“Does everyone here speak to people as though they’re stupid?”
“Mostly Rhen.”
That surprised a brief, unwilling breath from her before suspicion returned.
Dax crossed to the small table beside the bed and placed both bags upon it. He did not approach her or sit on the mattress. Instead, he took the chair near the hearth and positioned it far enough away that she could reach the door without passing him.
“You can drink while I’m here, or I can wait outside,” he said. “That part is your choice.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because you need blood, and because I have seen what happens when a newly turned vampire tries to endure hunger through stubbornness.”
Veya continued watching him.
“Did Rhen send you?”
“No.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
“Probably not.”
“Then he’ll be angry.”
“Rhen is angry when the weather changes.”
The corner of her mouth moved before she caught it.
Dax leaned back in the chair, allowing the silence to settle without pressing her.
Veya eventually reached for the nearest bag. She held it between both hands, staring at the dark liquid through the plastic.
“I hate this.”
“I imagine you do.”
“You don’t sound very sympathetic.”
“I’m trying not to insult you by pretending it should be easy.”
Her gaze rose to his.
For the first time, some of the defensive tension left her face.
Dax nodded toward the bag.
“It will take the edge off. Nothing more complicated than that.”
Veya opened the seal with hands that trembled despite her effort to steady them. She hesitated before bringing it to her mouth.
Dax looked toward the fire rather than watching her.
The plastic shifted softly as she drank.
Her reaction moved through the tethered, altered body almost immediately. The rigidity in her shoulders loosened, and the shaking in her hands began to ease. Her breathing remained an unnecessary habit, but it stopped catching with the force of suppressed panic.
She drank again, more slowly and with greater control.
