He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I could never hate you. I don’t care about your past. I care about who you are now. I care about the person I’ve come to know.” His words cut through my defenses, weakening my resolve.
“I can’t give you what you need,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Connor’s thumb traced the curve of my cheek, his eyes searching mine. “Maybe what I need is you, Rose,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “Whatever struggles you’re facing, we can face them together. You don’t have to be alone.”
“I can’t,” I said, tears escaping my eyes. “I’m sorry, Connor. But I can’t be with you.” The weight of my decision settled heavily on my chest as I watched the hurt register on his face.
“I know you’re always optimistic, but this is not one of those times to be positive. We will never work together, okay?” I continued, stepping back and wiping away my tears. “I just don’t feel the same way about you, Connor. Just let it go.” Each word felt like a dagger, piercing both of our hearts.
Connor’s phone rang, shattering the tense moment. He checked the caller ID with frustration evident in his expression. “God damn it, Sam. He always calls at the worst times,” he muttered, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
“Answer it. We are done talking anyway,” I urged, bending down to put my shoes back on.
“I’m not answering it. And we are nowhere near done.” Connor’s voice was sharp with pain, his patience wearing thin. He didn’t move to stop me as I walked past him to the door, throwing on my coat.
His phone rang once more.
“Connor, just answer it,” I insisted, knowing Sam’s persistence would only escalate until Connor picked up.
“What?” Connor answered the call, irritation clear in his voice. I could hear Sam’s urgent tone on the other end, explaining that he and Ivy were leaving town for a few days to lay low after last night’s events. He urged Connor to do the same. “Well, I’m in the middle of something right now,” Connor said tersely, ending the call without further explanation to Sam.
Turning back to me, Connor’s eyes softened momentarily. “Where were we?”
“I was just leaving,” I replied, zipping up my coat and heading toward the door.
“Rose, talk to me,” Connor pleaded, his voice filled with longing.
“I don’t want to keep having this conversation with you,” I said firmly. “But before I leave, I will tell you that you should be careful with Sam. He’s not who he says he is. He’s dangerous.”
“You’ve said that before,” Connor remarked, his brows furrowed together in concern.
“Yeah, well, Vail thinks he’s making drugs, selling them … and that he’s a witch. Or a warlock, whatever,” I explained, my words hanging heavy in the air as Connor straightened.
“What?” His disbelief mirrored the skepticism he had shown when I told him about Vail being a witch.
“Sam is a witch,” I repeated firmly.
“What proof do you have?” Connor asked, using the same words I had used when I questioned him about Vail’s vampiric nature.
“Now that I know Sam’s out of town, Vail and I are going to get proof tonight,” I informed him.
Connor’s eyes widened in concern as he reached for his coat. “Well then, I’m coming too.”
FORTY-FOUR
February 21, 1892
There was this need inside me that could not be controlled. I would feed for three to four days at a time and then return to the cabin, to Draven. During those times I would black out, only to be plagued by memories that were not my own. I hated it. Though once I got back to Draven, I would grow hungry again and leave, forgetting the torment it caused me. It was a never-ending cycle of me leaving and then Draven helping me.
I’d been in town longer than I had before, nights blending into weeks as I kept myself hidden away during daylight hours in the basement of a kind old man. He welcomed me without knowing what I was, offering shelter from the storm. Now, he lies among dozens of bodies, decaying in the corner of the basement.
I did not want to kill any of them, but it was easier, feeding from them without glimpsing their memories and thoughts. Though I was full, I felt empty inside. I felt like an animal, and I didn’t want Draven to see me in this manner. I knew he was searching for me. I kept hidden. How could I confess the atrocious acts I’d committed?
The air in the basement was stale, the scent of rotting flesh was abhorrent, and I was not even hungry, but I feltbored. I stalked through the streets every night looking for anyone to seduce. It was a game to me, flirting with the townsfolk, igniting desire within them.“Don’t play with your food,”my mother’s voice would echo in my mind at times. Yet, it was exhilarating.
I would lure them home, hoping for an exciting night of intimacy. They would step inside, their hearts brimming with anticipation, only to have their necks snapped before they could even taste fear.
It was better that way, I convinced myself as I fed from them. For the both of us.
