I’m not sure if I should be horrified about this or… no. Actually, horrified is the only appropriate response to what he just said. “What if you…” I can’t finish. I don’t want to have this conversation and I’m instantly sorry for asking the question.
“What if I kill you?”
I shrug up one shoulder. Might as well get the answer to this now, rather than later. “What if?”
He forces himself to sit up straighter and open his eyes wider, looking at me. “I don’t think that’s how your death works, Syrsee. Maybe, before you fed me, you could die like other people. But now?” He shakes his head. “You need the long drink. That’s when you feed on me, and then I feed on you, and we pass the blood back and forth until…” He gives up on the explanation. “It’s not an easy thing to do. It’s not quick, either.”
My head turns away from him automatically. I don’t mean to do it, but I’m glad it happens. Because I don’t want him tosee the look on my face. I can’t hide it anymore. I can’t hide the resentment and the horror.
I don’t want to resent this. I don’t. I like Ryet. I don’t want to be anywhere else right now. I want to be with him.
But how will this relationship ever be about anything other thanhisneeds?
We will stay together. But it won’t have anything to do with liking each other, let alone loving each other one day. We will stay together because of my blood and there is no way to change that.
I resent that I am the only way he gets to stay alive and I resent that I am nothing but a hen to him. Feeding him eggs. Until one day, I’m too old to do that. And on that day, he will give me something called the long drink. And that’s when I will be released.
That’s when I will go to Hell.
