Chapter 50: Blood
Vivian Grey’s POV
"The plane’s here," he had said.
I looked up at him, skeptical. I hadn’t heard anything yet. But before I could ask, he pointed south, and my breath caught.
Far in the distance, a small speck moved toward us, growing steadily bigger. A low, familiar rumble followed, and with it came the reality I’d been quietly dreading all morning.
He was really leaving.
"Wow, that’s actually kind of cool," I murmured, my gaze still fixed on the distant horizon.
The plane had just landed moments ago, and a group of men moved quickly to unload it. They carried bags and crates of all shapes and sizes, each one draped in red cloth like something out of a secret ceremony. I barely paid them any mind until Zaliver stepped in front of me and gently turned my face toward him with a hand under my chin.
"Hey," he said softly, voice edged with seriousness, "while I’m gone, I need you to take care of yourself. You hear me?"
I nodded automatically, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. They were locked in, deep, commanding, and almost worried in a way I wasn’t used to seeing on him.
"Eat every day. Shift at least twice this week. Lock the damn door when you shower. Don’t go anywhere alone. And for Moon’s sake, don’t forget to tell the guards if you need something. If you—"
"Basically, don’t die while you’re gone. Got it," I cut in with a small grin, trying to lighten the mood. "I think I’ll manage, considering I somehow survived eighteen years without you."
I expected a smirk, even a chuckle. He didn’t return the smile.
Instead, he raised his hand and brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch lingered. His fingers moved from the corner of my eye down the curve of my cheek, tracing along my lips and then back again, a gentle, intimate path that felt more like a goodbye than anything he could have said.
"You don’t have to anymore," he whispered.
I stayed very still. Four words, quiet enough that the wind nearly took them, and yet they landed in the center of my chest like something heavy and certain. Like a door opening onto a room I hadn’t known was there. I didn’t know how to answer that. I wasn’t sure he expected me to. Maybe it was enough that he’d said it out loud, and I’d heard it, and neither of us had looked away.
Then he leaned in and kissed me.
It wasn’t like our usual kisses. Those were fire and dominance, passion that threatened to consume. This one was different. Soft. Deep. It reached something raw inside me and pulled it gently to the surface. When he finally pulled away, I felt breathless and a little empty, like he’d taken something with him I hadn’t realized I was giving.
He was the last one to board the plane. I watched him go and didn’t look away until the door sealed shut behind him.
"Goodbye," he said, his voice low and warm. "Take care, Vivian. Be a good cloud and try not to stir up too much trouble, okay?"
I nodded, still reeling from the kiss, and gave him one last look before he disappeared into the jet.
Wait.
Cloud?
I stood there on the tarmac a moment longer than I needed to, watching the door close, turning that word over in my mind and feeling the strange warmth of it. Then I made myself walk back to the car before my face could give everything away.
I must’ve dozed off somewhere between missing him and exhaustion winning, because the vibration startled me back awake.
The bed trembled lightly beneath me, and I blinked through the haze of half-sleep, disoriented. I tossed back the covers, following the sound, until I found a sleek black iPhone wedged beneath Zaliver’s pillow. My brows furrowed. Had he forgotten it?
But when I saw the caller ID, my heart skipped.
His name.
There was no way he could call himself, so whose phone was this? No unfamiliar scents. No signs of anyone else coming into the room. Just me and this mysteriously ringing phone.
He left it for me.
I answered it quickly and lay back down, pressing the phone to my ear.
"So, you can use a phone?" I teased, smiling faintly.
His voice, that deep baritone I already missed too much, crackled through the line.
"Of course I can. I just prefer a clearer image when I’m checking in on my mate," he said casually, though I could hear papers rustling on his end. "How do you like your phone?"
"It’s awesome, thanks," I said, pulling the blanket over me again. "Anything interesting happen?"
He chuckled. That sound. I could live off it.
"Nothing worth reporting. But I did find the first of your gifts. I think you’ll like it."
"First?" I repeated, curiosity piqued. "As in first of many?"
"Yes, first of many. You didn’t seriously think—"
But I never heard the end of that sentence.
Because suddenly, pain, blinding, searing, gut-wrenching pain, shot through my stomach.
The phone slipped from my fingers as I doubled over, arms instinctively wrapping around my torso. I felt like something inside me was tearing itself apart. My breathing grew erratic. I could barely hear Zaliver shouting my name from the phone that had slid somewhere under the sheets.
I stumbled from the bed and staggered into the bathroom. The second I reached the toilet, I vomited violently. My body trembled as wave after wave wracked through me. My throat burned, my skin clammy and hot, yet I was shivering.
Then I looked at my hands.
Red.
No. No, no, no.
I forced my teary eyes to glance into the toilet bowl.
Blood.
Zaliver’s voice was louder now, frantic and desperate, tearing through the phone I couldn’t reach anymore. I heard my name over and over, and each time it sounded further away, like the volume was being turned down on the world one notch at a time until there was nothing left to hear.
The floor tilted.
The last thing I felt was the cold tile rushing up hard and fast to meet me, and then the world simply stopped.
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