Chapter 23: Starved - Hunger & Harmony

“Uh-huh. Yeah. I’ll try. Thanks, Lo.”

I end the call with a sigh. Never thought I’d hate a day off.

It’s only Tuesday, and the night of Arteria’s return to the stage feels too soon and a million years away at once.

My bedroom feels claustrophobic. I can only watch MeTube or care for my tattoo so many times. It’s just after five, and Lorelai already said there’s nothing I can do during rehearsals. A part of me wonders if Niko instructed her to keep me away. Ryel must be there. Is Niko protecting me? Himself? Our bond hasn’t felt heavy since his birthday.

Is it because we’re doing something right, or because of the butterfly inked over my heart?

Drumming my fingers on the desk, I slide my eyes over to my phone. Not the work one. I gnaw at my inner cheek, only one person coming to mind.

The silence doesn’t give me an answer.

“Fuck it.”

I grab my phone and promptly stand up. This message calls for pacing, and lots of it. The chats are dauntingly inactive in my message app. I push on the only contact I have pinned.

Her last words to me wither my confidence. She knows I’m no longer just an assistant. I’m more involved than I could’ve ever predicted. Not that she reached back out.

Am I being silly? She’s . . . like a sister to me, closer than anyone else my entire life. Until Niko, I was lonely in any room without her, no matter how many people were there.

A car honks in the distance, and I’m sharply reminded of my reality right now. Out there, everyone knows. The moment my life changed was on air for everyone to watch, comment on, and share. Including her.

I’m about to chicken out when I see it. Three dots pop up, the gray bubble revealing she’s here, too.

I nearly trip over myself to start texting. Her typing bubble disappears, so I send my message first.

Hey! I miss you. I’m also back in Sunveil.

Only a few moments later, her reply comes through.

Lala

Are you free?

* * *

Nerves roll through my stomach, twisting and punching as I pace at the front door. Viola said we should meet at my place, and I agreed. It’s too risky to go out right now, and I can’t leave this area without feeling the bond strain, anyway.

The doorbell sings. I wipe my clammy palms on my pants.

Honestly, I don’t know what to expect. A cold jab about how she told me so? Her signature judgement wrapped in lip gloss and mascara? Maybe I’m too paranoid and letting everything get to me.

Because the second I open the door, I’m crushed in a blackberry vanilla scented embrace.

“Cadie, oh my god.”

Relief surges through me, tears forming as I hug her back. She’s always been taller, but somehow she feels so small right now. Like she needs me even more than I need her.

“Lala.” I sniffle into her chest, careful not to stain her velour jacket.

She’s always so perfect. Perfectly dressed, with a trendy two-piece set that matches her lilac nails. Perfectly maintained, her makeup so effortless, and her dark hair loose down her back. Perfectly contained, too, like she’s always anticipating the worst. Her violet gaze darts around when we pull away, picking up on every detail, like an animal in a cage.

“It’s just me,” I assure her.

I’m overwhelmed by many thoughts and feelings. I could be mad at her, but I just can’t.

“Come on in.”

After I close the door behind us, and her pristine sneakers are lined up next to my haphazard pile, she turns to me again. Her mouth opens. It then closes. I smile wistfully, knowing there are a million things to say.

“I don’t have much, but do you want something to eat?” I ask. “Maybe some water?”

She shakes her head, like she always does.

“I’m kind of queasy.”

I gasp and hurry her into the small living room, offering a spot on the brown couch. She looks out of place here, too pretty to sit on such plain furniture. It’s always been that way between us. We’re an odd mix.

“It’s nice,” she says, glancing around after sweeping her long bangs out of her face. “Do they provide this place for you?”

“Huh?” The dots connect in my mind before I say, “Oh! Yes, they do.” I gesture around. “It’s connected to the company building.”

“Convenient,” she says, and I nod.

I take a seat next to her, trying not to let my smile fall. She looks exhausted. Cold sunlight filters in through the blinds, and she shies away from it, leaning closer to me.

“The trainee dorms suck.” She laughs shortly. “More cramped than university and even less privacy than home. Consider yourself lucky.”

She’s never one to dance around a topic. I shift where I sit, fidgeting with my hands. Why is this so awkward? Things have changed, yes, but . . .

“It’s nice, too, because I have a lanyard with, like, an ID on it? All I have to do is walk to the connecting doors, scan my card, and boom.”

“Seriously?” She rolls her eyes, and I see glimmers of her usual teasing. “Wow, maybe I should call up that girl who sent you over here. Maybe she could hook me up with a better gig.”

We share a giggle, and I so desperately cling to what little ease is still between us. I don’t want to address the obvious. I just want my sister back.

As our laughter tapers off, and her crinkled eyes lose their light, I know it’s too late.

“I didn’t want to believe it.”

Her words hang heavy in the air. I shift my position, facing her as she stares ahead. If possible, her posture is more rigid than before.

“I . . .”

What can I say?

“Survival requires choosing the lesser evil,” she whispers, her manicured fingers curling into tight fists on her thighs. “But that’s just it. The lesser evil is still . . .”

I chew my inner cheek, staring at her side profile. Is she even speaking to me anymore?

She sharply turns her head, lightning in her eyes as they find mine.

“Love doesn’t make monsters safer, Cadence.”

A memory slams into my chest. The morning we left Gravemont, the first time she used that word to describe vampires. What was once a divide is now a bond. It’s no longer humans versus vampires. It’s me interwoven with a vampire.

My heart beats within his chest. His memory lives as my own. Lust, fascination, and a budding romance have twisted into something I can’t name.

How can I defend something to her when I can’t explain it myself?

“I know.”

She pauses. The distant hum of Sunveil expands in our silence, cars heading home as the sun starts its bedtime routine.

“I know love doesn’t fix everything,” I continue. “I . . . don’t even know . . .what love is.”

My head hangs, and I fuss with a loose string on my knee.

“I haven’t watched any of what was broadcast that night.” I pull the indigo thread loose, unraveling part of the fabric. It’s a small hole, but if I don’t stop, I’ll ruin these pants. “There’s no guide for this. Maybe I can be the first Dissonant micro-influencer or something.”

I laugh dryly before I sniffle. These damn tears again.

Viola’s hand lies over mine, stopping me from tugging the thread any further. I can’t meet her gaze, and even if I did, the whole room blurs.

“Honestly, I don’t know much. I don’t know . . .who ever would,” she says. “People keep saying this will escalate. There aren’t protocols in place to contain a bond like this, and the whole world is running away with speculations.”

She squeezes my knee, earnest as she looks at me.

“The only one suffering is you.”

My throat constricts. When I blink, tears roll down my face. I see my longest friend—my true family—staring at me with such anxiety, and I know she’s wrong.

“It’s not just me,” I whisper.

“The vampire king⁠—”

“No.” I shake my head sadly. “You're hurting, too.”

Her lips part, only staring in return. I can’t hold it in anymore. A sob heaves from deep in my chest, and I crumple onto her shoulder.

Weariness releases from my diaphragm when she clings back. She’s always so restrained. I hate that I’ve put her in this place, only wanting the best for me, but having to say the hard things. Guilt makes a home on my mind’s shelf of ugly feelings, and I cry until there’s nothing left.

She’s crying, too. I almost laugh when I'm calm enough to look at her, so different from my snotty, blotchy self. Crystalline tears bubble down her cheeks, and she dabs a tissue on her nose.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and she shakes her head.

“Maybe I should say that.”

She folds the tissue into a clean one and crumples it in her hand. Her fist shakes; she’s holding it so tight.

“You don’t survive monsters by loving them, but . . .” Her electric irises stun me again as she whispers, “You shouldn’t become them, either.”

I nod slowly, though I don’t fully understand. Before I can ask, her fury dissolves, and she glances at the hallway behind me.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

“Ah, just up the hall. Door to the left,” I say, and she stands.

“I’ll be back.”

She grabs her purse off the floor.

“Take your time.”

I draw ‌a breath when she strides up the hall. Funny how she’s always been like that. She can never be vulnerable for too long.

The breath releases, and I glance at the window. It’s dark now, and ‌my chest tightens. Because she’ll probably go home soon? Or because Niko moves through the night more easily?

Love doesn’t make monsters safer.

I don’t think he’s a monster. Vampires aren’t inherently good or bad. I’ve seen both now, and I feel no different.

Water runs in the background, and she feels so far and close at once. She’s right. The whole world has turned its back on me, and for a bond I didn’t choose, a life I didn’t ask for, and a man who didn’t want this for us.

Is it fair to blame only him? My hand instinctively presses to my chest, and the tattoo that still heals above my heart.

Could I call what’s between us . . .

Love?

A sharp pang hits me, and I double over. My hand moves from my heart to my throat, Niko’s hunger bleeding in the back of my teeth. I emit a low hiss; the bond flares painfully, and for what reason, I can’t tell.

“Shit . . .” I mutter, my bones turning to jelly as I collapse onto the floor.

I don’t know how long it holds me. A second, an hour, a lifetime. Even when it eases, it’s only slightly, the thirst leaving me with more than a parched tongue.

Empty. The bond flares within nothing. I claw at the rug, trying to feel something, reaching for anything that brings me back to reality.

“Cadence!”

A flash of purple rushes towards me, and I suck in a painful breath when Viola gathers me up.

“Sorry, I . . .”

I wince, the pain flashing again.

“But your heart still . . .” Her sentence dies before she quickly says, “Don’t speak. Just breathe.”

Trying to do that, sweat gathers on my brow. Why is this so painful? The bond lashes stronger now, each wave of starvation cutting like a blade.

In the distance, a door slams against a wall. The hunger rages, like flames arcing out from my center.

That’s when I hear footsteps. Scattered, like someone stumbling towards us. Viola’s hold tightens on me, and I try to breathe enough to look.

“Cadence.”

I don’t have to look to know that voice. I wouldn’t have to hear him rasp my name out, either.

I know his presence like my own shadow. It’s Niko who stands before us now, with fangs lengthened and eyes like crimson.