First Bitten: Chapter 28
First Bitten (The Alexandra Jones Series #1)
The hotel room is shrouded in darkness. Thereâs a faint glow from the street lamp outside that is shimmering its way across the space, lighting Nathanâs perfect form. Heâs laid on his stomach, sleeping, shallow breaths emitting from him. He looks so peaceful, so incredibly beautiful.
Iâll never love anyone like I love him, and Iâll always be his whether Iâm with him or not.
I reach down and pick up my bag.
I was always leaving. Having sex with Nathan was the only real and good thing that has happened to me in a long time and now I have that memory forever. But it doesnât change anything. I was only allowing myself to delay the inevitable.
Youâre probably wondering why Iâm leaving. You think Iâm crazy. Iâm not. This is actually the sanest thing Iâve done since I was turned into this monster.
And, trust me, if I could, I would climb back into that bed and curl up against his warm, hard body and stay there forever.
But I have to do this, for him. Because I love him. Nathan will never be safe, or truly happy, while heâs with me. He canât see it now, but he will, soon.
I canât allow him to continue risking his life for me. If anything ever happened to him, well, I can just about cope with the thought of living without him so long as I know heâs alive and safe. I couldnât live without him permanently.
I didnât want to leave like this, slipping away into the night without a word but, as Iâve discovered, Nathanâs not willing to let me go without a fight. Heâs left me no other choice.
I pick his jeans up off the floor, snake his wallet out of the pocket, remove a wad of notes and slip it in my own pocket. I donât like to do it â I feel like a thief â but if Iâm going to get far enough away from Nathan so that he canât find me, Iâm going to need a good head start. I know he wonât let me go easily, heâll look for me, so I need to ensure Iâm not easily findable, by him or by the Originals. I will send the money back to him as soon as Iâm on my feet.
I resist the urge to touch him one last time, afraid Iâll wake him. Silent tears trickle down my cheeks. I donât bother to wipe them away.
I take one last look at him, ingraining him onto my memory. Then, using every ounce of strength I have, I turn and move silently through the room.
With a quiet click of the door I let myself out into the well-lit hallway.
And then I run.