Only now, I was Death.
“It is difficult at best for a vampire to maintain a relationship with a human,” Helen said softly. “First, there is the problem of time—the human will continue to age, while the vampire will not. Then, there is the problem of discovery. A vampire must conceal her needs from her human lover, lest that person reveal the secret to others. As you can imagine, Valentine, it is imperative for us to remain in hiding. At least, for now.”
She paused, taking in my clenched jaw and listening to my shallow breaths. Her cool hand lingered on mine. “And then there is the problem of thirst. The impulse to feed grows much stronger during intimacy. It is a cycle: sex triggers the urge to drink, and drinking will only sharpen your desire. In a moment of passion, a vampire is quite likely to forget herself. I have…seen it happen.”
I caught her hesitation. She hadn’t just seen it—she had experienced it. She had killed someone. And I could kill Alexa. While we were making love, I could lose control and rip into her. Just like in the dream.
I slumped in my chair, resting my head in my palms. I was a monster. I had been right to fear being close to her. And I wouldn’t continue to endanger her—I wouldn’t.
But how, how was I supposed to let her go?
The car that Helen had arranged for me pulled up to the curb in front of my apartment. I didn’t reach for the handle. Instead, I looked out the tinted windows at the front door, remembering one night over the summer when Alexa and I had been out until the early hours of the morning, drinking at the Niagra after my shift was over. We had stumbled back home, arms wrapped around each other. Starving for her, I’d been unable to wait. While she was fumbling to get her key in the front door, I had pushed her hard against it and kissed her roughly, greedily. I remembered thrusting my tongue into her mouth and groaning at the taste, whiskey over sunshine. I remembered sliding one hand beneath the hem of her tank top, desperate to feel her. We had been so frenzied that a red-painted splinter of wood had dug into her shoulder, pricking her skin. Chagrined, I had apologized—but she had laughed, rubbing out the single drop of blood between her fingers.
Now, I knew, I would be unable to resist its aroma. I would tear into her and gorge myself.
“Ms. Darrow?” said the driver. Helen had instructed him to drop me off, wait for me to “run an errand,” and then take me back to the Consortium’s facility, where I would receive my “full explanation.” I could live there, she had said. For as long as I liked. Certainly, until I had…adjusted.
I couldn’t move. How had everything changed so quickly? Just a few short hours ago, Alexa and I had been on the verge of making love. God, what if we had? What if I had let her take me, only to take her life in return?
“I’m going,” I said roughly. “You’ll stay, right?”
The driver inclined his head. “Of course.”
My hands were trembling so badly that I dropped the key twice before managing to get the front door open. I took the stairs even more slowly than I had that first time after getting out of the hospital. My stomach was turning inside out. I swallowed repeatedly, trying to keep down the bile, which only made my throat throb the worse.
Which was why I was here in the first place.
Once on the landing, I stared hard at the door to our apartment. Doing this was going to destroy me. Alexa was the love of my life, and I would never recover from pushing her away. But she would never survive if I didn’t.
I opened the door. I stepped inside. She was almost exactly where I’d left her—on the couch, surrounded by books. How could everything be the same for her, and completely different for me?
“Val.” She looked up, her expression eager. “How did it go? Did he run more tests?” She set down the book that she was reading and got to her feet. “I missed you so much.”
I didn’t know what to say. My heart was honestly breaking, shattering like a supernova, leaving a perpetual vacuum in its wake. I would be forever thirsty, but not in the way that Helen thought. We’d been planning a trip to Wisconsin—a week-long stay with her family and a side trip to Madison to see her alma mater. I’d never met the Newlands. I wanted them to know how much I loved their daughter—how proud I was to be hers. How dedicated I was to making her happy. Alexa had joked about how bored I’d be in Eau Claire, out in the middle of farm country. But I knew I’d love every second of getting acquainted with her family and her friends. I wanted to know all of her. I wanted to sit next to her mother on the couch, flipping through photo albums and listening to embarrassing childhood stories for hours on end. I wanted to learn exactly how to make Alexa’s favorite meal—pork chops and potato casserole—right down to the gravy that she swore was the best in the nation. I wanted to chat up her brothers and sisters, and invite them out to play tourist in New York. I wanted to curl up with Alexa in her childhood bed and listen to the sounds of the night outside her window and feel the past and present coalesce in us.
Now I’d never get that chance.
Alexa started toward me. I flung up one hand. “Stay away from me.”
Shock forced her to a standstill. “What? What is it?” Anxiety lent an edge to her voice. I held perfectly still, drinking in the sight of her, desperate to imprint her image onto my brain. I would never hold her again. Never feel the soft brush of her lips against mine, or the heat of her hand inside me. Never again would I twine my fingers with hers as we walked down the street, or cook her waffles on Saturday mornings, or bury my face in her fragrant hair to get through the most frightening parts of a horror film. Never again.
But she would be alive.
When she took another step forward, I shook my head and reached behind my back for the doorknob. “No! It isn’t safe.”
“What’s going on, Val?” she pleaded softly. “What did he tell you? What can I do?”
“I’m leaving.” My cheeks were wet. I was crying, and I couldn’t stop. She stood less than ten feet away. It took every ounce of my willpower not to go to her.
“What? That’s ridiculous!” I watched her hands clench into fists as a visible tremor ran through her entire body. “What the hell is happening here?”
Anger only magnified her beauty. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were dark and I wanted to confess, to tell her everything and beg for her help. But I had to be strong. To say whatever it took.
I sucked in a deep breath. “I’m leaving. Things have changed—I’ve changed. I don’t…I don’t want this anymore.”
“You wanted me just fine a few hours ago!” she protested. “Start talking sense, Valen—”
“Stop!” I shouted. “I can’t be with you. I don’t want to be with you! Just let me go, God damn it. You can’t fix this.”
Without waiting to hear her reply, I wrenched open the door and stumbled painfully down the stairs, sobbing in earnest. When I burst out into the late October night, a chill gust of wind blasted me full in the face. I gripped the wrought iron banister to steady myself before limping down to the car. As the front door slowly swung shut behind me, I couldn’t keep myself from listening—but no footsteps pounded down the indoor stairs.
She wasn’t coming after me. I was alone.
I stumbled into the backseat of the car and shut the door. The driver pulled away immediately. I didn’t care that he could hear my choking breaths. I didn’t care about anything. I clutched at my ribs, forcing down more bile. The sad thing, the sick thing, was that even having said everything I could think of to push her away, I still had the gall to feel hurt that she hadn’t pursued me. She had given up so fast. Had barely even tried to argue. What did that mean?
The same city passed before my eyes—the same lights, the same cross streets. But the whole world felt different. Alien. It was a sensation of floating, as though I were barely tethered to reality. When the car stopped at a red light, I watched a couple cross the street, holding hands, probably on their way to dinner. They were laughing. They made it look effortless. Deep inside my chest, my heart ignited, burning even worse than my throat. It would consume itself soon enough, leaving behind only a pile of cold ash. But no phoenix would rise.
I was twenty-six years old. I was going to live forever. An eternity of experiences awaited me, but the only one I wanted was the one I couldn’t have.
My tears had dried by the time the car returned to the Consortium’s office. A wave of fatigue crested over me. I got out of the car wearily and paused for a moment, fixing my gaze on the dark smear of the East River. If I walked into it with stones in my pockets, would I drown? How much of all the stories and legends and movies were true?
How was I going to exist without Alexa in my life?
Slowly, I turned and limped into the lobby, but paused just inside the revolving door. What was I supposed to do now? Should I go up to the receptionist and ask to meet with Helen? That didn’t feel right. Helen clearly held a high rank in this organization and presumably had far better things to do than to continue babysitting me. But when I glanced toward the desk, the receptionist was gone. In her place was a stiff white envelope with my name written in careful block letters. The envelope contained a keycard and a simple note:
Room 719.
Numbly, I took the card and left the rest on the counter.
The seventh floor was completely unlike the third. Its hallway was covered in carpet instead of tile, and the doors on either side were labeled with both names and numbers. Some of them were open, the hum of computers mingling with the low buzz of voices to create a much less creepy atmosphere than the silent hall of the medical floor. Windows were evenly spaced along the wall, looking into rooms of various sizes: a large chamber filled with cubicles, a narrow room with a single desk overlooking a view of the river, a small antechamber that clearly led to a larger office beyond. I wanted to be curious about who worked here and whether they were all…vampires…but I couldn’t find the energy to do more than glance from side to side as I shuffled slowly toward room 719. Going through the motions. I was going to be going through the motions for the rest of my life.
Forever.
Room 719 was a conference room. Helen was there, sitting at a round conference table made out of a very dark and highly polished wood. Her bodyguard was there, too, leaning in yet another corner. A second man sat in the chair next to Helen. He was beautiful, with soft hazel eyes and hair the color of sand. And he was young—in his very early twenties, I was guessing. If that. He was looking at Helen with an expression equal parts adoration and devotion—as though he would walk into the mouth of hell if she asked him to.
I slid my card underneath the scanner and pushed when I heard the click. Remembering how the door had locked behind me last time, I kept my fingers on the handle as it began to close, ensuring that it remained just the tiniest bit ajar. I wanted an out, just in case.
“Welcome back, Valentine,” Helen said. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
I wanted to feel angry that she didn’t so much as spout some sympathetic platitude about the hell that I had just put myself through—the hell that would follow me for the rest of my days. I wanted to be enraged that this was happening to me at all: to feel the desire to lash out, to lay blame, to take some suitably dramatic action like punching through a wall or smashing a window.
But I felt nothing. I was numb.
“This is Kyle,” she said, indicating her companion. She still hadn’t introduced her bodyguard. “I promised you an explanation, and he is here to assist.”
Kyle’s smile, which he trained first on Helen and then on me, was brilliant. “Hello,” I said, extending my hand. He took it in a firm grip. His hand, unlike Helen’s, was warm. Was he a human, then?
Helen gestured for me to sit. “I know that this day has been overwhelming for you,” she said, modulating her husky voice so that it was low and soothing. “There is much to explain—about the parasite, about our history, about how your life will continue to change. Our records here are extensive, and you will have access to every piece of information that you desire.” She turned her attention to Kyle, reaching out to stroke pale fingers through his hair. His eyes closed in pleasure.
“But some things cannot be explained. Some things must be demonstrated.” She looked back at me, but continued the gentle movements of her fingers. “You are suffering from malnutrition, Valentine. I will show you, with Kyle’s help, how to become strong again.”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach as I finally comprehended the reason for Kyle’s purpose. I was supposed to drink from him. To take his blood. My throat pulsed greedily, and I rebelled at the base instinct, mind winning out over body. For now. “No!” I scrambled awkwardly out of the chair and backed toward the door. Thank God I had left it cracked. “No, that’s crazy!”
Kyle pulled away from Helen’s touch, shaking his head. “It isn’t,” he said calmly, beginning to roll up the left sleeve of his shirt. “I want this.”
I stared hard at him, looking for a trace of fear, but as far as I could tell, he was being truthful. He looked eager, not panicked the way he should be. “How?” I whispered. “How can you possibly want me to—”
From the pocket of his jeans, he removed a small, silver knife. I took another step backward. He was going to cut himself? For me?
“I crave the sensation,” he explained as he flicked open the blade. His gaze never left my face. “You may think I’m disgusting, or need help, but it’s not like that.” He looked to Helen. “And the knowledge that I’m nourishing you…it’s a privilege.”
She smiled and caressed his cheek. “Kyle wants to give this to you, Valentine. Will you spurn his gift?”
He was young, but not immature. The certainty, the conviction in his voice both chilled and excited me. He was willing, that much was clear. But had he been compelled, somehow? Enthralled? Could real vampires even do that? I had never felt more ignorant in my life than I did at that moment, facing down a boy who wanted to slice open his veins on my behalf.
“I will show you,” Helen said, taking my silence for assent. Kyle breathed out a sigh, and I watched the color rise in his cheeks. He poised the blade above his skin and smiled at me. And then he brought it down, expertly opening his median cubital vein. Blood welled up instantaneously, but Helen was there to catch every drop. No sooner had the aroma hit the air than her mouth was over the shallow cut. She cradled Kyle’s arm in her hands, cheeks hollowing in a long pull.