“Moreyou.”
She stands in front of me now, her scent so overpowering that it almost takes me to my knees. “And would that be such a bad thing?”
I tell her the truth, the first thing that comes to mind. “I don’t know.”
She tips her head, studying me. “Are you afraid of finding out?”
There’s no point in pretending otherwise, in lying to myself or to her.
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
She seems to contemplate this. “But if I asked you to, not because I’m being impulsive, but because I’m being intentional, would you do it?”
My fangs are producing even more venom now. I swallow down the sharp, bitter flavor. It burns my dry throat.
There’s only one answer I can give her, at least for now.
“I would consider it.”
I can hardly believe the words that leave my mouth. But Maeve is a force of nature, a type of magic I have no defenses against.
She continues to stare at me, likely trying to find the truth behind my eyes. But this is the truth. There’s nothing left to lay bare.
“All right,” she says, giving me a resolute nod. She takes a step back and centers herself, preparing her fighting stance. “Then keep teaching me how to move.”
This time, her body looks looser, softer. But still coiled with power. And when she lifts her blade, a thin thread of lightning dances along it from hilt to tip, crackling against the stillness of the starlit night.
And I feel a tiny spark of pride, of fear, of absolute devotion to this wild woman.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Maeve whispers as I lift my sword to kiss hers.
“I know,” I say.
That’s precisely the problem.
BACK IN MY STAFF APARTMENT, long after Maeve left me on the spire, I’m still thinking of her, of that question she whispered into the autumn air.
If I were to ask you to feed on me... would you?
I lift my flask to my lips, taking a deep swig of the blood I got last time I was at the blood bank. I’ll need to go back again soon.
Without meaning to, I start to imagine Maeve’s smooth pale skin beneath my mouth. How my fangs would slip through that skin, injecting venom into her veins. And that first taste.
A small tremble goes down my spine, lifting the hair on my neck and making me tighten my fingers around my flask.
I’ve fed from live veins hundreds upon hundreds of times. It used to be theonlyway I’d feed. But it’s been years since my fangs tasted fresh lifeblood. And it’s been many decades since I last wanted someone this desperately.
If ever.
With Maeve, everything feels different, new, like I haven’t lived three centuries and am running through the same monotony day in and day out. And though I thirst for her with every fiber of my being, there’s something deeper running beneath that animal instinct. There’s a curiosity I feel toward her, an excitement that had long since dulled in my chest before I met her. I get anxious to see her, and when she’s near me, I feel...
Alive.
Like she’s my spring after an endless winter spent in the underworld.
I lift my flask to my lips again and drain it into my mouth, then set it on the side table and push up from my armchair. Stalking to the window, I pull the heavy drape aside and let the moonlight in. The sky is still clear, still starlit, and I recall the way the light illuminated Maeve’s stormy eyes.
Another tingle goes down my spine. My whole body reacts to her, to even the thought of her.
