Bound By Moonlight to My Mates (by Sofange Daye) novel Chapter 60

Chapter 60

The smell of coffee fills my senses before I even register that the door is unlocking. My hands are curled into fists on my knees, my nails biting into my skin, creating thick cuts that will take days for Tala to heal. I’ve been sitting on the edge of the bed for what feels like hours, staring at the same spot on the wall. It has changed and morphed until now, it is nothing more than a grey blur.

The studio feels smaller today. Too small. Each passing moment in this prison feels like the walls are closing in. Even the single shaft of morning light cutting through the blinds looks pale and weak, like it has given up too.

The door opens. Jake’s voice is soft but too bright, like he’s trying to fake being normal, but this is not normal. “Hey, Lotte. We brought you breakfast.”

Damon comes in behind him, balancing two paper bags and a cardboard drink tray. He glances at me once and then away again. His jaw tightens at the sight of me, and something unreadable flickers in his eyes.

My fingers continue to scratch at my skin, and I don’t take my eyes off the spot. I couldn’t answer them if I wanted to. My throat is too raw, swollen with promises that I can’t keep. My eyes burn from the tears that now feel like acid.

Jake gasps when he lays eyes on me. “Charlotte?” He sets the food down on the counter and crosses the room in long strides. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Nothing. Everything. Me.

“I…” My voice breaks. Tears spill before I can stop them, burning tracks down my

cheeks.

Damon drops the food and kneels in front of me, hands gripping my knees. He pries my hands from my legs and holds them tightly. His warmth seeps through my skin, warm and inviting, but it does nothing to stop the cold sinking into my

bones.

“Talk to us,” he says. “Tell us what’s happening.”

I shake my head. The words are knives. If I let them out, they’ll cut me into ribbons. I can’t bleed in front of them, not when everyone is relying on me.

Jake sits beside me on the bed, looping an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. “You’re shaking,” he

murmurs.

I bury my face against him, inhaling his familiar scent, but even that doesn’t reach me. Everything feels distant, like I’m trapped behind glass. I feel like an animal on display, watching the world happen around me, and when I realize that I can’t be a part

of it, I begin to die a little bit at a time.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper.

Damon’s head snaps up. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t,” I repeat, louder now. “All of it. The running, the hiding, the fighting. Everyone dies around me. Maybe the elders were right. Maybe…” My stomach lurches. “Maybe I’m the curse.”

Silence.

Jake’s arms tighten around me, but he doesn’t try to argue. Damon’s hands slide up to cradle my face. His thumbs brush away the tears, but they just keep coming.

“They wanted to kill me,” I choke. “And sometimes…Sometimes I think they were right. That it would be easier. For everyone.”

Damon swears under his breath, a low, vicious sound. “Don’t you ever say that again.”

I flinch. “I’m tired,” I whisper. “So tired. I keep thinking about Ronan, and what he’s risking for me, and how many of you I’ll get killed before this is over. The sickness hasn’t stopped. It is all over the news. Even the humans are sensing it. Tala has shut herself off from me. Color has drained from the world, leaving me in nothing but shades of black and gray. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Jake presses his forehead to mine. “Look at me.” His voice is rough. “You’re not a curse. You’re the only good thing in all this

mess.”

But I can’t look at him. I stare at the floor instead, at the cracked panes of wood, at the faint smear of dirt from their boots. “I don’t feel good,” I mumble. “I feel…poisoned. Like everything I touch rots.”

The coffee smell has turned bitter in the air. Damon sits back on his heels, raking a hand through his hair. Jake rocks me slightly, like a child. Their warmth surrounds me, but can’t get in.

“Charlotte,” Damon says finally, voice quieter. “You’ve survived everything they’ve thrown at you. Don’t let them win now.”

But I don’t know how.

My fingers curl into Jake’s shirt. “I’m scared,” I whisper.

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