Page 25 of Midnight Kiss

“What the—?” Bile rose in the back of my throat, and I backed up a few steps and sat down, pressing my hand over my mouth. Sweat streaked down my cheeks. What on earth was going on with me?

I prided myself on being the “anti-sick” when it came to the flu and stuff like that. I was reliable in that I never got the flu and I always got to work on time. But this felt … It felt as if there was fire in my veins, as if I was burning up from the inside out.

I set the book down on the counter again and grabbed my cell phone out of my tote. I wasn’t about to go into work and make other people sick. A quick call later, and I was off the hook for the day. Not that I wanted to be. I loved work.

The nausea faded slowly, but I grabbed a glass of water and went to lie on the sofa. My eyes drifted open and shut, traveling toward the counter and the book that waited there.

If you feel that you cannot trust your thoughts, that your desire to be near it is consuming you, then you are under its spell.

Beware your thoughts and the beating of your heart.

The predator seeks only to ensnare you.

The words were a whisper in my mind, and I jolted upright. No wonder I’d had those weird nightmares last night—I was sick.

I fetched the book from the counter, along with my notepad and pen, and sat down to page through it. If I was going to be home sick, at least I could catch up on my translation.

But the words on the pages blurred and swam together, and my head dropped to my chest.

To bond a vampire is to commit oneself to that void. To understand that your life is now forfeit, and this is exactly why those who have the unique ability to do exactly that should avoid it at all costs.

To strengthen such a creature is tyranny to humankind.

Perhaps, an eradication of the ability to bond with vampires is a necessity. But to do that would make one no better than the beast.

A knock pounded against my door, and I snapped awake, swallowing heavily.

My gaze fell to the blood-stained page in front of me. The words in French, not translated into my notepad, had been drifting through my mind. But that was impossible.

The knock came a second time.

“Coming,” I said, clearing my throat. “Just a second.”

I rose from the sofa, shaking, and went over to the door. Still trembling, I drew back the chain and opened it.

Alexander filled the hall with his presence and a masculine scent that was spicy yet light. He wore a black peacoat, the collars raised, and his dark hair was tousled. “Emily,” he said.

“Alex,” I managed. “You’re back.”

“Emily, what’s the matter?”

“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t even have opened the door.” I swiped the back of my hand over my forehead. “I’m not feeling great.”

Alexander’s golden-eyed gaze darted past me and into the apartment. “No? What are your symptoms.”

“I just have a fever. I was feeling nauseous earlier, but I’m okay now, I think.”

“You think.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need to see a doctor?”

I took a step out into the hallway. “A doctor?” I stumbled, and Alex’s strong arms caught me. He lifted me to my feet, making soft noises of supplication.

I blinked then looked up at him. His eyes were hyper-focused on me, the pupils dilated, and his lips parted a little. “Emily.” My name growled in his chest. “I think you need some fresh air. And something to eat. When was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t … I think last night?” Strangely, a little of the heat had lifted. But I still clung to him, even though I didn’t need to. I wanted to. The feeling of his arms around me was intoxicating.