Foolish girl.
I sit beside her and angle toward her, close enough that our knees touch.
Outside, an owl calls, and the wind rattles the windowpanes.
I place my fingers on her temples and begin feeding slowly. Her skin is feverishly warm. The incantation flows from my lips, and her eyes widen as she feels the first pull of her essence.
“Oh—” She gasps. Her back arches, pressing closer to me. “That’s—it’s—”
“Good?” I murmur.
Her hand comes to rest on my waist, gripping my bodice. “Yes,” she moans. The sound goes straight through me, and I have to force myself to maintain control and take only what I intended.
But the feeding is as good for me as it is for her, and I let my eyes flutter closed as I drink in her sweet, pure essence.
“Julia,” she whimpers, and hearing my name on her lips like that nearly undoes me.
I drink in just a taste—enough to make her dizzy, but not enough to hurt her. When I pull back, she makes a sound of protest, her fingers tightening on my waist to keep me close.
“Finished,” I say, extracting myself.
She groans and lets herself flop back onto my bed, boneless, her lips parted as she catches her breath. She looks at me with stars in her eyes.
“That was divine,” she whispers. “Can we continue?”
And there it is: that dangerous question that should make me refuse.
Instead, I smile down at her, this beautiful woman who’s splayed on my bed with a dazed look on her face. “Tomorrow night.”
I’m Rebecca again, confronting Charlotte in our bedroom.
“You have been slipping out every night for a fortnight.” I grab her wrist as she tries to leave. “Where do you go?”
Her wrist is so thin beneath my fingers that I pause, studying it. Her bones are protruding, and her skin is so pale I can see blue veins.
Charlotte notices my gaze and wrenches free. “That doesn’t concern you.”
“You are my sister. It is very much my concern. Charlotte, you look ill—”
“I am perfectly well.” But dark circles have formed under her eyes, which are wide and feverish.
“Please. Whatever this is, it’s harming you.”
“You don’t understand.” She clenches her fists. “For the first time in my life, I feel truly alive. I feel powerful. I feel—”
“Drained,” I finish. And then the pieces click together—her nightly absences, her weakening state, the way she smells faintly of cinnamon and… “Oh God. Sanguine magic.”
Her silence is answer enough. The truth hits me like a slap, forcing me back a step. Then fury hits me, hot and ferocious.
Julia.How dare she.
“Charlotte, no. Sanguine witches feed on life force. You are not experiencing magic, you are giving Julia your life—”
“I know what I’m doing!”
“Do you? Look at yourself!” I drag her to the mirror. “You’re wasting away. You can scarcely stand—”
“I don’t care.” She meets my eyes in the reflection, defiant. “Being with her is worth it.”
