“What—whywould I do that?”
I’d pressed forward without realizing, and at the same time Raphael shifted upright. The motion caused sharp friction between us, and I hissed in a breath at the contact.
I was straddling Raphael, and he was . . . affected.
I needed to get off him, immediately.
Only, that wasn’t possible with his hands holding me at bay. “You can let me go.”
Raphael hesitated, then his grip eased. I scrambled over to my side of the bed with the grace of a two-day-old ogre. As if I needed to complete the mortification. My clothing was askew—the shirt I’d pilfered had fallen off, so all I had was the nightgown, which had ridden up through the night. I tugged it down and reached behind my pillow to grab the black sleeves peeking out and slipped the shirt back on.
Raphael didn’t look nearly as distressed as I felt now. He was, objectively, in worse shape—torn shirt, hair at least as bad as mine—but he was simply curved on his side, propped up on an elbow as he looked at me.
“You were thirsty, so in your sleep you instinctively tried to quench that thirst. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
I scoffed in disbelief. “Ashamed? That doesn’t begin to cover it.I attacked you. You promised I’d be safe, but I’m the one who attackedyou.”
And I’d been entirely unaware of it. If he hadn’t woken up, I would’ve bitten him. Hurt him. And never known.
These monstrous instincts . . . was I any different from the vampire who had ripped apart my mother? How long had they been starving? I dug my nails into my palms, trying to calm the racing thoughts, but they just kept coming. I was no different from the monsters. Not at all.
“Calm down. It’s an attack I would’ve enjoyed, if I didn’t think you’d hate me even more for it after.”
I cut him a sharp look. Raphael’s gaze was steady, even. “Don’t say things like that.”
Raphael sat up. “We should have addressed this days ago. I didn’t want to press you. As your sire, I’ve failed you, and for that, I’m sorry.”
Mysire. Like he owned me. “Don’t call yourself that.”
“Avoiding specific words doesn’t change the facts,” he countered. “You can drink my blood. You probably should be for the entire duration we’re here. It’ll help with the thirst.”
“I’m—” But the wordfinewouldn’t pass my lips, and the silence stretched between us.
Raphael reached out, fixing the collar of my shirt. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. The thirst is natural. Besides, you agreed to live like a vampire while we’re here.”
“Ihavebeen drinking.” They didn’t provide a lot of blood, but what was available I swallowed promptly.
“And yet it clearly doesn’t work. If you’re this thirsty, you may try to drink from someone else.”
Anxiety pressed in on all sides. “That’s different. I did this in my sleep—I didn’t mean to.”
“This time.” Raphael said the words evenly, but they crashed into me. What if I attacked someone? Ripped into their neck because I was sick of the cold, bottled blood and needed something more potent? Like Thea. Witch blood was known to be potent—what if I hurt another witch?
My gut twisted. “You’re using my fears against me.”
“It’s not an uncommon fear, hurting someone after turning.” He managed to sound so rational, like it was no less common than being worried about bumping a baby’s head.
“Does it often happen?”
I wanted him to sayno, but I read the answer in the flash of sadness that slid over Raphael’s face. “It can, especially shortly after turning.”
Unable to stay in the bed any longer, I got up. I needed distance to think.Shortly after turning. I fled to the washroom and splashed water in my face.
Distance. I needed distance. Not that I could go far. I was still tethered to him through that same bond. The one that kept me here.
Raphael followed me to the bathroom, now with a fresh shirt, his shoulder pressed against the doorframe while I tried to untangle the nest of white strands atop my head. It started with gentle pulls of my fingers, but before long I was yanking at the knots with frustration.
Everything’s a mess. My hair. My instincts.
