Crimson Born - Amy Patrick Page 0,40

animal? Why did I have to come here every day for weeks, worried sick about you, afraid you’d never be able to speak again, afraid you’d never even remember my name?”

“I don’t know. Why did you?” he roared. Then in a low voice he muttered, “God knows what you could want from me.”

For a moment, I stared at him in stunned silence, battling the threat of tears. Then I whirled to go. I was expected at Imogen’s chambers soon anyway.

Reece reached through the bars of his enclosure and grabbed my sleeve. “Wait. Abbi... I’m sorry. Don’t go yet.”

The orderly who always sat in the observation room with me lunged toward us, but I stopped him with a confident, “It’s all right. We’re fine here.”

The man sat back down with his book, and I turned back to Reece. Gently, I pried his fingers from my shirt.

“I have to,” I said. “Imogen summoned me. I can’t be late.”

“What does she want?”

It was obvious Reece didn’t like Imogen, and really, I couldn’t blame him. His only experience with her was when she’d bitten him, and she was the one who’d ordered the medical staff to keep holding him here in isolation, away from the larger population of the Bastion.

“I don’t know. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you tomorrow,” I said. “That is if you want me to come back tomorrow.”

His hot-then-cold-then-hot-again behavior had me in a tailspin.

“Come back tonight.” Reece leaned his forehead against the bars, locking his violet gaze with mine and gripping the cold steel. “Please?”

The aching vulnerability in his voice reached inside my chest and squeezed my heart.

Whatever was going on with him, he was an emotional mess—that much was clear. I covered both his hands with mine.

“Why? Will you... miss me?” I whispered, shocked at my own audacity.

For a long moment neither of us moved. Neither of us breathed.

“I started missing you the minute your wanna-be boyfriend’s buggy pulled out of the parking lot that night,” Reece confessed. “I miss you so much when you’re not here it drives me crazy. I’ve never met anyone like you, Abbi. There’s nothing sweeter in this whole godforsaken world—in here or out there.”

Releasing one of the bars, he reached through them and stroked my cheek, staring hard into my eyes.

“I only want what’s best for you. You know that, right?”

Heart thundering, I turned my face and pressed my lips into his palm, kissing it. Reece gasped.

“You are what’s best for me.” I reached up to cradle his cheek in return. “A very smart person once told me everything happens for a reason. I’m starting to believe that.”

With no small effort, I forced myself to step back from him. Imogen was waiting, and she didn’t tolerate lateness.

“I’ll come back tonight,” I promised.

The edges of his mouth turned up in a slight smile that broke my heart with its sadness.

“I hope you do. If you don’t... I’ll understand.”

19

True Daughter

Still troubled by Reece’s strange parting words and tortured gaze, I knocked at the entrance to Imogen’s private chambers.

It was my first time being there, and I wondered what the occasion was. She’d mostly ignored me after I’d told her I had no intention of being her successor.

The heavy door swung open, and one of her personal Bloodbound guards stepped back to allow me to enter.

“There’s my little Florence Nightingale,” she sang out, walking toward me in a simple white button-down blouse and cardigan paired with black pedal pushers and ballet flats.

Once again, the resemblance to Audrey Hepburn floored me. Appearance was the extent of the resemblance though. Ms. Hepburn had reportedly been known for her grace and kindness and devotion to charity work.

Imogen wasn’t the charitable sort, and her reputation around here didn’t exactly involve kindness. I wondered what had happened in her life to make her such a hard case.

“Wait—do you have any idea who Florence Nightingale was?” she asked.

“Yes. She was a nurse who lived in the 1800s and is considered the founder of modern nursing.”

“Exactly. Your education is progressing nicely. Please come in.”

She stepped back and gestured for me to enter. Of all the rooms I’d seen in the Bastion, Imogen’s chamber was by far the most luxurious.

It was filled with antique furniture and art from various eras. Ancient but extremely expensive looking rugs covered the floor, muffling the noise of our shoes as we went farther into the room.

The ceiling and walls were decorated with the same natural calcite formations I’d seen in other parts of the