Reyna’s POV
The night was cool, but there was this surge of restlessness within me. I was still not yet able to understand why I couldn’t heal when lord Bernard cut my wrist with the dagger.
“She’s not one of us,” the voice continued to replay in my head. That was lord Bernard’s verdict, and it really made me feel embarrassed.
I decided to meet up with Jake and to ask him a couple of questions. I wanted to know if there was something special in the dagger he had used to stab me that had made me heal.
I felt like I was losing my mind. Maybe I was, and who knows, maybe, just maybe, that was the reason my father had rejected me.
I hurried down the hallway, my heart pounding in my chest as I approached Jake’s room. We haven’t seen eyeball to eyeball ever since John returned. I think he has been avoiding me, if not, why didn’t he attend the initiation ceremony.
When I reached his door, I knocked softly at first, then louder when I got no response.
“Jake?” I called out, knocking again, but still nothing.
After a few moments of silence, worry took over. I hesitated for a second before deciding to push the door open. As soon as I stepped inside, I saw him.
Jake was lying on the bed, groaning in pain, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He was bleeding.
“Jake,” I called his name, rushing over to his side. “Jake, can you hear me?”
He didn’t answer, just winced and let out another painful groan. I could see the agony in his eyes, but he was trying to keep it together, not wanting to accept the fact that he needed help.
That was Jake, always like that-too stubborn to admit when he needed help.
“Jake!” I called again, louder this time, but his breathing was shallow, and his skin was pale. He was in bad shape, and I didn’t know what to do.
My first instinct was to run and get help, to find John or anyone who could patch him up, but as I turned to leave, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me back.
“Don’t… go,” he rasped, his voice weak, barely above a whisper.
I froze, torn between the need to help and the fear of leaving him alone like this. He looked so vulnerable, so unlike the Jake I knew. Panic surged through me, and I knelt beside him, and for some unknown reasons, I wanted to stay by his side..
“Jake, you need help,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I can’t just leave you like this. Let me get John, please.”
He shook his head weakly, his grip on my wrist tightening just enough to hold me in place. “I’ll… be fine. Just… stay.”
“But you’re not fine!” I argued, my voice rising in desperation. “Look at you! What can I do? Please, tell me what I can do.”
His eyes fluttered open for a brief moment, meeting mine with a mixture of pain and something else-something softer, something I hadn’t seen before. “Just… stay with me,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “That’s all I need.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him that wasn’t enough, but the look on his face stopped me. I couldn’t abandon him, not now, not when he was like this. I sighed, my panic settling into a deep, aching worry.
I tried to get up again, my intention still to call for help, but Jake pulled me back. I stumbled and fell onto the bed, landing awkwardly against his chest. For a second, I froze, my hands splayed against his bare skin, feeling the warmth of his body despite the pain he was in.
And in that moment, something shifted. I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or the way his hand still clung to mine, but a strange electricity pulsed between us, something neither of us expected. His pain seemed to dull, and when I looked up, our eyes locked.
We were so close-closer than we’d ever been before. My heart was racing for an entirely different reason now. I could feel his breath against my lips, and before I could think, before I could stop myself, we leaned in at the same time.
Our lips met, soft at first, hesitant, but then the spark ignited into something more. The kiss deepened, and I felt Jake’s hand slide up my arm, pulling me closer. His body, despite the pain, seemed to relax beneath me, and I could feel the tension in him ease.
Somehow, impossibly, the kiss was making him feel better.
We broke apart after a moment, both of us breathless, our faces inches apart. “I’m sorry,” we both said at the same time, a little laugh escaping my lips despite the seriousness of the situation. But the apology didn’t stop either of us.
We kissed again, this time with more certainty, the heat between us pushing everything else-his injury, my panic-out of our minds. It was like nothing else existed but us in that moment.
Until we heard a soft “hmm” from the doorway.
We broke apart instantly, turning toward the sound, and my heart sank when I saw who it was.
Stephanie stood there, her arms crossed over her chest, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Well,” she said, her tone light but sharp. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
“Stephanie, wait!” I jumped to my feet, but she was gone already.