Page 56 of Bloodlust

"Weird?" I drop my keys on the console table. "Weird how?"

"Like cologne." She scrunches her nose, staring me down suspiciously. "Were you with a man?"

"I'm taking a shower." I roll my eyes, brushing past her. "Go to sleep, Zoe, it's late."

"Not before you tell me who you were with!" She follows me into the bathroom. "Come on, Cami! This is the second time you've gone AWOL at night. Someone's gotta know who you're with, and I'm guessing Frankie's in the dark..."

I groan, crossing my arms. "I was with Hayden, okay?"

Zoey frowns. "Hayden?"

I sigh. "Doctor Malcolm?"

"What?" Zoey blinks, taken aback. "The therapist from a few weeks ago? Really?" She pauses, studying me. "Why?"

"'Cause he's hot," I say pointedly, pushing her out of my bathroom. "Go finish your movie."

I shut the door and stare at myself in the mirror for several minutes.

Why?

"Because, Cami..." It's his voice. Daniel's voice. "Because it's always darkest before the dawn."

My cells.

They're regenerating.

Chapter 15

Lines

It's so silent that I can hear his saliva traveling down his throat. I can hear his nails scratching against the scruff of his five o'clock shadow. I can hear the rain pattering against the glass windows outside. And the clock. That damn clock. The hypnotic ticking on the wall reminds me that it's been fifteen minutes since I've stepped foot into his office.

Fifteen minutes of a total standstill.

Our weapons are drawn, ready to fire, but neither of us are willing to make the first move. Shouldn't it be him? Shouldn't he ask me why I'm here? Why I made an appointment? In broad light, nonetheless? Isn't he curious?

My gaze flits across his stoic face. So statuesque in its hardened exterior. A mesmerizing dichotomy of reality and fantasy. Of truth and lies.

He's stillness and chaos personified.

Perplexing to dissect. Profound to devour. Painful to digest.

I could stare at him for hours, a creature carved of the finest jade. I could study him for years—hypothesize his meaning, his purpose.

His everything.

What message is the sculpture attempting to convey with the dilated pupils? What purpose does the slight curve of his upper lip serve? What emotions does this work of art make a person feel?

Is it all an illusion brought on by a lack of sleep? Or perhaps heightened curiosity?

Both?

My answers don't matter. They're subjective. My mind is not a reliable interpreter of his intentions. Hell, it's not even a reliable interpreter of my own. Maybe the bigger question isn't, 'What does this statue mean?' but 'Why have I decided to come to view it?'

I whip my head toward the far wall as the clock strikes two.

I can't do it anymore.