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“I won’t hurt you,” he began in a soft, reassuring tone. As a vampire, he could easily shift, sometimes change entirely, the emotions felt by another. Their kind were well versed in mental powers.
She released what could only be termed a loud snort, and promptly shook her head. “Yeah, okay, I believe you.”
Shock made his eyes widen before he narrowed them on her. Why wasn’t she calming down? He easily entered her mind, and whispered words meant to relax. The tension in her shoulders eased, but she held fast to the vase.
“My name is Lucian Thormidor. You’re in my home.”
Drusilla seemed to take that information quickly. She nodded, swallowing even as she tried to shake off her fear. “Okay. What am I doing here, and how do you know me?”
“I saved you,” he began slowly, continuing when her brows lifted. “You were near death, and I healed you. You’re in my house because you are recovering.”
“Healed me?” she repeated. Her mind reeled, searching for memories of a possible injury she’d sustained. She found nothing, as Lucian knew would happen. He didn’t know how much Drusilla remembered of her previous life—he hoped very little—but she would remember nothing of her change. None of the changelings did.
“Are you a doctor?” she continued, looking around the large bedroom as if searching for something that would answer her question. When she found nothing, her gaze moved back to him. “Is that why I’m here?”
Lucian considered lying before deciding against it. She would learn the truth soon. He hadn’t fed her in almost a day, and as a new vampire, she would be growing hungry soon.
“Don’t you want to put the vase down?” he asked instead, using his powers of persuasion on her.
She nodded, and was moving over to the vanity to replace the vase, when she stopped and shook her head, clutching it even tighter in her grip.
“You were just in my head. No, that’s not possible. What are you?” she whispered frantically, stepping back until she was pressed against the wall once more.
Strange, Lucian thought, watching her cower away from him. Most of the changelings could not determine which were their thoughts, and which were their creators’ persuasion, especially so soon after the change.
“Drusilla….”
“Is that my name?”
He nodded once and she frowned as if trying to remember it. He touched her mind once more. She was testing the name in her memory, searching for something to confirm it.
“I have promised not to hurt you,” he began easily, lowering his hand slowly. Her gaze followed it, before lifting to his eyes once more. “You’re as much a part of me as I am of you.”
“What do you mean?” she rushed out.
“You are a vampire, Drusilla, and I am the one who created you.”
***
Her name was Drusilla, and she was in a room with a man who thought they were both vampires. Her memories were scattered, and she could barely focus on anything, but of two things she was quite certain. The man before her, while extremely attractive with his midnight-black hair, blue eyes, and perfect, aristocratic features, was insane. And she was trapped in a room with him.
As she looked around for any escape routes, she noticed he was smiling. That didn’t surprise her in the least. Hot or not, the man belonged in a loony ward. Her heart plummeted upon realizing that while the room had windows, there was something covering them. The outlines of the windows were visible, but she could not see the glass due to some sort of thick—was that steel?—venetian blind. Even if she got to the window, she doubted that she could get past that thing.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked softly, taking a small step forward.
Eyes widening, she lifted the vase. “Stay back!”
He dipped his head, and retracted the step. “Very well. I’ll prove it to you.”
She tensed her stance, waiting for some sort of attack, but none came. Instead of rushing her and trying to bite her neck, as she feared he would, he lifted one hand, and rolled up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. And then he presented his wrist to her.
“What are you doing?” Drew demanded, ignoring the sudden dryness in the back of her throat. She looked behind him to the partially opened door. If she could get around him….
Lucian lifted his other hand, and she watched in horror and fascination as the nail on his left index finger lengthened and grew pointed. She squeezed her eyes shut, and then opened them again. No, the nail was still there, looking positively wicked.
“Okay, fine. Maybe you are a vampire, and I feel fine now. Thanks for helping me. I’m just going to leave now….”
