“I do. It’s called being a vampire,” I shot back, my exasperation peaking.
Then, deciding she needed something undeniable, I stood. She flinched again. I tore a few squares of paper towel off the roll and held out my hand. The wound had already stopped bleeding, the tissue nearly finished stitching itself back together.
Very deliberately, I wiped the blood away. The wound beneath was nearly gone—only a faint line of pale pink. As we watched in silence, it vanished.
Sam let out a sharp gasp. “Holy shit.” Her eyes were wide when they met mine. “Okay, I believe you.”
“Delightful.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
“Wait, if you’re a vampire, are you going to—”
“Let’s skip the part where you ask me a dozen equally inane questions about whether you’re safe with me and what my intentions are, shall we? You and your brother are under my protection, and I have no intention of ever harming either of you. Let’s get to the part where I offer to help you instead.”
Her eyebrows drew together, lips parting in surprise. “Wait—why?”
I opened my mouth to say it was for Eli. Instead, what came out was, “I want to ease your suffering, if I can.”
The moment I said it, I knew it was true. It wasn’t just because of Eli. It was because he loved her, and therefore, she mattered. Because the young girl in the photo hadn’t deserved the weight of her father’s mistakes—or his violence. Because if she’d been honest—and she had, I would’ve heard it in her heartbeat—it meant she had spent a good part of her life protecting the man who’d captured my heart. She’d more than earned any kindness I had to spare. And it was deeply unfair that she was still suffering.
Apparently, this new version of me—the creature I’d been becoming since the moment I laid eyes on Eli—cared about things like fairness.
Sam went quiet, staring at me. I had to give her credit—she was taking the whole thing exceptionally well. I guessed she was sizing me up, deciding if I was trustworthy.
“What do you have in mind?” she said.
“All vampires have some degree of hypnotic ability. It’s a type of mind control. It’s rather effective.”
“That’s probably really useful for making people forget what you are,” she said quietly. The question in her voice wasn’t hard to parse.
I inclined my head. “Indeed. I’ll need to make you forget this conversation, regardless of what you choose tonight.”
“Choose?”
“This must be your choice. Even if you won’t consciously remember making it, some part of you will. The deeper parts—far below the surface—will still remember.”
“And you’ll—what? Wave a magic wand and make my drinking problem go away?”
“I would have, once upon a time,” I admitted. “But that would only repress everything. The emotions beneath your addiction—they’d seek expression elsewhere. In other ways.”
“Why would you even need my consent?” Sam asked. “Why tell me what you are at all? Even if you’re going to take the memory later—” She shuddered, glancing at the shard of glass I still held. “—why go through all this trouble?”
“I don’t need you to be my puppet,” I told her, aiming for as much honesty as I could. “You don’t need to dance for me or do what I say. I’m offering you the choice to ease some of the pain.”
“That’s—you can’t just take away someone’s pain,” she said, scandalized.
I inclined my head. “Correct. It would do more harm than good. But I can limit how much pain you experience at any one time—give you room to process it gradually. Perhaps you could give therapy another go.”
“Have you ever done this before?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t. I’d never tried to use my gift to heal anyone—or give them the space to heal themselves. I’d always used it to get what I wanted, when I wanted it.
“You’d be taking a risk. But if I noticed any unfortunate side effects, I’d undo the hypnotic suggestion at once.” I gave her a thin-lipped smile. “I’m afraid human emotions haven’t really been my thing.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” She was calmer now. Oddly, the risk seemed to reassure her.
“It’s a recent development,” I assured her.
Sam hesitated. “I have a question. Two, actually.”
