He nods once, sharp and pained.
"That was the first time I realized no one was coming to stop him," I whisper.
"You were just a child."
"So were you, once."
Something shifts in his expression. Raw recognition, maybe. Or grief. He reaches for me again, instinctively, his hand slipping lower to graze the cluster of scars along my collarbone where my shirt has shifted. For a second, I'm amazed by how it feels—gentle, reverent, like he's touching something precious instead of damaged. The moment our skin connects—
Another flash.
Suddenly my body is larger, stronger, built like a predator. The room dim around me as I look into the eyes of a young man.
"Yes, just this once."
I don't hesitate, my fangs extending, sinking into his willing flesh. He moans beneath me, body arching into the bite, lost in his own pleasure. But the hunger claws at me, desperate and aching, while I close my eyes and pretend it's her skin beneath my lips. Her pulse, her warmth, her choice. But it's not. His blood tastes like ash as it coats my tongue. It's not her. Notwhat I really want, not who I need. And somehow the hunger is worse than before I started. We break apart, both breathing hard.
Suddenly I'm back in my own body, smaller, softer, but still shaking from the memory of being him. Of feeling his desperation, his hunger, his shame.
Thane looks wrecked. Not just shattered like before—mortified. Like I've seen something he never meant for anyone to know.
"Is that what it's like when you feed?" I ask quietly.
"Not like that." His voice is barely a whisper. "Not ever. Not until you."
The space between us feels charged, electric. I take a step closer, drawn by something I don't entirely understand.
"What if I want to be different?"
The words hang between us. Something shifts in his expression—hunger, maybe, or need. His careful control cracks just a little.
"Bree—"
"I'm not a child anymore," I say softly. "And I'm not afraid of you."
He moves then, suddenly, backing me toward the low stone wall that separates the garden from the world beyond. Not aggressive—urgent. Like he can't help himself anymore.
My back meets stone. His hands brace on either side of me, caging me in but not trapping me. I could slip away if I wanted.
I don't want to.
"Tell me to stop," he breathes against my ear.
"No."
Chapter 46
Thane
"Tell me to stop," I breathe against her ear.
"No."
The single word breaks something in me. Not my control—that's been fracturing since the moment she touched me. Something deeper. Something I thought I'd buried centuries ago.
Hope.
I pull back just enough to see her face in the moonlight. Her green eyes are steady, certain, and there's no fear in them. There should be. After everything she's seen, everything I've shown her—the hunger, the desperation, the way I've fed on others while thinking of her—there should be wariness. Calculation. Self-preservation.
