“Youwiped your mouthand said you felt ‘restored.’ That’s not the same as an apology.”
He exhaled, which I was starting to learn was his version of rolling his eyes.
Ten minutes later, I had a bowl of popcorn, a bottle of rosé, and a very large, very skeptical vampire sitting on the couch.
We’d compromised—meaning, I’d forced him to watchWhile You Were Sleeping.
“It’s one of my favorites,” I told him as the opening credits rolled. “Sandra Bullock is an angel, and you’re about to learn about human decency through the power of nineties cinema.”
For the first twenty minutes, he was remarkably well-behaved—stoic, curious, asking occasional questions like, “Why is that man unconscious?” and “Does she intend to wed him in this condition?”
It was almost nice. Safe, even.
But every time the heroine smiled, every time Cristian shifted beside me, my brain kept flashing back to the Instacart guy standing dazed on the porch. The casual way Cristian had fed. The sound he’d made after.
It was driving me crazy.
I paused the movie.
Cristian turned to me. “Did I offend?”
“No,” I said, picking at a loose thread on my blanket. “I just… can we talk about something?”
He looked cautious. “If you wish.”
“I’ve been thinking about earlier. About what it’s like when you… feed.”
His expression sharpened, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I saw it,” I continued. “And after seeing it—and knowing you’re full now—it doesn’t sound as terrifying as it did before. I mean, I still don’t love the idea, but…” I took a breath. “I think I’m considering letting you drink from me. Maybe.”
Cristian went very still. “You would allow it?”
“I saidmaybe.” I raised a hand before he could start reciting vows or something. “But first, I have questions.”
“Of course.”
“Is it going to hurt?”
He shook his head. “No. In fact, it will feel pleasant.”
I snorted. “You’re going to have to define ‘pleasant.’”
His gaze flicked to my throat, then away again. “My bite triggers a response in the prey—relaxation, euphoria. I am a predator, Nadia. My biology is designed to calm what I hunt.”
“That sounds wildly manipulative.”
“It is instinct, not deceit.”
I looked down at my hands. “Okay. Next question. Will I feel weak afterward?”
“For a moment,” he admitted. “Like standing too quickly. But I would never take enough to harm you.”
“And will your fangs leave a mark?”
“Briefly. I can heal them if you wish. No one would see.”
I chewed my lip. “Does it have to be my neck?”
