Page 31 of She Who Was Once the Sea

He shrugged. "I don’t have many non-Fratelli clothes. I don’t want to get blood on this shirt."

I raised an eyebrow. "You could literally die, and you’re worried about your shirt?"

His answering smile was bright but filled with worry. "You have your priorities, and I have mine."

He took half a step towards me, closing the space between us even more. This time, he tilted his head to one side, exposing the flesh of his neck completely. He smelled of sweat and something sweet—perhaps cologne from one of the many shops in the city. It was heady and intoxicating, and it made me sway on my feet.

Again, he reached out and steadied me. "Better get to it," he said gently. "I don’t know how I’d help you if you passed out."

I nodded and leaned forward, inching my mouth towards that little blue vein. When my lips touched his skin, I felt him shudder slightly. It would have been enough to make me pull away, but the monster inside of me had already taken over my conscious mind.

There was no going back.

I opened my mouth wide against his throat, letting my lips drag across his skin before my teeth pierced his flesh.

He gasped beneath my touch, and I thought he might try to pull away. But once I sealed the wound with my mouth and began the long, slow process of dragging blood across my tongue, I felt the tension leave his body. He relaxed into me, exhaling deeply.

There was something different about Garrett’s blood, something that ignited a fire within my own. I’d felt the life-giving quality of blood plenty of times before. But this was like caffeine. It was like a drug. With each deep pull, I felt myself growing stronger and more energized, and felt my eyes widening. The colors in the apartment seemed to vibrate, and dancing lights filled the corners of my vision.

I’d never experienced anything like this before. I never wanted it to stop.

Beneath me, I barely registered that Garrett was no longer standing on his own. I was supporting him with my arms, and he’d grown extremely pale.

"Marella," his voice was so quiet, barely a whisper against my hair. It held no intonation, but it felt like a plea.

Still, I didn’t let him drop.

Somewhere, at the back of my mind, I felt a surge of fear. I wanted to let him go. I needed him to live.

But what is living if I don’t feel like this?

He knew the risk. He knew what could happen and let me drink anyway. If I kept drinking, if I took all he had to offer, perhaps I wouldn’t need him after all. His blood made me believe I could fight the Stone Witch myself. I could force her to let my family go, bargain be damned.

His pulse began to grow fainter.

The decision had been made for me. I felt more of his weight lean into me, felt him slumping and slipping as I continued to lap up as much of him as I could get.

"Marella," he whispered again, this time a prayer. "Marella."

Finally, his breathing grew quiet. I could no longer feel the fluttering of his heart beneath my lips. And suddenly, the absence of him flipped a switch within me.

I gasped, retracting my teeth and pulling away. As I did so, he toppled wholly into me, and the sudden force of his weight nearly knocked me over, despite my newfound strength.

"Garrett," I said, lowering him to the ground softly, so he wouldn’t hit his head. "Garrett!"

His face was pale and gray, his eyelids open only slightly. I watched his pupils dart back and forth, as if searching for some final thread with which to grasp his hold on life.

What had I done?

I felt tears beginning to pour from my eyes as I continued to shout his name, pleading with whatever power could hear me to spare his life.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Frantically, I looked around the room for anything that could help him. The wound on his neck had already knitted back together, but the skin there was still bruised.

There was nothing in this apartment that could heal an exsanguination.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto the floor next to him, letting my tears fall in heaving sobs. I’d killed a lot of people in my centuries as a monster. But none of them had been like him. This man, this sweet, selfless man who’d dedicated his life to protecting strangers in a foreign country and who hadn’t hesitated to offer himself up as a sacrifice…