Unfortunately, the girl I love is far more intuitive than is sometimes helpful, like the times when I don’t want to admit things to myself. “You want to fight demons like Donovan will.”
“Yes,” I admit in a guilty whisper. “I should be grateful that my calling doesn’t require actively putting myself in harm’s way, but it’s…” I open my eyes to look up at her, hoping that I can express why I’d want a future that she finds unfair to ask of anyone. “There’s a clearer right and wrong, a straightforward path to save lives in a way I’m uniquely built and trained to do.” I release a tightly held breath. “The souls that die from demon attacks are tragic, but… but it’s something I can explain. Their deaths aren’t their fault. I can handle working through the stages of that grief.”
I’m relieved when she responds with an understanding smile. Her gaze then drifts toward the view beyond the overlook. “I’ve thought about this since the demons attacked my house.” Her hand drifts to mine, resting on my chest, and gives it a squeeze. “Ideally, I wouldn’t want you or Donovan in danger, but since Donovan has no choice…” Her clear, water gray eyes return to mine, her expression conflicted. “Since it’s something you want, have you considered going with Donovan when it’s time? No one should have to face that fate alone.” A sardonic smile crosses her lips. “I could make you one of those overpowered swords like I made for Donovan last Christmas.”
“As much as Donovan drives me crazy,” I reply, lacing my fingers together, “I don’t like the idea of him going at it alone either.” My heart aches with longing for a life I want. “But there’s no way the concilium will agree to it.”
Callie’s lips pinch, and anger furrows her fine eyebrows. “Not even remotely respectfully, they can go fuck themselves. The division is stupid. The way you’re all treated like commodities to control is disgraceful. They should be thanking their damn lucky stars that you want to protect the innocent from demons.” Her fingernails start to dig into the back of my hand as she grows more outraged. “Tell them they can take a long walk off a short cliff. It’s your life, your future. You get to decide what you do with it.”
My lips curl inward to stop myself from laughing. “That insult doesn’t hold much weight when you can fly.”
She glares down at me without any heat. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”
I lift her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles. “I do.” Giving myself time to imagine a new path for my future, I feel like who I am clicks into place. I’m a fighter, a protector. I’m imperfect but passionate in my convictions. My voice turns wistful. “I want that life.”
Callie leans forward, her long hair a curtain around her face, and a steely stubbornness enters her eyes. “Then fight for it. Don’t take no for an answer.” A dangerous smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. “If anyone has a problem with your chosen path, I’m more than happy to step in and convince them.”
Reaching up to cup the back of her head, I lean up to give her a deep kiss. Amusement colors my words when I murmur, “I love you and all that you are, but sometimes you can be quite scary.”
Her smile grows. “Thank you.” She returns my kiss. “And I love you too.”
Chapter 9
Nolan
Standing outside of my grandmother’s commandeered office, I release a pent-up breath. I promised I would get Callie something she could use to help convince Mildred to allow “James” to be made into my thrall, which means getting my grandmother, Dalia, on my side. Hopefully, she’ll also help with my parents. I can only imagine how they’ll feel when I ask to make my friend into, as Felix puts it, my personal Capri-Sun.
“Stop hovering outside the door,” my grandmother bellows from the other side. “I can hear you nervously fretting from my desk.”
Here goes nothing.I open the door, trying to look as confident as possible. “Good afternoon, Grandmother. My apologies for not knocking sooner.”
She looks up from her grand oak desk covered in stacks of paperwork with a hint of amusement in her pale blue eyes. “What is it you want, Grandson?”
“Can’t I want to spend time with you, since you’ll be leaving soon?” I ask innocently as I approach her desk bathed in sunlight from the large bay windows. I intentionally keep mygaze focused on this side of the room, ignoring the remaining medical equipment that reminds me too much of how close I was to a slow, withering death.
“Not soon enough for your father’s liking,” she replies with a twist of her thin lips. “And you wouldn’t be hovering outside my door unless you wanted something. Quit trying to charm me and get to the point.”
With a deep sigh, I sit down in one of the chairs across her desk, leaning forward to prop my elbows on my bent knees. “I need your help with something.” My heart begins to thump loudly in my ears. In the abstract, this didn’t seem like a big deal. It’s the easiest solution to protect Felix’s memories. Feeding from people, though, especially my friends, has filled me with shame for years, and now I’m going to actively ask for it as a permanent fixture in my life.
“And that is?” She raises a single white brow, her sharp features shifting toward strained patience.
My gaze drifts toward the bookcases that line the walls, the only remaining signs of the room’s original purpose. For some reason, I can’t look at her and say what I need at the same time. “I’m… struggling with bag blood. Not that I can’t keep it down, it’s just…”
“Disgusting,” my grandmother supplies, distaste coloring her voice.
I nod, feeling guilty to admit the truth. This is supposed to be about helping Felix, but not having to survive completely on bagged blood has a lot of appeal.
She folds her hands on her desk, and genuine sympathy crosses her features. “Grandson, there’s no shame in wanting to feed on fresh blood. It’s what our kind is meant to do. Baggedblood only makes us appear more palatable for those who want to deny what we are.”
“Why is that?” I ask, knowing but also wanting to hear it. I need the validation that I’m not built wrong.
“We are predators,” she answers simply, unaffected and unapologetic. “We are a civilized society that has built etiquette around how we feed. However, that doesn’t negate the fact that we are an apex predator, and humans are what we require to survive.” Standing up from her swivel chair, she circles to the front of the desk and leans against the corner. “Living outside of your kind has left you ashamed over what you are, and I regret that. It doesn’t mean you must continue this way.”
How matter of fact she is untangles some of the shame that’s tied up in all the things I did to survive. I further consider the twins’ offer to tutor me on vampire society. Knowing more about where I come from and how our society incorporates what we need and what we are sounds… healing.
My grandmother taps her slender fingers against the edge of the desk, disrupting my inner musings. “I could send one of the family thralls to live with you, or you’re welcome to return with me to Prima for a time, meet the rest of your family, and pick out a thrall who best suits you.”
“About that…” I run a hand through my hair, trying to push down the nerves crawling up from my belly. “I kind of already picked someone to be my thrall—my human friend, James.” My words pick up speed as I quickly try to give all the reasons why he would be better than the more obvious solution my grandmother provided. “He already lives in town and is a regular at my house. There’d be no reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary going on. Considering we have human servants who I really like and don’t want their memories wiped,keeping up appearances is very important. Also, he’s eighteen, if that matters. I don’t really know the rules for choosing thralls.”
