I want to believe him. I do believe him, mostly. But ever since I’ve seen the word Rome, the shadows in my mind whisper doubts.
"I want to try again," I say. "Help me try again."
"How?"
"You said blood can unlock memories. Not maker blood, but you've drunk from me..." I trail off, not sure where the instinct is coming from. "Maybe if you bite me again while I focus, the shared blood could... I don't know. Break through the barriers."
He's quiet for a moment, considering. "It's possible. Sharedblood can create echoes between vampires. But it might also be painful. Forcing locked memories open isn't gentle."
"I don't need gentle. I need answers."
He studies my face, looking for doubt. He won't find any. Whatever's hidden in my mind, I need to know. Even if it hurts.
"Alright." He rises, drawing me up with him. "Come here."
He guides me to the leather couch by the fire, positions me so I'm sitting with my back against his chest. His arms wrap around me, holding me secure. Safe.
"Focus on Rome," he murmurs against my ear. "Let the word fill your mind. Don't push, just hold it there."
I close my eyes. Rome. I think of the word, the shape of it, the sound. Let it expand until it's all I can see in the darkness behind my eyelids.
His lips brush my throat, feather-light. "Now let me in."
His fangs pierce my skin.
The pain is brief, familiar now, immediately replaced by the rush of pleasure that comes with being fed upon by someone you love. I feel the pull of blood leaving my body, feel the intimacy of the connection between us.
And then he goes rigid against me.
His arms lock around me, muscles tensing. A sound escapes him, something between a gasp and a growl. He's seeing something. Through my blood, through whatever connection we share, he's seeing something that isn't in this room.
I wait, heart pounding, as he drinks. His body shudders once. Twice. Then he tears himself away from my throat, sealing the wound with a swipe of his tongue, but his hands are shaking.
"What?" I turn to face him, gripping his arms. "What did you see?"
His eyes are wild. Unfocused. Like he's still half in whatevervision the blood showed him. "Rome," he says hoarsely. "You were in Rome."
The word hits me like a physical blow.Flash.Cobblestones. Rain. Running.
"I saw you running," he continues, voice rough. "Through streets. Old stone. Someone chasing you…"
Flash.My feet slapping against stone, lungs burning. Behind me, footsteps. Faster than mine. Gaining.
"…and then a room. Small, dark. You were bleeding. Someone standing over you…"
Flash. The smell of blood, my blood. A woman's voice, speaking words I can't quite hear. My body won't move. I try to scream, but nothing comes out.
"Valentina," I whisper. The fragments are surfacing now, his words cracking open the locks she placed in my mind. "She was there. She turned me there, not here."
"There was pain." His jaw tightens. "So much pain. I felt it through your blood. What she did to you." He stops, swallows hard. "She was laughing."
Flash.My body remaking itself, dying, and being reborn. The taste of blood in my mouth, not mine. Hers. Valentina's. She's laughing.
I'm shaking now. Can't seem to stop. "What else?"
He hesitates. Whatever he saw next is worse.
"Tell me."
