woke with a start, skin slick with sweat, heart pounding in my chest, and a scream caught in my throat. A tear slipped free before the mattress dipping announced I wasn't alone this morning after all.

Taran sat on the edge of the bed with his arms braced on bare thighs and dark head hanging low. He didn't so much as twitch to alert me to the fact he'd somehow sensed my eyes flicker open before he asked, "Are you alright?"

Had I woken him? Had he slept next to me last night?

Eyeing his side of the bed told me nothing. The sheets were slightly rumpled, and his pillow was close to falling off, but that could have been me fighting off vampires in my sleep.

Every night since our disagreement, Taran disappeared down into the club and didn't come back until long after I gave up fighting sleep. Once or twice I'd even caught the sweet scent of perfume on his suit jackets and shirts before he could throw them in the basket. Instead of sleeping next to me as he had before, he slept through the day while I worked or studied, and then hid himself in his office for the few hours we were forced to cross paths.

With every day that passed, I was closer to being tossed back into my old life, and every day I told myself that was just fine by me. Having my attacker behind bars, or however he would be dealt with, would hopefully put an end to the nightmares, and constant feelings of being watched by something more terrifying than Wren. And once I was no longer under Taran's employ, even if the attack had been about undermining him there would be no reason to target me any longer. So it wouldn't matter.

"I'm fine," I answered curtly.

He gave me a quick glance then gruffly ordered, "Don't get up yet."

That was fine by me.

I lay still, watching him stand and cross the room to his chest of drawers where he raked around.

The fact his side of the bed was rumpled and he was wearing only a loose pair of dark boxers told me he'd slept next to me when he'd finished work last night, but the relief conflicted with the fact he hadn't touched me since our conversation either. I was sure he'd touched others - he'd admitted as much in our fight - that was what caused this strain between us.

Was he having sex with them too? To prove a point? Was his lack of interest in me punishment? Or something much worse – boredom.

I had to swallow a lump in my throat when Taran turned to me and flung something onto the bed. With the curtains still shut and the lights off, it took my eyes a moment to adjust as I fingered the bundle of material. It was the blue lace of one of my few underwear sets.

I glanced up at him with a raised brow but his back was already turned to me again as he moved to the wardrobe where Laura must have put away my clothes she'd brought from home.

"Put those on then kneel," he threw over his shoulder, before his nose crinkled in distaste as he pulled out a grey woollen cardigan. "I hope you're going to use some of your wages to go shopping soon."

The insult stung but all I could muster was a sleepy eye roll.

"I don't have time for this today. I have to get ready for work."

He cast me a dark look over his shoulder, a streak of light from a crack in the curtain lighting up one side of his face. A shimmer of silver over black warned me he was in a bad mood this morning, that whatever made him vampire was in control.