Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
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 to see 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 than his needs?
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.
3 - Ryet
All the way over.
It is decidedly unfair. I understand this. I’m not a mind reader, but I don’t need to be. It’s very clear that this relationship Syrsee and I have is unbalanced and one-sided. Not because I don’t like her—I do. But she will never believe that my feelings for her have nothing to do with the blood.
I’m not even going to try to convince her that this is the case, even though it is. Because if I were her, I wouldn’t believe me either.
I need her. Not in a traditional lovesick way. I physically need her to… well, I don’t really know what would happen to me if I stopped drinking, but I imagine it’s not really up to me if it gets to that point. I imagine that it would be instincts. I imagine I would hunt her, then put her in a prison that I would call a bedroom, and then I’d feed on her for the rest of her life.
This is what Paul did.
And I’m becoming Paul.
Maybe not in the literal sense. But I am becoming a vampire. I can feel the fucking wings on my back. The sharp bones pushing against my skin. Soon, they will break through that skin and once that happens there will be no way for either of us to deny what’s going on here.
It’s easy to pretend we’re still those people we were a couple weeks ago when we were in White River. Bantering, smiling, eating food, making plans.
But we’re not those people. Me, for sure. Obviously.
But her too. She has changed as well. She hasn’t told me about it, but I can taste the magic inside her. Something is different. And it’s changing. Every time I feed, I taste something new in her.
Syrsee has already wriggled out of my lap and positioned herself across to the other end of the couch. She stretches her long legs out, her feet pressing against the side of my thigh. Touching me from a distance.
I don’t want to look at her face. I’m afraid of what I’ll see there. But it’s better to just confront it now. Better to get it over with so we can try to move on.
My head turns in her direction, but my eyes take another moment to catch up. When we finally look at each other, she looks as conflicted as I do. “I know what you’re thinking,” I say.
Syrsee doesn’t say anything, just slowly shakes her head. Then gets up and walks over to the window.
I get up and follow her. Stand directly behind her. “You’re thinking… He needs me now. And there is no way I could ever trust him.”
“Ryet—” She turns to face me.
But I put up a hand to stop her. “It’s normal. I mean, if I was the food and you were the monster, I’d resent you too.”
She bites her lip and frowns. “I don’t want to feel this way about you. I like you.”
“I like you too. And not just because I need your blood. We were… hitting it off, right? Before all this vampire shit happened?”
She nods. “We were.”
“It doesn’t have to change.” She doesn’t believe me. Hell, I don’t even believe me. But I push on, anyway. “That should be our goal, Syrsee.”
She raises one eyebrow at me. “To… convince each other we’re in love?”
“No.” I let out a frustrated breath. “Not in love. I mean, I like you. But I don’t know if I love you. And you definitely don’t love me. I don’t want to pretend. I want you to believe me about this part especially. I don’t want to pretend. I want it to be easy.”
“Which part, Ryet? The part where you drink me a dozen times a day?”