Cameron whispers, his voice hued with panic. “Come on, fight it.” My skin sears, liquid fire pulsating through my veins. I need something; I need deaths. Souls. I need blood on my hands. I need the fire on my back to subside. I need to stop melting. “Goddammit, princess.” Cameron sounds worried, but I can’t see him. I can’t see anything; I can only feel the aching need to feel death on my lips again. “I need it,” I whisper. “Death… I need it.” Cameron mutters under his breath and then he’s surrounding me, touching me, feeling me with his hands. I bask in it, wanting to press my lips against his and steal the breath from him, but I can’t find him. Yet he ends up finding me and giving me exactly what I want. Our lips touch. He feeds my hunger. Fills my veins. Bringing me closer to death. And farther away from life. From good. From Asher. *** My eyelids flutter open, my eyeballs rolling back into my head that throbs in protest along with my whole body.
