Page 47 of Blood on the Tide

Of course not. Of course I had no idea that things would spiral to that level. But if she’d told me that was a possibility, I don’t know that I would have cared. I was too far gone—just like she was. If I was anyone else, I could have hurt her.

Maybe I... did hurt her.

I stare at Lizzie, taking in the sharp little movements that she makes as she fidgets, the lines bracketing her mouth that haven’t gone away even though I’m feeling closer to my old self than ever. How many times today have I thought about the fact that I hardly recognize her like this? It took two of us to get to that point. She ignored that she was taking too much, and I ignored that she was emotionally fragile in the first place.

I clear my throat. “I’m sorry.”

She jolts hard enough to rattle our cups on the table. “What do you have to apologize for?”

“If I hadn’t climbed in the tub with you while you were off-center because of what had happened with the water horse, I don’t think you would’ve lost control like that. I worried you. More than that, I worried you when you were already in an emotionally vulnerable place.”

“You’re wrong.” She narrows her eyes. “This is something that happens with bloodline vampires from time to time. Biting you feels almost as good as it does to be bitten by me. Sometimes we forget ourselves. Sometimes we hurt people.”

I know I should be horrified that she’s hurt people, but I’m more concerned with how defeated she seems. “You wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.”

Her mouth flattens. “I did hurt you. Intent matters less than the results. You almost died. It won’t happen again.”

“But what if I want it to?” The question’s out before I can call it back, and I wouldn’t anyways. “As I said before, it took two of us to get in that situation, and I think it’s more than fair that the two of us come to a decision about how we move forward.”

She plants her hands on the table. “You can make all the statements you want, Maeve.” She speaks slowly, each word enunciated clearly. “But ultimately it doesn’t matter if it took two of us to get to that point or if I am solely responsible, because I almost killed you and I will not do it again. You can make your own choices with your safety and health, but you can’t force me to bite you.”

I want to keep arguing, but it’s coming from a selfish place. We had finally reached a point where it felt good to be there. With her in my bed, comfortable enough to do all the things that we both wanted to do. To have newly created distance between us feels wrong. It’s only a matter of time before she returns to her realm; I don’t want to lose another minute with Lizzie.

If she harmed me, then I harmed her right back. The evidence of it has already been cataloged. If I was a better person, I would allow her to retreat instead of clinging to her with all my strength. A month ago, I would have said I was a better person. It turns out... I’m not. “What if we compromise?”

She glares at me. “If you’re about to suggest that I bite you—”

“I want that, but I understand if you’re not ready for it.” I keep talking, even when she’s obviously about to protest that she’ll never be ready. I desperately don’t want her to say those words out loud, because then they might be true.

I want Lizzie, with or without her bite. If that means that I have to sit by while other people orgasm as a result... it hurts to think about, but she’s not mine. More than that, if she was, I would be a terrible partner to demand that she starve herself to appease my jealousy. “Do you still want me?”

“What kind of question is that? Yes, I still want you. That’s what got us into this situation to begin with.”

Relief makes my shoulders sag for a moment. Hearing her confirm her desire comforts the part of me that’s been on edge since I woke up. Lizzie may be a lot of things, but she’s not a liar. I can trust her when she tells me she wants me. I want to trust her. “I still want you, too. You need to eat, and if you won’t bite me, then you need to pick someone else.”

She watches me closely, as if sensing a trap and not being able to define the parameters of it. “You’re okay with that? With me biting someone else?”

No. Yes. I don’t know. I want to be okay with it if my approval is what she needs. We have such a short time together, and we’ve already wasted days of it with this nonsense. Granted, I don’t think Lizzie would qualify it as such, but I’m not in the mood to admit she might be right.

“I have no claim on you,” I finally say, but the words are stilted and wrong.

Lizzie leans forward, expression intent. “Do you want a claim on me?”

Does she understand what she’s asking? The implications? Of course I want a claim on her. I haven’t known her nearly long enough to justify the strength of my feelings, but I want her at my side in whatever way I can manage, for as long as I can manage. “You’re leaving. You were always going to leave.”

“Yes,” she says slowly. “But there’s not a deadline in place. It could be weeks—or months or years. Threshold is large enough to lose a ship for that long and longer. I’m bound to find those family heirlooms and return them to their proper place, but I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves if we start acting like I’m going home tomorrow.”

Every bit of that statement is full of contradictions. She almost sounds like she doesn’t want to find the Crimson Hag at all, but that can’t possibly be right. Her only goal since arriving on Threshold has been reclaiming the jewels stolen from her.

She might care for me—and her reaction to taking too much blood cannot be construed as anything other than caring—but I have no illusions about what that means. She cared for Evelyn, too, and she still chased her across the realms with the intent to kill her and retrieve the stolen items. I can’t count on Lizzie’s caring being enough to combat the loyalty she feels to her family, no matter how toxic they seem from the little bits she’s shared.

I would be a fool to read into her words for anything other than what she intends. Which is to leave. No matter what she says, it won’t take years to find the Crimson Hag. If we’re not able to track them down in the next week or two, then we’ll travel to Lyari and wait for them there. All of the Cwn Annwn are required to stop in at some point during the year to report to the Council. Even if we missed the Crimson Hag when we initially arrived, it would be less than a year before they returned—sooner if the Council had reason to summon them.

But I don’t say any of that out loud.

Lizzie’s fingers twitch as if she wants to reach for my hand but stops herself. “Do you want a claim on me, Maeve?” she asks again.

Some long-buried instinct demands that I do anything to avoid baring even a portion of my heart to this woman, who’s destined to break it. But I’ve never been a coward, and I won’t start now. No matter the consequences. I tell the truth. “Yes.”

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