Page 81 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

But for now, all I felt was rage.

“You think sorry is going to fix this?” I deposited the half-eaten donut on the plate, wiping my fingers on a napkin. “You think you can just…what…bake me some sweets, utter an apology, and expect me to be all better?”

“No.” His fists clenched against his jean-clad legs.

I stuffed my trembling hands between my thighs. Trembling, because I was so fucking relieved. Relieved to feel something other than terror in his presence, or the hollowness that had coated my every emotion.

“Tell me what to do,” he croaked. The desperation in his voice caught me off guard. He sounded nothing like the cold vampire who so easily handed me to the witches. But it wasn’t enough to soften me.

“I’m not your keeper,” I spat. “I’m not your mommy, Laurent. It’s not my job to tell you what to do, how to behave, how to fix this.”

I expected him to react, to get angry. I wanted him to get angry. To lash out, show me the monster in him. To behave the way he was capable of, putting us back on common ground.

Instead, he scrubbed a hand over his face looking…tired. “Vittorio said something similar.”

“Yeah? Well, he knows what he’s talking about.”

Silence stretched out between us. Laurent dropped my gaze, his eyes going unfocused on the opposite wall. His breathing stopped. Seconds ticked by. He sat unmoving—once more made of stone. My racing heart began to slow.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, to the wall this time. “The words you said, when they…when they took you, have replayed in my mind. Do you remember what they were?”

“Yes,” I scoffed. “I begged you. I fucking begged you, Laurent.”

His muscles bunched. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Lily. You told me you would never give it, and I don’t want you to. If you had lived as long as I have…and I pray you never do…you learn that some things are too monstrous for forgiveness. That atonement only goes so far, and that there are some things for which atonement can never fix.” He continued staring at the wall.

He wasn’t talking about the witches anymore. Something in me softened, even if I didn’t want to. I’d seen so many of his memories, and I had a feeling he carried many more that I hadn’t. But I knew enough to know he carried regret, even if he acted otherwise. “The things you’ve done…”

This time, his head turned toward me. Slowly. So slowly it was almost creepy.

“I wish you had not seen any of that, little flower. That my monstrousness did not taint your beautiful mind. You must understand—I needed to save you.” The admission came out hushed. “I am sorry for that, too. For the parts of me you have seen. Parts that no one should see. I have never shared my blood with another in such a way.”

My lips parted. “You haven’t?”

“No. It is very dangerous—sharing secrets. You would be the only person alive who truly knows me. I do not know what you have seen, what awful parts I gave you. If you believed me monstrous before, you will surely know that it is true now, even if I had not made such a terrible mistake with the witches.”

My voice was a whisper as I said, “Why are you telling me this?”

His gaze darted over my face, searching. “Because there is no end to it. I gave you too much blood and that comes with a cost. It starts as an itch. Cravings and urges. Times of acute awareness.”

“What?!” My fingers went cold.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, turning away from me. Almost as if he couldn’t bear to watch me fall apart.

“Laurent, what… What are you saying?”

“I know you feel it. The craving for my blood.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My every muscle coiled.

“Don’t you? You think your cravings, your urges, are random?”

“I don’t have any…urges.”

But I did. They had only gotten more intense with each day, made worse by sitting next to Laurent this afternoon. It wasn’t just a strange itch, but bouts of hunger that had nothing to do with my stomach. And the pulse between my legs, turning needy and demanding until I was forced to relieve the pressure.

“You may deny it,” Laurent continued, “but I’ve heard you in here at night when you pleasure yourself⁠—“

“What?!” I screeched, mortified.