Riley pulled back and held out her hand. “No. See my nail beds? They’re sort of gray. That’s from the heavy metal poisoning. The few times I tried dialysis, they turned pink for a couple of days. It just didn’t last.”
Declan’s brow furrowed. “Will you come with me? I would like to try something.”
He sounded so sincere, so desperate to help, that Riley couldn’t say no. “Okay. Just for a few minutes.”
In the space of two breaths, she in his arms and back in his basement, in a lavish sitting room with a flatscreen television, wet bar, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Declan eased her into a plush, leather recliner, and then knelt next to her. “You will need to trust me, Riley. I will not glamour you. Nor will I lie to you.”
“You’re scaring me,” she said quietly.
He took her hand and laid it over his heart. “Do you feel this?”
“What? I don’t feel anything.” No heartbeat. No rise and fall of his chest. No warmth.
“I do not need to breathe. My heart…it only beats when I wish it to. Saving you…healing you…” Under her palm, she felt a single thump. Then another. They were slow. Deliberate. Almost as if he were focusing on each one. “I forced it to beat for you. And I remembered my life. The preciousness of it. There is nothing I would not do to ensure you retain yours for as long as possible. Do you believe me?”
Riley held his gaze, staring into his black eyes, and though she knew she shouldn’t trust him, she did. Completely. “I do.”
He licked his lips. “Then,” he said and bared sharp, white fangs only a breath away from her wrist, “will you try to drink from me once more?”
