He still wore the black lab coat. Kyra deposited me on the bed with a thud that jarred every aching muscle in my body. I groaned and wondered whether I was about to barf the Gatorade up all over myself.“What happened?” Smith asked. “She should be feeling better.”“Pretty decided to hit Rio,” Kyra said cheerfully. “Rio hit back.”That was an understatement. The nausea lessened as I lay without moving but my cheek was still on fire, burning with an intensity that made me wonder if maybe Rio had fractured something.“She better not be really hurt. We want to start tomorrow,” Smith growled.Start? Start what? I didn’t have time to wonder. Smith moved over to me and touched my face, probing at my cheek. I winced at each touch, starting to feel dizzy again as the pain flared.“Nothing broken,” he said eventually and stepped back. “You need to eat.”My stomach roiled at the thought of food. “I feel sick.”“I took a lot of blood. You need to replace it.”When you’re being held captive by a vampire, that phrase has more than one potential meaning.
