I exhaled and picked up another glass to polish.
My hands shook.
They never shook.
"Ye're going to rub the pattern right off that glass."
Killian's voice cut through my concentration. I didn't look up, just set down the tumbler with deliberate care and reached for another. "Just being thorough."
"Ye've reorganized the stock room four times in the past two days." He moved to lean against the bar, his golden eyes sharp. "Alphabetized the receipts. Cleaned the grout between every tile in the bathroom. Twice."
"It needed doing."
"The floors and grout were already clean enough to eat off."
I didn't answer. Because what was I supposed to say? That I'd been spiraling? That every instinct I possessed was screaming at me to go to my little witch, claim her, bind myself to her so completely she could never walk away? That the compulsive cleaning had been the only thing standing between me and doing exactly that?
Control was my religion. Order, my prayer. But the gods I'd been worshipping had failed me the moment her blood had touched my tongue. She had all the power in this relationship. She could walk away at any time and leave me to my fate, which would be a slow, painful death.
Which, honestly, hadn't sounded half bad. At least it would put me out of my fucking misery.
"When's the last time ye fed properly?" Killian asked quietly, interrupting my thoughts.
My jaw tightened. "I'm fine."
His golden eyes sharpened as he studied me closely. He leaned in slightly, inhaling my scent. "There's something different about ye, Elias. Can't quite put my finger on it."
The fucker was playing with me.
"Drop it." I shot him a look, flashing my fangs, but he just watched me with that calculating expression. Like he was piecing together a puzzle.
"Talin came to our home." His Irish lilt carried curiosity more than accusation. "What was it? Two nights ago. In the middle of the night while I was helping Lizzy at her store. Desperate to find ye. All frazzled from trying to use her power without ye. At least, that's what Kenya told me." He paused, watching my reaction. "Was that all it was?"
The question hung between us. He knew damn well what happened that night. He could probably smell her on me right now. Smell her blood running through my veins.
I grabbed another glass, just to have something to do with my hands. "She needed rest is all. Needed to stop tearing herself apart."
After a moment, he nodded. "Aye, I'm sure that's all she needed." The skepticism in his voice was clear. He pushed himself off the bar and moved behind it, reaching for something. "Tell me, Elias. Have ye fed since that night?"
I watched as he pulled something out of the pocket of his sweater and poured it into a glass.
He pushed it across the bar toward me. Blood. Fresh, by the scent. Human. Type O-negative. High quality. The kind that should have made my fangs ache with anticipation.
Instead, my stomach turned.
"Drink it," Killian ordered.
I stared at the glass like it might bite me. "I'm not thirsty."
"Liar. Ye're starving." He gestured to the blood. "Try it. Go on."
With a growl of frustration, I grabbed the glass and brought it to my lips. But the moment the blood touched my tongue, bile rose in my throat. It tasted disgusting. Lifeless. Wrong in every conceivable way.
I slammed the glass down, blood sloshing over the rim, then spit the sip I'd taken into the sink. I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth so I rinsed it out with some water, and it was a moment before I could speak. "Satisfied?"
I didn't confirm anything. Didn't deny it, either. Just stood there, hands braced against the bar as I continued to spit into the sink, feeling exposed in a way I hadn't felt in over a century.
"Christ, Elias." He ran a hand through his hair. "She's the one. Ye drank from Talin." He paused, watching me. "I suspected, of course, because of everything happening between ye and her, but… aye. This changes everything."
