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I blink up at him, shocked that I never considered that. I always just assumed that all vampires drank until they drained their victims of life. The Department told me as much.
My earlier anger is rekindled when I think of the Department and my parents' death. Henry is a bloodsucker. I can't trust a word he says. The Department confirmed he's the vampire who killed my parents, and by god, I will get my revenge.
I snort and yank myself out of his grasp. I don't fool myself that I was actually strong enough to break the vampire's hold. It was more like I shocked him with my movements, so he released me.
Still, my head is already feeling clearer with the few steps of distance I've put between us. "Even if that is true," I spit at him, "you certainly didn't offer that courtesy to my parents when you ripped their throats out."
Pain claws at me as the memory of my parent's bloodied bodies on the floor grips at my mind.
Henry's brows pull down in confusion, but I'm beyond giving him the benefit of the doubt. He's a monster, and monsters will do and say anything to wreck confusion. He's just trying to trip me up. He's probably having fun toying with me.
Did he do the same with my parents? Did he taunt them before he ripped their lives from them? The thought sends a feral scream clawing up my throat, and before I can think my actions through, I'm launching myself at Henry with no weapon other than my bare hands, nothing but the pain in my heart driving me to near madness.
* * *
Henry
My eyes widen when Britney suddenly launches herself at me. She's clawing at me like a little hellcat, her nails tearing at my clothes and raking at my skin. She draws blood, but my wounds instantly heal themselves. Her eyes go wide and even more feral when she sees that, and a tortured sob that goes straight to my soul breaks forth from her beautiful lips.
She's lashing out at me—wrongly I might add for I know I didn't kill her parents, whoever they were, because of the simple fact that I haven't drained a human of life for at least a century. I finally mastered the art of taking my sustenance without killing my prey, so even if I did feed from her parents, I know I didn't kill them.
But for some reason, Britney thinks I did, and while another vampire might become angry at her irrational attempts on their life, I can't ignore her pain.
So, when another strangled sob escapes her chest and her wide eyes look up at me brimming with the tears of a broken, shattered soul, I can’t fight the instinct to comfort her.
I pull her into my arms again, holding her head close to my chest, though this time I’m not holding her to assuage my own lust and desire but to calm her and offer whatever reassurance I can that I understand her pain.
That doesn’t mean that I still don’t savor the feeling of her tiny form in my arms, though.
As soon as her cheek meets my chest, the damn breaks free, and her entire body is wracked with sobs.
She’s suddenly clinging to me, her little hands clutching at my shirt as she buries her face in my chest, her tears soaking through the thin fabric of my shirt to wet my skin with their sweetness.
And god, I truly am a monster for while I want to comfort her, I also have the overwhelming urge to taste those tears.
I don’t speak. I know no empty platitudes will take away her pain. Instead, I merely stroke her hair like I would a frightened kitten while she weeps in my arms.
She cries for so long I can’t help wondering if she’s ever allowed herself to grieve for her parents before.
I’m also wondering just what happened to them and why she’s under the impression I’m the one who did it.
Those are questions I’ll get the answers to in due time, though.
Now, this precious angel is taking comfort inmeof all creatures, and while I realize it might simply be because I’m the nearest breathing thing near her, my chest still swells with pride that I might be able to soothe her somewhat.
The shaking in her shoulders finally starts to subside, and she quiets.
She stays with her head pressed against my chest for a long while after she’s quieted. I think she’s embarrassed that she lost control and is hesitant to show her face after seeking solace from the very monster she believes murdered her folks.
"I promise you, Britney," I tell her softly, willing her to believe me, "Ididn't murder your parents."
She sniffs and finally pulls back from me, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes that are somehow made even more luminous and beautiful with their tear stains. "But how can you possibly know that? You don't even know who they are or what they looked like. How do you know they weren't one of your…your…" she stumbles over the words.
I don't supply her with the word she's looking for. Instead, I hold her gaze with my own as I answer her evenly. "Because I haven't taken a mortal life in over a century."
Her eyes go almost comically wide. "You haven't?" she asks me uncertainly, chewing on her bottom lip now.
I'm never one to lose control. I like to think that over the last century I've completely mastered the art of self-control, but seeing this little blond angel worrying that puffy pink lip between her teeth has me gripping the back of the chair to keep myself from hauling her into my arms again and biting that plump lip myself.
