Hey everyone!

So I thought I had uploaded this chapter on Sunday but it turns out I didn't? I don't really know how I got so confused but here we are. So sorry about my complete lack of organisation! I will try to update regularly but, as I'm sure it is very clear, I'm terrible at time management and keeping to schedules so I'm going to update when I can!

Thank you so much for your reviews, follows and favourites!

Some of you accurately guessed that it was Eric rescuing her - the Armani was the clue, it was the brand that she sprayed everywhere in his office while she was drunk. It was a bit of an obscure reference to an earlier chapter but I couldn't resist!

Rated M: swearing, violence, fire, death. Wow, there is a lot of drama this chapter.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome!

Enjoy!

Chapter Thirteen

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The first thing I noticed was the strong smell of disinfectant. It clogged my nose and overpowered me, leaving me with a killer headache. The second thing I noticed was the beeping noise, it was loud and grating, a steady beat that would not go away no matter how much I silently begged it to.

I was warm and wrapped in worn and scratchy blankets that irritated my skin but I found I didn't have the energy to open my eyes, let alone move my arms, so I just lay there in mild discomfort.

My mind was pleasantly blank and I found I couldn't focus on anything for too long as I drifted dreamily in my half-asleep state. I had no worries, no concerns, just the slightly annoying scratchy blankets and incessant beeping but I could block those out if I tried hard enough.

The next time I swam back into consciousness it was to the noise of a man crying rather loudly. It took me a while to realise that I recognised those tears, I had been hearing them all my life whenever my brother threw a tantrum.

With monumental effort, I managed to pry one eyelid open. It hurt like a bitch, the bright sterile light of the room seemed to stab my already sore head and my eyes watered and stung at being exposed to the dry air. After another minute of struggling I finally managed to open my other eye, internally wincing at the fresh wave of pain.

Sitting by my bed, looking, and smelling, like he hadn't showered in days was my older brother, Matt. He was sobbing into his shirt, making it a damp, snotty mess.

I opened my mouth to speak and, in my mind, I told him to stop being so gross but all that came out was, "hnnnggghh."

Matt's head snapped up and his bleary, bloodshot eyes locked with mine. He stared at me wordlessly for a moment before letting out a joyous yell, skidding out of the room.

"She's awake! She's awake," he shouted down the hall, jumping up and down excitedly.

The room was suddenly crowded with people, all their faces blurring together as I tried to focus my eyes. All the noise and the movement were overwhelming and caused the pain in my head to start searing. Distantly, I noted that the beeping noise that had been slow and consistent before was now loudly beating at an alarmingly rapid rate.

In my confusion and fear, I didn't notice the nurse come in and usher most of the people out, leaving me alone with two other people. I took a moment to calm myself and then set about recognising who they were.

"Hi, sweetie," my mom said, giving me a strained smile. Her eyes were slightly red, like she had been crying, but they were dry now.

"How are you feeling?" Chief asked, not hiding the tears in his.

It took me a while but eventually I managed to force out a question, one that had been bothering me ever since I had woken up. "Where am I?"

My mother's face fell, for a second, before she forced a smile again, this one wavering more than the last. Chief patted her shoulder comfortingly.

"She's on a lot of painkillers right now, Stella, the doctors said to expect this – its perfectly normal," he murmured before turning back to me. "You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?" His voice was soft and gentle, his body language tired and drooping – I had never seen him so exhausted.

Somewhere, in the back of mind, a voice was telling me that I should be alarmed by everything that I was hearing, by the fear written plainly on my family's faces but a fog induced by painkillers drowned it out and left me feeling drowsy and confused.

"No," I muttered, trying to stay awake. My eyes fluttered shut then snapped back open after a loud bang broke the peaceful silence that had descended.

My mother had slammed her fists against a table and was struggling against Chief, who was restraining her, looking angry but not surprised by her behaviour.

"You stupid girl! Getting involved with vampires – look where it has gotten you! I told you stay away from them, that they were dangerous and would bring nothing but trouble but you didn't listen!" She was wailing, her voice cracking from the strength of her fury, or frustration – I could never tell with my mother. "When you're in a suitable frame of mind we will be having a talk, young lady! How could you? How could you get kidnapped, have multiple attempts made on your life by vampires and not tell me? I'm your mother! You almost died tonight, Amelia, and the doctors say your leg might never recover after being crushed like that – you're career might be over and for what? Some walking corpses who don't give a damn about you, that's what." My mother sobbing, yelling, and if I hadn't been so high I would have been terrified – I had never seen her so emotional before. The words normally used to describe my mother were cold, hard, unshakable, not this mess of a woman. Her hair, normally tightly tied back in a severe, red bun was hanging loose and wild around her head. The purple bags under her eyes made her deep, brown eyes appear almost black in the harsh hospital light. I almost couldn't recognise her.

"Stella," Chief barked at her. "That's enough! Let Amelia rest and we will come back later once you have had a chance to calm down."

They shuffled out, my mother's crying echoing in the room long after the door had clicked shut behind her.

I stared absently at the dust particles floating in the air, trying to understand what my mom had been talking about but it was futile, i couldn't remember anything, and soon enough I was unconscious again, walking in the world of dreams.

The next time I woke up, it was much easier to open my eyes. I didn't know what had disturbed me and couldn't find anything amiss. The room was pitch black, the only sound the steady bleep of my heart monitor, which emitted an eerie red light. I struggled to sit up and then winced when it felt like my whole body was on fire – the painkillers had worn off and I was painfully sober.

I groaned loudly, trying to limit my movements as I settled back more comfortably. The room was unbearably hot in true southern fashion and the air conditioning unit was broken – I was a sticky mess, making my cast frustratingly itchy. My cast…

Why was I wearing a cast? Why was I in a hospital?

The heart monitor started going crazy as I panicked, searching my brain for answers. The last thing I could remember was leaving the Firehouse, was I in a car crash? Why couldn't I remember anything?

"I will not hurt you," a voice spoke from the shadows.

I screamed, attempting to put some distance between the intruder and me but only ended up falling backwards off the bed. I yelped and prepared for the pain that was soon to follow as I crashed to the hard floor but a strong, cold set of hands caught me, a familiar set of strong, cold hands. The feeling of them against my back caused me to suddenly jolt as I remembered the exact feeling of them carrying me away from danger last night.

The hand gently pushed me back into the pillows.

"You!" I yelled. "I – I remember what happened, what the fuck?" I turned to Eric, eyes wide and tearful.

He looked gorgeous, as always, and his face was set in his signature expression of no expression.

"Yes, it turns out that you are dumber than we all previously thought."

I sighed deeply, "yeah." I paused, debating my next move in my mind before just saying fuck it and going for it. I reached forward and grabbed his hand, which was resting by his very muscular side. He watched me do it with a raised brow before looking mildly uncomfortable. I stared into the bottomless depths of his blue eyes, "thank you for saving my life. Again."

He rolled his eyes and pulled his hand back, casually crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't get used to it. Godric asked me to."

My heart clenched at Godric's name and I couldn't help but feel a small pang of disappointment that he wasn't there, that he hadn't come to save me, which was beyond fucked up.

Eric tilted his head, lazily observing me. "He sent me because he wanted to honor your wishes – you told him you never wanted to see him again and he respected your decision."

I didn't know what to do with that information so I just raised my brow back at Eric. "I also said I didn't want to see you again."

"We can't always get what we want and I'm not as considerate as Godric."

To both our surprise I let out a small huff of laughter, eyeing him with amusement. "Well, thanks for not being so considerate."

"Do not think this makes us friends – I don't do friendship."

It was my turn to roll my eyes at him, "of course not."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in our own thoughts. I couldn't stop thinking about that night, that vampire – their eyes were burned into the back of my mind, behind my eyelids, every time I shut them I could see them looming over me. What had they been talking about? Defying the king? What king? And Leanna… Leanna!

I abruptly sprang up, gripping Eric's hands intently, my eyes wild with panic and fear. "Leanna! What happened to Leanna? Did she survive?"

Eric studied for me moment, searching my eyes for something, although I had no idea what it was. "She did. It seems there was a lot she was not telling us. She is with Godric now. Foolish woman shouldn't have let you anywhere near her old nest."

"Hey," I spoke up in defense of her, "she tried to stop me! She glamoured me and everything! It just… wore off I guess."

Eric's eyes narrowed. "What? Glamour doesn't just wear off – explain what happened."

I thought back to that night but it was all very blurry, from both the pain medication and the trauma, my mind didn't want me to remember. "I don't – I can't – wait," I gasped, as something came back to me, "there was a voice!"

"A voice?" He sounded skepitcal.

"Yeah, it was all smoky and hoarse and it started whispering to me. It pushed the glamour out of my mind really slowly, like it was suffocating it, until it was all gone. There was no one there so I thought I had just imagined it."

"No, unless you have latent supernatural abilities we do not know about, humans cannot reverse the effects of glamour once they have been under it. This was something else."

My heart started racing as fear settled deep into my bones again, tears welling up in my eyes. "What is happening? Why is all this bad stuff happening to me? I just want to do my job and eat M&Ms in peace."

Eric stared at me impassively, heaving a dramatic sigh like my emotions were an irritating inconvenience to him. "You are lucky Godric likes you and sees some worth in you, otherwise you would be long dead."

This just made me more upset and I started to quietly cry. "You think I don't know that? This whole situation is so fucked up, oh my god. And my leg is useless now – it will take me months to recover and even then it may never fully heal. I might not ever be a fire-fighter again!" I think I could have mostly handled anything that was thrown at me as long as I got to be a fire-fighter but I had lost the one thing I had ever really cared about, I could see all my dreams, my entire identity, crumbling before my eyes.

And then, because I was so distraught, and obviously not thinking, I flew forward and onto Eric, wrapping my arms around his waist and clinging to him as he stood there in quiet surprise. I don't know why I did it, chalk it up to the remaining painkillers in my system, or maybe I was just suicidal but to my shock, and his own apparently, Eric let me do it. He was rigid and stiff at first, just standing there like a hulking mountain but after a while I felt his arms hesitantly curl around me. He was blissfully cool in the suffocating heat of the hospital room and I could feel the toned muscles of his abdomen under the cheek pressed to his chest, held taut, restraining an unbelievable amount of power. I don't know how long we stayed like that as I sat there and cried while he held me but it was so soothing and desperately needed. My whole life had become a tale of disaster and woe in such a short amount of time. I cried for myself, I cried for Leanna, I cried for the whole world, at what a state it was in. It felt too much for one person.

Eventually I pulled away, wiping my tears on the shitty hospital gown. Eric let me go and looked at the large tear stained wet patch on his shirt with disgust. "Ugh, human, if I had not promised Godric that I would ensure you are emotionally and physically in good condition, you would be dead for getting your disgusting human fluids on me. Why is it you feel the need to burden me with your emotions – this is the second time you have broken on me, why not shout and cry on Godric?"

"Ok, first of all, disgusting human fluids? You regularly have sex with humans, which involves fluids way more icky than tears, get some perspective, man. Secondly, I'm not in good emotional condition at all, like did you forget the complete mental breakdown I literally just had on you about the fact that I might never physically recover from this?" I rolled my eyes. "Lastly, I cry on you because I don't really care about your opinion, I guess." I looked away – it wasn't entirely true.

Eric quirked a brow, "fair enough." He moved over to the other side of the room, lounging in one of the rickety chairs set aside for guests. "What do you know about the vampires who attacked you? What did they say?"

I thought back to the incident, trying to remember anything we could use. "I didn't really get much – they were mostly taunting me. There were three of them. The one who was in charge is the one who attacked me after they sent the other two away – I think they were the oldest one? The youngest seemed to be very new, one of the others said that they needed to work on their stealth? They were sent to go help someone named Jillian, I think. The last vampire was called William. It was dark so I didn't see anything but the one who attacked me had blue eyes, really, really blue eyes."

Eric nodded. "I will pass this on to Godric, he made it a point to know the name of every vampire in his area so he should be able to identify them. Was there anything else?"

I felt like there was, like I was forgetting something really important. "I don't think so?" I thought some more. "Oh wait! It was really weird, the young one said something about presenting my severed head," Eric's eyes flashed, "to Leanna to teach her a lesson for pissing off a – a king? Or someone? Maybe it wasn't a king, I'm not sure, maybe I was hearing things wrong."

Eric's eyes had gone flat and hard and he was clenching his jaw. "No, that sounds right." He didn't elaborate.

"Seriously? Enough with the mysterious bullshit already! I get it – vampires are cool and enigmatic and you make a little pinky promise blood pact not to tell anyone anything about your super top secret ways but I am done sitting in the dark—" I paused and the two of us glanced around the dark room I was clearly sitting in, "figuratively. I am done figuratively sitting in the dark. I need to know what's happening! I wouldn't get into half the shitty situations I do if you guys fucking told me stuff – its actually dangerous for me not to know! Either you vampires leave me the hell alone or you start telling me shit – none of this half-assed bullshit – y'all keep saying you will keep me safe and then don't give me the information I need to do that!" I glowered at Eric, arms crossed over my chest. My rant would have looked so much better if I didn't have a bandage wrapped around my head and several casts on, but I was working with what I had.

Eric tilted his head to the side, regarding me with a calculating look. "No."

My jaw dropped. "No?"

"I'm not obligated to tell you anything."

My eyes were so wide I could almost see beyond the visible color spectrum to a new, undiscovered color. Damn, Eric was cold. I got angry. Again. "And I'm not saying you are! But if you don't want to tell me anything then you and you're vampire buddies can get out of my face for good because this lack of information has almost cost me my life multiple times. I'm not asking for your life story or deepest, darkest secrets, I'm asking to be told what is actually going the fuck on!"

Eric leaned forward, eyes aflame but expression empty. "You will speak to me respectfully or not at all – I am very skilled in the art of removing tongues. Anyway, I don't think your tiny human brain could understand all the details even if I did tell you."

My pulse jumped and I clenched my teeth, trying to reign in my temper. "Why would I speak to you respectfully when you don't treat me with the same courtesy you are demanding? Saving my life when I did not ask you to does not mean you get to treat me any way you want to, nor does it mean I have to bend to your will. I'm grateful you saved my life and I do appreciate it but I'm not a servant and you aren't my master. If giving me the information I need is too difficult then. Leave. Me. The. Hell. Alone."

Eric was looming over me in less than a second, holding my jaw in a tight grip. "You are assuming that vampires operate in the same way humans do. We don't. I can treat you in any manner I please because I can and you are powerless to stop me." He grinned, a wild and dangerous flash of his teeth that had no hint of warmth. "You talk of respect and other silly notions, human ideals, but the only two values that matter in this world are power and fear – you should remember that if you want to survive."

I glared mutinously up at him, caught between incandescent rage, and strangely, a sense of pity. What a lonely existence he had lived, to believe that about the world. His grip got tighter, and too late I remembered he could feel everything I was.

"You are a strange little thing, pitying the monster who holds your life in his hands." He spoke softly, which only made him scarier, I could hear the simmering ice behind his words – to put it simply, I had really pissed him off. "Know this, Amelia," his grip became painfully tight and I was afraid he would crush my jaw underneath his hands, "I do not need your pity, nor do I want it. It disgusts me. If you dare feel this for me again, I will kill you. Understood?"

I continued to glare at him but couldn't stop the chill that had slipped down my spine at his words. With Eric, for every step we took forward, we always took two back.

"I said," his grip became agonisingly tight, "understood?"

Unfortunately for him, someone had literally just tried to murder me less than twenty-four hours ago; my tolerance for pain and fear had gone up to a recklessly dangerous level.

I kept silent, wincing but not letting my glower waver.

"You know, I could glamour you right now and make you obey me."

My lips turned up in a mocking, if slightly bitter, smirk, "you won't."

His eyes were like shards of granite, "and why is that?"

"You like the challenge too much."

His smirk was far darker and more menacing than mine as he released me, his eyes mere inches from my own. "If I were you, I would be very careful to maintain my entertainment value. You won't like what happens to those who cross the line from amusing to annoying."

"I don't care."

His mocking smile told me that we both knew that was a lie.

Eric got up to leave and as he opened the door, he turned back to me. "One last thing, I was told to offer you my blood to heal your pitiful body."

I gave him a disgusted look, desperate for him to leave. My eyes were drooping, slowly falling shut and I had resorted to pinching myself under the blanket to stay awake. The emotional rollercoaster of our conversation had taken everything out of me.

He smiled coldly, "I told him you would refuse. Goodnight, human." The door slid shut silently after him and I gave in to my exhaustion.

I spent the next few days in hospital as they monitored my progress and slowly weaned me off the drugs after my surgery. I had listened with half an ear when the doctor came in and explained my injuries to me, and where to move forward from there - what the recovery process was like and my chances of returning to work. I was young, healthy and strong so my odds weren't bad, but they weren't good either.

I stared blankly at the wall as he talked, listening to his words but not really taking them in, instead planning my trip home and the things I would need. In the back of my mind I knew I needed to deal with this, I knew I needed to fully understand and process my reality but I was, and always have been, a firm believer in avoiding my emotions and instead I created a mental wall that stopped me from thinking about everything.

I took the wall a step further by refusing to see visitors, disallowing my family and friends access to my room. The nurses tsked and sighed at me but they couldn't disobey my clear instructions that I didn't want to see anyone. I knew my mom was going to tear me apart the next time I saw her but I just couldn't deal with her trauma on top of my own. I knew I was being cowardly and selfish but I was tired, so, so tired, I just wanted a few more days of relative peace before my world imploded.

The tragically ironic thing though, was that the one person I wanted to see was the one person who didn't come. Jesse hadn't even sent me a text to ask if I was all right and hadn't picked up any of my calls. I didn't believe that he was purposely avoiding me and figured he just hadn't heard the news yet. It still hurt.

I spent all my time sleeping. It was a way to recover, yes, but mostly I did it to stave off the inevitable crushing reality of my life and the morbid thoughts that were constantly at the back of mind. In sleep, they were silent.

After five days in the hospital I was finally released, needing to be pushed in a wheelchair due to both my arms and a leg being entombed in casts. I deliberately asked to be discharged as early as possible in the day, having clocked onto my family's routine and figured out a way to avoid them. They would go to work in the morning and then arrive at the hospital mid-afternoon to spend the next few hours trying to strong-arm their way into my room before visiting hours shut. Let it be known that the Kents never give up.

A nurse wheeled me down to the hospital entrance where I was greeted by a blast of hot air and unrelenting sun. I winced and bid goodbye to her after she settled me into a cab, fussing over me and grumbling about my pig-headed decision to go home on my own, without my family's assistance. I settled back into my seat and focused on staying awake on the drive home. The cab driver sensed that I wasn't in a very talkative mood and kept his questions to himself, kindly wheeling me into my house after dropping me off. I thanked him and made sure to give him a huge tip before sighing with relief once I was alone.

I was hungry but first I desperately needed a shower. Trying to use a wheelchair was fucking difficult and I almost gave up after only five minutes. It took me a lifetime to reach the downstairs bathroom and the only reason I actually got there was pure spite. I tried to turn on the shower, then realised I couldn't get my casts wet and instead filled the bath before wrapping them in plastic bags and awkwardly sliding into the bubbly tub. It took me an hour to wash my hair and get to a level of cleanliness that I was happy with. Manoeuvring my hair in the water without submerging my casts was the most infuriating experience of my life and I thanked the universe that I had no neighbours - my screams of frustration would definitely have earned me a noise complaint.

After my shower, I made a sandwich before wheeling over to the sofa and curling up on it to sleep. The only thing I could take from that day was that casts were literal demon spawn and existed to spite me and everything good in this world. I was so exhausted and fed up with the day that I didn't notice the shadow by the fireplace, flickering in and out of existence as the sunlight danced across the wall.

The strong smell of burning woke me up. Coughing and spluttering, I tried to sit up and my eyes watered and burned from the thick blanket of smoke that had enveloped me - and the living room.

Tears of pure terror and frustration streamed down my face at the universe's massive fuck you. The irony of a fire fighter dying in a fire was not lost on me. I dropped to the floor, keeping low and bringing my top up to cover my nose and mouth.

The living room was ablaze, orange flames curled around the walls and furniture like a lover's deadly embrace. It cast a brilliant orange glow in the murky cloud of smoke and allowed me to assess which doorway was safe to leave through.

I knew what I needed to do. The plan was to crawl past the couch, out of the living room and into the hallway before exiting the building through the front door – my closest escape route. I put one arm forward and promptly collapsed, smacking my face on the floor, my weight too much for my weakened arm. I tried again and this time made it one step before my arms gave out again. Three of my four limbs were essentially uselessly, the casts bulky and heavy and getting in the way while my bones refused to hold my weight. The realisation that I couldn't crawl away constricted my throat, my chest, my breathing. I was going to die here.

I could feel the heat of the fire licking my body from behind, edging closer and closer, excited to consume me, to devour me. I tried dragging myself away, using my one good leg as a kind lever to push myself to safety. I slowly started to inch forwards, scrabbling against the wooden floors that offered no grip.

I had never felt panic like this, even when facing those vampires. At least then I had been able to try to fight back, even if it didn't do anything, I could face my end defiantly and bravely but here, desperately trying to crawl my way to freedom, I felt powerless in a way I never had before. I knew my death would be agonising and slow; it would be meaningless and useless, unheroic. I was going to die alone and in pain because I was too slow, because my body wouldn't cooperate. The worst thing was the knowledge that only days ago I could have escaped; if my body hadn't been so broken I would have made it.

The smoke was burning my chest, my eyes, my throat. I could feel it slowly suffocating me, replacing the oxygen in my blood and slowing me even more – maybe it would kill me before the flames did. My vision started to fade in and out as I left the living room and caught a glimpse of the open front door. Outside I could see silhouettes pacing restlessly in a blur, screaming my name, but they couldn't help me all the way out there.

I tried desperately to reach the door, stretching my hands forward as my body gave out on me, leaving me less than a metre from safety. The smoke inhalation had been too great and it had taken the last of my strength with it.

As I lay there, the world fading away around me, everything seemed to go silent, almost peaceful. The orange light from the fire could almost be the orange light of a sunset to my blurry vision and I smiled serenely as the fight left me, my oxygen starved brain fooled into believing I was comfortable and sleepy. I smiled. My eyes slid shut. Then the pain started.

I cannot describe the pure agony of what it feels like to burn alive, so I am not even going to try. I thought that the pain of my skin alight with flame would be the worst part, but it was actually the feeling of my skin melting that was the true torment. I was being eaten alive by hell itself and there was nothing serene or peaceful about it.

Just as I felt the mercifully cool kiss of death brush my forehead in a soft, butterfly kiss the pain abruptly stopped. Everything stopped.

Outside I could hear the whizzing of the crickets. I could smell the old wood of my floorboards and vanilla of my body wash. Then the shouts of whoever was out outside pierced my ears and my own tormented screams joined theirs as my senses slowly came back.

My screams cut off abruptly as I held my breath in confusion and terror, staring at my unburnt house, the living room exactly the way I had left it before I fell asleep. I looked down at my body, remembered the excruciating agony I had just suffered through but there wasn't even a scorch mark. It was as though nothing had happened. That was when I lost it.

I spiralled immediately into a panic attack, wheezing and huffing, desperately trying to get air into my lungs, which were no longer cooperating with me. I started heaving miserable, petrified sobs and shook uncontrollably as I reached the door, dragging myself outside and onto the porch, not caring that I was making my attack worse – I couldn't bear to be in that house a second longer.

Eric and Godric stood outside. They were a mess, eyes frantic and horrified, hair tangled and knotted, like they had been trying to pull it out. I didn't even hesitate before I threw myself into Godric's arms, burying myself deep into his chest and clinging to him in a crushing grip.

I had no idea what happened, and from the looks of things, neither did they. But if they were here, looking completely wrecked, it meant that whatever I had just been through had been real; it hadn't just been in my mind. I didn't know what was worse.

Godric cradled me to him in an unrelenting cage made of his arms, his fangs, which presumably had dropped out in his distress, brushing the top of my head as he rained feather light kisses on top of it, whispering words I couldn't understand in jumble of different languages.

It took a long time for me to calm down, every time I almost got a hold of myself, I could feel the flames licking at my body and my panic would restart. Godric took me to the grass, refusing to let up on his death grip for even a moment. I hid myself in the safety of his chest, not wanting to see the world around me, the world I had almost lost. After a few hours my sobs turned to gasps turned to hiccups and I could almost breathe normally again. I hadn't once left the cocoon of Godric's arms and didn't really want to but eventually he pried my face away, gently holding my cheeks as he wiped the tears from them, gazing down at me in concern.

"Are you—" he tried, but had to taken a moment, closing his eyes and gathering himself before continuing, "are you capable of making a decision right now?"

I chewed my lip, unsure. "If it isn't a big one," I whispered, my voice hoarse and barely audible but it was probably perfectly clear to his vampire hearing.

"Do you want to stay here?"

I shook my head, suddenly terrified once more at the thought of going back into that house. He soothed me, whispering in that beautiful language again as he scooped me into his chest.

"Shh, little one, you are safe." He let me go, resuming his position of cradling my cheeks. "Do you have anywhere else to go?"

I shook my head again, eyes welling up with tears.

"Would you protest if I took to you to my estate here in Louisiana?"

And that was the big question – after everything that had happened, did I still trust him with my life and my safety? The answer was yes, always had been. I nodded.

It was all he needed to hear. In less than a second I was curled up in his cool arms as he whisked me away to safety.

Mwhahahaha - I just love torturing my main characters. Don't worry, I will give Milia some time to recover in the next few chapters before I throw her into more trouble.

I would love to hear your theories on what happened and I will give you a hint, the glamour wearing off and the strange real/not real fire are linked!

Milia has been a bit of a wreck these last two chapters, and not her usually fierce self, but she can't be brave and strong all the time. Frankly, she would have to be some kind of robot to be unaffected by what happened, any sane person would have a complete mental break. Also, she needs to learn not to throw herself head first into danger without any sort of plan and, unfortunately, the only way to learn that is the hard way in the True Blood universe.

I would also like to clarify that I am not a medical professional and I have no idea what the long term effects of a crushed leg are. I try to keep things accurate but I do have a story to tell and I am not an expert so just bear that in mind - the same also applies to fires. As the fire in this chapter has something to do with strange, and maybe supernatural stuff, I also didn't think the normal rules would apply. From my understanding, most people in a house fire die from smoke inhalation rather than the flames, especially if you were asleep when the fire broke out - you just go to sleep and never wake up.

Thank you so much for reading!

Next chapter: Milia is reunited with Leanna but has to learn how to live with a group of temperamental vampires.