CLARE'S POV
By the time I dragged myself out of the river, I was shaking like a leaf. My teeth were chattering so violently, I sounded like a wet Chihuahua stuck inside a freezer with a maraca. My clothes—every soaked, clinging, freezing inch of them—dripped water in a sad, squelching trail behind me as I limped up the muddy bank. My hair was plastered to my scalp, and I'm pretty sure my socks were now classified as small aquatic ecosystems. He had dumped me into the water with my clothes on, so now I was basically taking a bath in them. Everything I was wearing was dripping wet.
"Stupid Dracula wannabe," I muttered through clenched teeth, hugging my arms tight to my chest. My soaked shirt offered zero warmth, and the icy wind made it worse. My period cramps had mostly subsided, down to a dull ache—but the cold water had brought the pain roaring back.
"You know you can't stay in those wet clothes," Blaze said, smirking. "I suggest you undress."
