Pulse

Chapter 32

Cian

I blinked into the darkness, at first seeing nothing but the faint outline of my nightstand before me. I groaned, my bones aching, specifically my shoulder blades. I blinked again.

Vinny's hand was on my wrist.

I stared at it, at his pale fingers curled against my sun-kissed skin, and took in a breath. Since when...?

"Vinny?" I croaked, but he vanished away into the inky dark, and I realized with a start I'd imagined it, imagined him.

I was alone.

I drew in a shaky breath, my throat scratchy, and used my trembling arms to shove myself up to a seated position. Every inch of me rebelled against the movement, my back screaming in pain, temples throbbing, eyes burning. I was not okay.

And I knew I was not okay.

But worrying Lucie was the last thing I was going to do.

I already knew what was going to happen if I told anyone, anyway, and it wouldn't be good. There would be no returning for me, so for now, I had to figure out another way.

A cough rattled my lungs as I dragged myself out of bed, stumbling and catching myself white-knuckled against the nightstand. My heart was a drum in my chest, beating and beating and never stopping, accelerating the more I listened to it. More than once I had to blink away the stars in my vision.

The moonlight cut a clear path through my room like the gleam off a blade, and using it, I staggered across my bedroom and to the hallway. I needed to get away for a moment, to clear my head and figure out what the plan was.

Then again, I thought as I shuffled feebly across the floor, how could someone plan against this? There was demon venom snaking its way through my veins. Who knew how long I'd last? I didn't have time.

The most painful part was that I knew the aches and the pains were just the beginning.

It was a stroke of luck I made it to the hall bathroom without keeling over. I flicked on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness, and leaned myself over the sink. The house was silent around me, no noise but my ragged breath and the tap water running down the drain. I splashed some onto my face, the droplets catching on my eyelashes. I coughed, something inside my chest spasming.

You are being stupid.

I knew that.

My fingers shook as I gripped the sink's edge, the porcelain biting almost painfully into my torso as I balanced against it. My eyes lifted from the spilling water to the mirror in front of me, and I sucked in a hesitant breath, the scent of Mom's lavender soap assaulting my nostrils as I did.

My face was pale and lurid, and black centipede-like veins rested underneath the skin of my neck. I touched one tentatively, wincing at the tenderness, muttering under my breath. The skin underneath my eyes had turned a frightening blue-black hue, my hair a sweaty halo over my eyebrows.

I coughed again, dropping my gaze. "Crap," I said, my voice scraped hollow.

A knock sounded on the doorframe, and I jumped, turning to see my father standing there. His face was scrunched up in a yawn, hair askew and pajamas wrinkled. Great. Company was certainly something I needed at the moment.

"Cian?" he said, then rubbed his bleary eyes and looked at me. I rolled my eyes at the shocked look on his face. "You alright, son?"

I turned away, scrutinizing the sink's drain. "I'm fine, Dad. Go back to bed."

The folding of his arms seemed to transfer into his tone; a part of me wondered how he could sound so authoritative this early in the morning. Was it morning yet? I thought so. I hadn't thought to check a clock. "I could say to the same to you," Dad replied. He sighed. "What's with you lately, huh? You yell at your mother and me, and then—"

"Yeah, I yelled at you," I snapped. "You guys are a load of cowards, you know that? Vinny was almost gone, and what did you do? Stand there and do nothing. God forbid Lucie and I had never showed up, or he would be gone now. Do you know how much that would kill me? Do you, Dad, or are you too busy to care?"

"This Lucie girl, huh?" Dad said, as if that was an answer to my question, which I had not intended to be rhetorical. I gritted my teeth. Some days I just couldn't deal with my parents. I didn't understand how their narrow little brains operated. "What's the deal with her? You seem to be with her a lot lately."

My grip on the sink tightened. I didn't even like the way her name sounded in my father's mouth. Something about it felt wrong, acidic. I looked at him keenly. "You have no right to ask about Lucie. She's none of your business."

His tired eyes widened considerably. "So it's like that. You like this girl?"

"Dad," I warned, hissing through my teeth.

"I'm just saying. You should be careful with those ones."

My face twisted in disgust. Still leaning heavily against the sink, as my weakened legs couldn't exactly hold me up without its support, I spat back at him, "Those ones? Do you know what you sound like right now?"

He glanced away, clenching his jaw. "I don't know, Cian. Your mother and I only want what's best for you, and you know, it's not like she's from a particularly wealthy family. I mean, I saw the way she was dressed."

"Dad!"

"I'm just not sure about those interracial couples, Cian. What will people say?"

I stared at him for a second. I'd had just a sliver of hope that maybe he would realize how idiotic he sounded and fix it, but no, he didn't. He just stood there against the doorframe, blinking his cold eyes at me. At this moment, I even wanted the venom inside of me to speed up its course. Kill me now. Please. "You're way out of line. You always are, both you and Mom. I care about Lucie and nothing's going to change that. I don't give a crap about how much money she has or that she's black, and you shouldn't either. Forgive me, Dad, but you're being a jackass."

I watched his face turn slowly red, his jaw clenching further. I'd flipped his switch, and I was admittedly satisfied because of it.

My dad watched me back as my tongue physically rebelled against me, burning in my mouth. He laughed. "Does that hurt? Cursing at me?"

"Sure," I muttered, "but just because things hurt doesn't mean you can't do them. That would just make you a coward, wouldn't it, Dad?"

He ran his tongue over his lips. "Watch yourself, Cian."

I scoffed. "Oh, you don't know jack—"

I cut off with a twitch, a cough tearing from my lungs. It was not a small, insignificant cough, either, but one that grew and spasmed and changed into a sickening song, sending me sputtering and gasping over the sink.

I could hear Dad calling behind me, but ignored him as I began to hurl, vomit pouring from my mouth and into the sink's drain. Everything inside of me was hollowed out. I sat up, gawking at the mess I'd made.

The vomit was black, the color of ink.

I scrubbed a hand over my mouth, clutching at my chest. "Cian?" my dad said as I passed him, but I just shook my head, staggering back in the direction of my room.

"I'm fine," I said, "as if you could ever care about anyone but yourself."