The silence that followed stretched long enough that I started to regret everything. Then, slowly, he reached for one of the containers.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
I shrugged, pretending to study the floorboards. “It’s nothing. Just don’t starve yourself, okay?”
When I finally dared to look at him, he was watching me with an expression I couldn’t read. Some mix of gratitude and something softer. It made me feel unsteady.
Simon warmed the blood in a metal cup over the fire. I tried not to watch him drink it, but curiosity won out. His movements were restrained, almost reverent, like he hated what he needed.
When he caught me looking, his mouth curved faintly.
“Are you just going to watch me feed?” Simon teased.
I grunted. He smiled. A real one this time, and something in my chest tightened.
We sat in companionable silence for a while, the crackle of the fire the only sound between us. I could feel the tension in my shoulders easing for the first time all week.
“So,” I said finally, “any trouble lately? Anyone suspicious hanging around?”
Simon’s gaze drifted toward the window. The firelight painted half his face gold, the other half in shadow.
“Maybe,” Simon said after a moment. “Two nights ago, I thought someone was following me. But when I looked again, there was no one there.”
“Another of your sire’s failed experiments?” I asked, concerned.
I worried about him sometimes. Maybe too much.
“Could be. Or maybe I’m imagining things. Paranoia doesn’t exactly fade with age.” Simon gave a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“You’re not the paranoid type,” I said quietly.
“I wasn’t. Before.”
Before, before his sire. Before the blood, and the constant need to survive. I didn’t push.
Simon glanced back at me. “What about you? Still breathing?”
“Mostly,” I said, leaning back against the wall. “Surprised the Guild hasn’t revoked my license yet. Guess they still need someone to chase fake ghosts and clean up after rookies.”
His lips twitched. “That bad?”
I gave a small laugh. “Let’s just say morale’s not great. But it’s fine. Keeps me busy.”
“Busy doesn’t mean happy,” Simon pointed out.
“Didn’t say it did.”
For a while, we just looked at each other. There was something fragile in that quiet, something I didn’t want to break. Simon shifted closer, resting his elbows on his knees.
“You didn’t have to come here,” he said softly.
“I know,” I muttered.
“But you did.”
I swallowed hard. “Guess I’m bad at taking my own advice,” I admitted.
His hand twitched, like he was about to reach for me, then stilled. “Kit…”
