Forget About Midnight (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #9)

A bag of my things sat open on the floor, clothing bursting out of it. The room itself smelled faintly of my vanilla perfume. It was small with pale-grey walls. Windowless. Safe. But not home.

I dug through the bag for some clean clothes. My mind raced, slamming me with thought after anxious thought. The barrage of noise in my head grew fast and loud. Stifling a frustrated shriek, I clapped my hands over my ears and pleaded with my mind for mercy.

The mental shifts were bad, worse than any I’d ever witnessed from a vampire in my life. After the bloodlust had its way with me, when I came back to myself, it wasn’t without a price. I suffered horrible thoughts, feelings I didn’t understand, and dreams that tormented until I awoke screaming.

After several minutes of rocking back and forth on the floor with my head in my hands, the voices of confusion and mayhem faded, and I was able to move again. I was still waiting for the guilt to surface, to break me down. It was in there too, somewhere.

Kale was in the living room when I came back upstairs. He regarded me with understanding, as if he knew the battle I’d just had. Lounging on the cream-colored couch, he gave off a casual air. He’d changed into sweat pants and a t-shirt. I still wasn’t used to seeing him so relaxed and dressed down.

I mustered a fake smile before disappearing into the bathroom where the sound of the shower drowned out my sobs. The hot water ran over me, diluting the blood tears as they fell.

There were no words for what I was feeling. Depressed. Melancholy. Madness. No words came close, except for perhaps lost. I was lost.

One perk of vampirism was the lack of puffy eyes after a cryfest in the shower. Once the tears had washed away, there was no evidence that they’d been there at all.

I towel dried my long, blond hair, staring at my reflection. There was a warmth to my skin, a pink hue bought with the blood of my victims. It would be alabaster fair again soon enough.

My eyes were brown. A relief. More often than not these days, they were Arys’s deep blue. Much like the echo of his voice in my memories, it was just another way that he haunted me. Staring at my nakedness in the mirror, I felt detached, like it wasn’t me that I was seeing.

Grabbing a handful of hair, I scrutinized the ash-blonde locks. It would be just too easy to grab the scissors from beneath the sink and hack it all off. It was tempting. Before I could give in to the neurotic urge to change the appearance of the person staring back at me, I turned away from the mirror and got dressed.

In black leggings and a Sons of Anarchy top, I exited the bathroom with my head up. Burying my emotions, I put on a stony mask and thought, Fake it til you make it.

I scanned the living room for a place to sit. In less than a second, I decided that sitting on the other couch would be too obvious but sitting right beside Kale would be too uncomfortable. So I sat on the opposite end of the couch he sat on, leaving a space between us. Now that the rush of the hunt had worn off, the walls had been resurrected between us once again.

“Alexa, you don’t have to hide the hell you’re going through. I wish you’d stop trying to. I’ve been there. I know. You’re not alone in this.” Kale held the remote in one hand. The TV was on, but his full attention was on me.

It was somewhat refreshing to have him be so forward. Those first few nights he’d treated me like a piece of cracked glass about to shatter. Of course, that might not be so far from accurate.

“I appreciate your concern, but we both know that I am very much alone in this.” I met his gaze, finding those brown and blue eyes as enchanting as ever. “You’re still alone in it even now, aren’t you? After all this time.”

Our connection was bittersweet. We shared so much. It was only fitting that we shared this solitary suffering too.

“It’s not always like this,” Kale lied. “You know that. Plenty of vampires are just fine after they adjust. Like Arys.”

I jumped when he said that name. It was like a physical slap that left my ears ringing. “Arys is not well adjusted. He’s a killer. He just enjoys it. It makes him look well adjusted, but it’s an illusion.”

“You enjoy it too. We all do. It’s what we are. Killers. But you’re the one in control of the circumstances. It doesn’t have to consume you. Arys knows this. He’s in control all the time, even when he’s not.” He cocked his head to one side, studying me. “Don’t you think he should be helping you right now?”

I froze, unblinking. How could he suggest such a thing? Of all things for Kale to say, that name should not be one of them.

“Are you kidding me? How can Arys help me when I can’t even stand to look at him? Are you trying to get rid of me, Kale? If I’ve overstayed my welcome—”