First Sentence (Blakemore Supernatural Prison Book 2) by Sullivan Gray

Author:Sullivan Gray [Gray, Sullivan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Kurt

I’m aware first of the yelling. It bounces around in my head, feeling like a baseball to the skull with each shout. I groan and try to bring myself back to consciousness. The sensation is almost like swimming for the surface from the depths of a lake. Except I’m swimming through inky, thick darkness, which is trying to keep me down.

The voices continue as I struggle, getting louder as I go, making my head pound.

“We should have known who we were pulling out!”

“We shouldn’t have pulled him out at all!”

“You were the one who asked. And I’m guessing that you were thinking with more than your head.”

“You’re the team leader. It was your call. And it was the wrong one.”

I surface with a gasp.

My eyes take a moment to adjust to the light, and though I’m telling my body to sit up, it’s not willing or able to listen. A ceiling comes into focus. One of those ugly, tiled kind like in cheap office buildings. There’s a brown water stain on the tile just above me to the right.

It’s not the ceiling at Blakemore.

Everything comes back in a rush. The intense intimacy of feeding from Kalli. The confessions I made about how much I think about her, and her flirtations, which were probably nothing more than the vampire venom working its way through her system. Because there’s no way someone as sweet as her would want a guy like me. Even if she knew the vampire beyond the cover story. The real me isn’t good enough for Kalli.

Then the needle. That thought jolts me. What did she inject me with? How am I out of Blakemore? Sleep, my sweet Kurt. The last words I remember hearing.

“Kalli,” I groan, my voice feeling like it’s being dragged over broken glass. I cough. After a lifetime of not being sick ever, these last six weeks has massively sucked. Is this what it’s like to be human? I shudder.

A face hovers above mine, breaking my thoughts and the view of the ceiling. “Good morning, sunshine.”

It takes a moment for my eyes to focus. “Hawk? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I were.”

Hawk grasps me under the shoulders, helping lift me to a sitting position. He has to keep one hand behind my back to hold me up. I’m like a wet noodle, my hands heavy in my lap.

I can wiggle my fingers, but not lift my arms. There are three other guys in the room, all dressed similarly to Hawk, in dark T-shirts and camo or cargo pants. The room looks like some abandoned school or medical facility. Cinder block walls and no furniture other than the table I’m on.

No one looks happy to see me. Not that it’s a surprise. Vampires are either loved by those who covet our beauty and the allure of never-ending life, or we’re hated and feared. Usually, the latter.

I turn my attention back to Hawk, who has more grays than the last time I saw him two years ago.

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