His hand shifted from her cheek to her hair, where he played with the ends.
“I don’t feed on intelligent beings anymore. I try to feed on animals. The taste is gamey and not to my liking, but it staves the hunger.”
Tavia wanted to believe him, but how could she?
“I can’t be a part of this,” she said, shaking her head and stepping away from him. “I should never have agreed to this. I should go home.”
“I won’t force you into this,” Lucius said. “If you want to leave, go. But you only get the other coin purse if you stay.”
Tavia turned away from him, going toward the window, needing fresh air to clear her hazy thoughts.
What was she doing?
He pretended to be normal—cooking with her, eating with her, playing house. Was she that lonely that this is what she fell into?
She stared out the window, wondering what she should do. She could go home, at least with this coin, and she believed Lucius would stay true to his word.
But she was one coin purse away from changing her destiny.
She heard Lucius leave the bedroom, and then she heard running water.
She went into the washroom, and Lucius stood over the tub, an arm full of the crystal bottles, pouring them down the drain.
The blood pooled with the water, spiraling down.
“What are you doing?” Tavia asked.
Lucius’s eyes were bright red, and his strained expression revealed how difficult it was for him to be around so much blood.
“Proving to you that I’m not who you think I am,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Tavia walked over and plucked one of the bottles out. She dumped it out with him.
They spent the next hour draining every bottle until it became too much, and Lucius had to excuse himself.
Tavia washed her hands, took soap, and ensured no drop of blood was left in the tub. When the washroom was clean, she sprayed some of the perfume she found in the cabinet around, hoping to lessen the scent of blood in the air.
When she walked out, Lucius was sitting on thecouch, hands digging into his knees, his body completely rigid.
She walked over to him.
“Hey,” she said. “Are you all right?”
She knelt on the fur rug right in front of him.
“Just need a moment,” he said.
She placed her hand on top of his, and he looked at her with a pained expression.
“It’s best if you keep your distance,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” she said confidently.
“No,” he replied. “I don’t want to hurt you at all. But I want to do something else.”
Her face warmed at his admission, and she took her hand away. Not knowing what to do, she stood and went to the kitchen.
“Do vampyres drink tea?” she asked.
