dim beams of light illuminate the planes of a gaunt face that’s simultaneously foreign and yet familiar. I lean back in shock, trying to process what I’m seeing.
“Is it you?” the familiar stranger asks me, and I’m too stunned to form coherent words. “How?” he asks again, and this time his Sahara-kissed voice cracks with emotion.
I run my eyes all over his face, looking for some kind of proof. “Dad?” I ask quietly, the question spilling out of me like water, surprise and hope saturating every drop.
He shudders, and his face fills with pain. I watch him physically fight off the blow that apparently my question is to him, and understanding and horror slam into me like a tidal wave. I drop the canteen on the ground and slam a hand over my mouth, forcing the horrified gasp back down my throat.
“Holy fucking shit, Lachlan,” I whimper, “what the hell did they do to you?”
I run my stunned gaze all over him, trying to comprehend how this could happen to a person in just over a month. He looks like he’s been starving for years. His cheeks are hollow, and his eyes are sunken and swimming with pain. His golden, light-tan skin is sallow, and he’s so emaciated and fragile looking, I’m terrified he’s going to break if he even tries to move. Lachlan sags against the wall of the cell, proving that just when I think he can’t look worse, he does.
I snatch the canteen from the ground, ignoring my protesting injuries, and hastily screw the top off. I offer him the canteen and then press it closer to his mouth when he makes no effort to take it.
“You said they don’t ever give you anything like this, and you clearly need to get hydrated way worse than I do,” I encourage.
Lachlan’s emerald-green gaze settles on mine, and he watches me for a minute before leaning in. I press the mouth of the canteen to his chapped lips and tilt it up slowly. Lachlan swallows a gulp down and then coughs and chokes on his second attempted mouthful. I lean forward and cradle his head as his lungs fight against the liquid he just aspirated. And I’m worried his brittle ribs are going to snap with each violent cough that wracks his body.
“What the hell is that?” he croaks, and then he stares at the canteen like it just betrayed him somehow.
I bring the canteen up to my nose and sniff, prepared to inhale something disgusting, judging by the grossed out look on Lachlan’s face. There’s definitely a hint of something deep and masculine, which rules out water, but I have no idea how to place the distinct scent that sends tendrils of recognition through me. I take a sip of the canteen’s contents, and a rich, somewhat sweet flavor explodes on my tongue, immediately cluing me in to what this is.
“It’s blood,” I tell Lachlan, offering him more, and his face goes from disgusted to horrified.
“Why the hell would you offer that to me? Better yet, how the hell do you know what blood tastes like?” his question whips out like the accusation it is, and I flinch back.
Well, it looks like they didn’t starve the judgmental asshole out of him. Yay for me.
“I was given some blood after they brought me here. It helped me heal, and from the looks of things, you could go for a shit ton of that right now,” I observe, not admitting that I didn’t willingly take the blood I was first offered either.
The corner of Lachlan’s mouth turns up in an unmistakable sneer, and I huff out a tired sigh. “Whether you like it or not, you need all the help you can get. I don’t know what they did to you, but you look like death.”
Lachlan turns away from me, and his eyes fix on a spot on the wall. It’s clear he’s back to shutting me out, and I fight back the flash of anger it evokes in me. I debate for a second about pinning Lachlan’s head down and forcing him to drink like Siah did to me. He’s definitely weak enough. I could probably get away with it, but a piece of me feels like there’s no point fighting for someone who won’t fight for themselves. I shake my head at him.
“This could very well save your life. Are you seriously telling me that you choose your fucked up stubborn pride over living?” I ask, exasperated. He