“Who do you think I am? Do I seem like a blood thirsty monster to you?” he asks with a husky laugh. “I won’t deny that I’ve done wrong things, that I’ve been selfish and destructive, most of it never of my own will. But I don’t go around killing humans, that’s not my thing.”
I adjust how I’m sitting on the blanket, curiosity getting the best of me. I think back on the vampire that changed him in his memories and I wonder if Warin will be even more honest with me.
“Oz was like what you are to Samantha?” I ask and he hums. He still hasn’t opened his eyes to look at me.
“Yes, he was my sire. He was very possessive of me in that regard. Even when he released me from the sire bond, he was always near, always wanting some control over my life.”
I clear my throat. “Were you lovers?” I ask.
That has him cracking his eye open to glare at me. “No, probably to Oz’s chagrin.”
“You can’t just blame another person, though, for doing bad things.”
“I know that. He’s just a part of it. But he’s dead now and there’s no excuse.”
“He’s dead?” I ask, lightly rubbing my throat. Did Warin kill him?
“Don’t worry, sunshine, I didn’t kill him. Pretty sure our little slayer friend did, didn’t leave much behind either. That’s why I’m taking this all so seriously. Oz was centuries old, strong, and one slippery motherfucker.”
Since he’s in such an honest mood, I ask the question that I know is wholly inappropriate.
“Are you glad he’s dead?”
Warin sits up quickly, his hand on his jaw.
“Yes.”
“He was that horrible?”
“He kept me away from what I wanted most.” He stands, holding out a gloved hand, almost like some sort of trauma dump olive branch. “I think that’s enough for tonight. We can practice more tomorrow.”
I take his hand, mostly because I’m not sure what else to do. He tugs me to my feet, grabbing my blanket and folding it at a light speed as we walk into his mansion.
“Will you be hunting the Slayer tonight?”
“Yes. I know you don’t trust me, Ember Hallow, and I don’t blame you. I know that my past is irredeemable, but I’m hoping that perhaps you would consider gifting me with some of that delicious kindness you hand out to other pathetic creatures. I was quite hoping you’d like to be my friend.”
I pause our trek to the house. Lighting bugs glitter the sky and frogs bellow as I stare at the vampire before me.
“Warin, I literally just watched you kill someone in your memories,” I say plainly.
“Yes, but that was a hundred years ago,” he says, like that makes so much sense in his mind.
I suppose that makes sense, for him it feels like multiple lifetimes ago. I rub the bridge of my nose. He was honest, he did what I asked, I can give him some leeway too.
“What does being friends mean to you?”
“Well…we would hang out. We would talk to each other. I don’t know, do stuff,” he says, like he’s making it up as he speaks.
“Do stuff?” I repeat.
Warin holds his hands up in the air, exacerbated. “Yes, like go places and talk or laugh.”
“Go where, Warin? A day trip to get beignets and a cup of coffee?” I say it, and it feels rude even as I do, guilt churning as the words slip out of me.
“Is that what it would take?”
My brows furrow as I stare at him. “That was rude?—”
