17. Chapter 17

17

Chapter 17

Mia

M ost mornings, I eat because I need to stay strong to survive this place. But today's breakfast is actually pretty good. So was yesterday's. Eggs, bacon, sausages, toast…the works. All of my meals have been good since the changes began. Dinner last night was a steak as big as my plate. There'd been a time when I never would have finished it, but yesterday, I devoured it and mopped the blood from the plate with a hunk of fresh bread.

I pop a rasher of bacon into my mouth and stretch my arms overhead, feeling almost normal for the first time in weeks.

Normal.

Hah!

I snort. As normal as I could possibly feel under these circumstances.

Nothing about this whole fucked-up mess is normal. Especially not the way I found myself reacting to that vampire.

His touch was so gentle, almost tender. The way his eyes locked with mine…

Cut it out, Mia!

I shake my head, trying to clear those dangerous thoughts.

"He's the enemy," I mutter to myself. "The one keeping you prisoner."

But I can't shake the disappointment I felt when he left. Why? He's a vampire, for heaven's sake. I should be relieved every time he walks away, not…whatever this is.

I force myself to focus on the positives of yesterday. The food has definitely improved – hearty, iron-rich foods. Smart, I grudgingly admit. They're trying to keep me healthy so they can keep sucking me dry.

Then there was the garden. Oh, the garden. I close my eyes, remembering the warmth of sunlight on my skin, the scent of flowers and earth. It was intoxicating after so long in this godforsaken cell.

While outside, I'd discreetly tested my magic again. I still hadn't been able to connect with it, but there was definitely something there. A glimmer of hope in this nightmare. The other witches gave me hope, too. I'd searched for the tall witch I'd seen my first time out but hadn't caught sight of her again.

Then another captive, a woman with fair hair and wide hazel eyes, caught my gaze. It was only for a second, but in that fleeting connection, I felt it. Determination. Resilience. A silent promise that we wouldn't give up.

I open my eyes, a small smile tugging at my lips despite everything.

There's hope, Mia. Never let go of it.

That thought warms me more than the memory of sunlight. Whatever these bloodsuckers have planned, they haven't broken our spirit. Not by a long shot. There are other witches here, fighting just like me. And somehow, some way, we'll find a way to communicate, to resist, to escape.

I may be trapped in this cell, but knowing I'm not the only one willing to fight gives me strength. Even if we can't speak, we'll find a way out of this hell.

I finish the last bite of my breakfast, savoring the rich flavor. It's almost embarrassing how much I'm enjoying these meals now. As I set the empty plate aside, a restless energy starts to build inside me. What's next on today's agenda? Will they take me to the garden again? Or is it time for another…session?

My stomach clenches at the thought, and inexplicably, I can't figure out if it's apprehension or…anticipation.

Soren.

His face flashes in my mind – those piercing eyes, the gentle touch of his hands.

"What the hell, Mia?" I mutter, shaking my head furiously.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to shake off these unwanted thoughts. He's the enemy, for crying out loud! It doesn't matter how gentle he was or how his touch made me feel. He's still one of them.

"He's probably killed dozens of witches," I remind myself harshly. "Maybe hundreds. You're just a source of blood to him. Nothing more."

But even as I say the words, a traitorous part of my mind whispers that there might be more to him than that. The way he looked at me, the care he took…

"No!" I slam my hand against the wall, welcoming the sharp sting. "Stop it."

He's a monster. They all are. I can't let a few nice gestures fool me into thinking otherwise.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. I need to stay sharp, to keep looking for ways to escape. Not daydream about some vampire who's probably centuries old and has seen countless prisoners come and go.

Prisoners like me.

The sound of approaching footsteps sends a jolt through me. My heart races, and I'm hit with a confusing mix of emotions. Part of me hopes it's him, and I immediately chastise myself for the thought. It's just because he was careful last time, I rationalize. The others hurt me. That's all it is.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself as the footsteps grow louder. The door opens, and there he is. Soren. His expression is unreadable as he steps into my cell, those otherworldly blue eyes fixed on me.

I hate the way my pulse quickens at the sight of him.

Fool , I silently scold my rebellious body.

"Are you ready?" Soren asks.

"Oh, absolutely. I just love being a bloodsucker's sippy cup. Lead on and make my day," the words bubble out, dripping with sarcasm.

I watch him closely, searching for any reaction to my biting words. Part of me wants to see him flinch, to show some sign that my barbs hit home. They don't. There's nothing.

I force myself to walk tall as we leave my cell, refusing to show any weakness. But with every step, I'm acutely aware of Soren beside me.

I can't help but notice the fluid grace of his movements. He doesn't just walk; he glides, each step silent and precise. It's mesmerizing and infuriating all at once. I catch a whiff of his scent – that subtle, woodsy fragrance that makes my stupid heart skip a beat.

My mind flashes back to our last encounter in the medical room. The softness of his touch as he prepared my arm. The intensity in his eyes when they locked with mine. The strange tension that filled the air between us.

The memory clings to me, heightening my nervous anticipation with each step we take. My palms are sweating, and I clench my fists to hide it.

"You seem tense," Soren says.

I scoff, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead. "Gee, I wonder why. It's not like I'm being led to have my blood forcibly taken or anything."

He doesn't respond. I steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye, catching the slight tightening of his jaw. Is he affected by this, too? Or am I just imagining things, desperate for any sign that he sees me as more than just a blood source?

We round a corner, and the medical room comes into view. My steps falter for just a moment.

"It's going to be okay." His hand brushes my arm, and I find myself shivering. I glance away as he opens the door and pushes it open, then guides me in.

I watch as Soren moves around the medical room, gathering supplies and preparing the equipment. It's mesmerizing, makes me uncomfortable, but not for reasons that make sense to me.

He pulls on a pair of latex gloves with a soft snap, and I flinch slightly at the sound. Soren pauses, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. Is that concern I see there?

"Are you alright?" he asks.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to nod. "Just peachy. Love being a pincushion."

He doesn't rise to my sarcasm, instead turning back to his preparations. I watch as he carefully swabs the crook of my arm with an alcohol wipe, his touch impossibly light. His hands strong and sure. The coolness of the alcohol makes me shiver, or maybe it's his proximity. I can't be sure anymore.

Why is he being so gentle?

It's a game, Mia. It's all just a game.

The thought nags at me as Soren readies the needle. I've been through this before with other vampires who treated me like an object. But Soren… He's different. The care he's taking, the almost tender way he handles me – it's throwing me off balance.

"This may sting a little," he warns, positioning the needle.

I brace myself for the sharp pain, but when it comes, it's barely more than a pinch. I blink in surprise, looking down at where the needle has smoothly entered my vein.

"Better than the last time I did it?" he asks.

I nod mutely, unable to find words. This feeling…it's dangerous. It makes me want to let my guard down, to trust him. And I can't afford to do that. Not here. Not with him.

"I've been practicing." He smiles, looking down as he attaches a tube to the needle.

"You have?" I can't keep the surprise out of my voice. "How?" I pull a face. "Wait, let me guess. All the other witches."

"No. I used an orange." He's attached the tube to a bag, and it's beginning to fill with dark red liquid. I try not to look at it.

"An orange? " My surprise ratchets up a notch. "Why would you practice on an orange?"

"That's what it said on Google." There isn't even a hint of humor in his voice.

"You Googled it?" I hate how my voice has risen several octaves since the start of this conversation.

"You don't think vampires can use Google?" He looks up from where he's been focused on taping the needle to my arm and meets my eyes. It sucks the air from my lungs.

"No, um…yes, um…I…" I shrug. "I have no idea what vampires can do," I mutter, looking away.

"Aside from drinking blood?"

"Yeah, that. And abduct witches."

"Touché," he says. He smiles slightly. "There's more to us than that, Mia."

"I'll believe it when I see it," I mumble.

His jaw tightens. "I don't blame you for feeling that way."

"Whatever." I've never been the sullen type, but right now, I think I've earned the right.

"Did you finish your book?" he asks, ignoring my jibe.

"I'd rather not make small talk," I mutter. I don't like the way things are getting so comfortable between us.

"Suit yourself."

We sit in silence, the minutes ticking by. Minutes in which I can feel his nearness, inhale his scent. I shut my eyes so I don't have to look at him, too.

"Right," he says briskly, and my eyes snap open. "We're all done."

"Okay." I frown a little. "That was…easy."

"That's how it should be." He's removing the needle and aiming a little wad of cotton wool at the tiny puncture wound. Before he does, a drop of blood trickles out. He inhales sharply, his lips pursing. I swear I can see a hint of fang protruding. And for some reason…it fascinates me.

What the hell, Mia?

"Let's get you back to your room." His voice is hoarse. I see that the cotton wool is firmly in place. He stands, taking the bag and putting it in a refrigerator on the other side of the room.

"Right. Good." I feel so awkward. I keep reaching for the rage that's been fueling me through this, but for some reason, I can't find any right now. Not with him.

"Can you stand? Do you need help?" He reaches for my arm, but I pull it away.

"No! I'm fine," I say too sharply, pushing myself to my feet. I feel a wave of dizziness but mask it by tossing my hair over my shoulder before setting my hand on the back of the chair. He watches me curiously but doesn't try to help again.

I follow Soren back to my room, the route now familiar. I'm struck by how…normal this feels. Almost like we're just two people walking together, not captor and prisoner.

"How are you feeling?" Soren asks, his voice softer than usual.

I shrug, not trusting myself to speak. The truth is, I feel fine. Better than fine, actually. The dizziness from earlier has passed, and I don't feel weak or drained like I did after previous blood draws.

We reach my door, and Soren opens it for me. As I step inside, he hesitates in the doorway.

"If you need anything, just let the guards know," he says. Is that concern in his eyes? "They'll make sure you get it."

I nod. "Thanks," I mutter, looking away.

Soren lingers for a moment longer, then gives me a small smile before closing the door.

I sit on my bed, my mind whirling. What just happened? That wasn't the cold, detached vampire who I first met here. This Soren was almost…friendly.

A knot forms in my stomach as I realize things are changing. The improved food, the garden visits, Soren's gentleness – it's all shifting the ground beneath my feet. And I'm not sure how to feel about it.

Part of me wants to cling to my anger, to remember that I'm a prisoner here. But another part…another part is drawn to Soren's kindness, craving more of those gentle touches and soft words.

I flop back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. This is dangerous territory. I can't allow myself to start feeling anything other than hatred for my captors.

But as I close my eyes, all I can see is Soren's face, his blue eyes filled with concern. And I can't shake the feeling that things are about to get very, very complicated.