“You never really had a choice before, not about this, but now you do, and it is your choice. If you want to destroy all the evidence of who you are and live out a normal, human life, I’ll help you do that. But…” He licked his lips. “If you want to become a vampire, if you want me to change you, I’ll do it.”
My breath hitched. Despite knowing the truth, he was still giving me the choice. And now I felt even worse for ever allowing myself to think he’d force me into becoming a vampire.
He once again took my hands in his and kissed my knuckles, his thumb caressing the spot his lips had just been. “I need you to be absolutely sure, though, and you’re not there yet, Chloe. I can see the indecision all over your face. So, until you’re sure, until I know you’re sure, we keep this secret between us.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN:
Deathbed
“OH, GOD.” I GROANED WITH AGONY and rolled onto my side. Knees tucked to my chest, I lay in the fetal position on the bed, excruciating pain shooting through my body. Tears pricked my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Trent’s hand was on my back.
All I could do was moan in response.
“Chloe?”
The mattress moved slightly as he shifted onto his knees, and I cried out. That small movement felt like someone had jabbed a million knives into my abdomen and then filled the stab wounds with acid.
“Chloe, honey. What’s wrong?” He reached for me.
“Don’t,” I gasped. “Don’t touch me.” I gritted the words through tightly clenched teeth.
Everything hurt, and I wanted to be left alone. Not to mention, I didn’t want him to see me like this, writhing in pain and incoherent.
“What’s wrong?” he asked for the third time.
“My stomach.”
Trent brushed sweaty hair from my forehead. “You’re burning up.”
He was off the bed in a flash, and I was grateful for the space. I blew out a slow breath, and it was like spitting razor blades. Why did I hurt so much?
Trent returned with a cool cloth and gently draped it across my forehead. “Do you want some water? Aspirin? Food?”
The mere mention of that stuff had nausea rising inside of me. I shook my head, which caused my body to shake the tiniest bit. Another debilitating wave of pain shocked me into stillness.
“I wanna sleep,” I mumbled as I closed my eyes.
If I lay perfectly still, I was okay. I prayed Trent would see what I needed and leave me alone for a little while. A nap would help—it always did when I was sick.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need me. Just say my name, okay? I’ll listen for you,” he said.
“Mm-hmm.” I was on the verge of blissful sleep before he’d even made it out of the room.
But my comfort was short lived. Violent shivers shook my body, and I whimpered as I pulled the blankets up to my neck. But no matter how deeply I burrowed beneath the covers, I couldn’t get warm.
I swiped the cloth from my head. White spots danced behind my closed lids, and my temples throbbed with each beat of my heart. My pulse pounded in my ears. Bile rose in my throat, gagging me. I was going to throw up.
Flinging the blankets off, I cupped my hand over my mouth and rolled out of bed. Intense cramps made it impossible to stand up straight, so I bent over and took a couple of steps. The room spun. I reached for the wall to steady myself, but my hand slipped. My knees buckled, and I started to fall.
My head never hit the floor, though. Trent caught me seconds before I ended up bashing in my skull.
“Chloe.” His voice was frantic, his fear palpable.
And then, everything went dark.
“AW.” MOM WALKED INTO my room, frowning. “I hate when my baby girl gets sick.” She held a tray with a bowl of steaming chicken noodle soup and a can of ginger ale.
“Mom,” I whined. “I’m not your baby girl. I’m almost fifteen.”
She set the tray on my desk and laughed. “You will always be my baby girl, Chloe. Don’t ever forget that.”
Something cold pressed firmly against my stomach, jerking me from my dream. I tensed, and my body convulsed. A groan tore from my raw, scratchy throat. Whatever had been against my stomach was suddenly torn away.
“You’re hurting her.” That was Trent’s voice. Who was he talking to?
“I’m examining her. You do want to know what’s wrong, don’t you?” That was a woman’s voice I didn’t recognize.
What was happening? Last thing I remembered was getting out of bed. Where was I? What was going on? Was I dying?
I once again attempted to open my eyes, but it was useless. Tears spilled down the sides of my face, and I was powerless to stop them, or wipe them away. Why wasn’t my body working?
“Easy, Trent. She’s only here to help.” That was Whitney.
“Fine,” Trent bit out, his tone both angry and terrified. “Make her better.”
The cool metal returned to my stomach, and I whimpered in pain. My insides felt like they were on fire. I wanted everything to stop—the pain, the tears, the uncertainty. Rubbery fingers prodded the right side of my abdomen, and I screamed seconds before blacking out. Again.
“HOW’S MY FAVORITE PATIENT doing today?” Doctor Connors entered the room, smiling. His crisp white coat was unbuttoned to reveal too-tight black slacks, black tie, and a bright red collared shirt, also unbuttoned. A patch of dark hair peeked out.
I scrunched up my face, but my mother only grinned. Ugh. She refused to admit it, but I knew she liked the very handsome—and very single—Doctor Connors. As far as men went, she could do worse. Still, the thought of my mother dating was weird.
“Feeling like a new woman, thanks to you.” Mom shifted in the bed, sitting up straighter.
I rolled my eyes.
“Good. Any more headaches?” Doctor Connors asked as he
