Page 70 of Bitten Vampire
I just stare at the plate.
“What? Did you think a vampire couldn’t cook? I have human friends,” he says, leaning against the counter, arms and ankles crossed, studying me.
“No, of course not. I’d never question your culinary skills.” I take a small bite. The pancake is perfectly fluffy, but it clings to the roof of my mouth. “This is lovely. Thank you,” I rasp. The pancake is now stuck at the back of my throat. I take a big gulp of orange juice.
“I reviewed the security footage while you showered.”
Talk about multitasking.
Worried I will break the glass, I set it down carefully and try a little bit of fruit.
“Nothing I say can truly express how much I regret what happened today. Not having adequate daytime security put you at risk, but you dealt with the problem and saved my life.”
The piece of strawberry lodges in my throat as fear clamps around it. I cough and lay my fork aside. “Your room must have one of those vault doors. I bet you were perfectly safe.” My leg bounces; my knee knocks the underside of the table, and the plates jump. The orange juice splashes. “They wouldn’t have come if it weren’t for me. The fighting… I did nothing. It was?—”
The orange juice spreads like blood.
I shake my head. “I can’t do this. I can’t lie. I cannot pretend I’m all right. I’m not.” I stand, searching for a cloth. “I need to wipe the table.”
Valdarr is suddenly there, standing in front of me.
“I’m so sorry, Fred. You are in shock. I didn’t think… I’ve been a vampire so long I forget what it’s like to be human and vulnerable.”
“They all died,” I hiccup, the words splintering out of me. “Not just your people, but the assassins. They all died, and there was blood, and Ber—” I choke on her name.
My instincts kick in, and I realise I must betray Beryl.
Valdarr must know I carry a sentient stake powerful enough to override my will. I don’t want any secrets between us. I am already pushing my luck with the rule-breaking and the trouble I have brought to his home, and I need to start being honest.
It is not my secret to give, but, noble intentions aside, Beryl frightens me. I cannot deal with her on my own.
“It was Beryl,” I say softly. “Beryl is… the stake—she’s sentient. She used me, took over. It wasn’t really me doing all that killing. I don’t know how to fight. I’m not… I’m not a murderer. I help people; I don’t kill them.”
Sobs rip through me; my chest burns as though scalded.
Valdarr sits, lifts me effortlessly into his lap and rocks me gently. His fingers comb through my wet hair, soothing.
“Today I missed my old life. Even the boring parts, the safety I once took for granted. I left because Jay was horrible, but look what’s happened since. Everything I touch goes wrong!” The words tumble out in a wail I can’t swallow. “You must think I’m the worst person alive.” The worst friend.
“You are incredible,” he whispers into my hair. “You have done nothing wrong. You are safe. I’m here.”
“I’m sorry,” I sob, tears and snot soaking his shirt.
Then I really throw Beryl more under the bus. “It was Beryl’s idea. I meant to run, but she said they would strike while you were vulnerable. Then she jumped into my hand and took over. I tried to fight her, but… I thought it was safer to let her do her thing. I messed up. She did it for the right reasons. I know that sounds bad, yet she’s a good person. She only possessed me to keep everyone safe, and because of the cameras. Still, when I close my eyes, I see their faces…”
All I see is blood.
“I can help,” he murmurs. “Something to ease the trauma. Do you understand compulsion?”
I nod against his chest. “I understand the concept.”
“Good,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “I’m an elder—ancient—so I can use a delicate form of compulsion. I won’t erase the memories; that ends badly. But I can cushion them, make them feel old. Instead of reliving them from hours ago, they will feel years distant. You will still feel sorrow and anger, but the sharpness will fade. Will you let me?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”
“Okay, sunshine.”
He wipes my face with the hem of his shirt. I sniff and laugh weakly. “I’m making such a mess of you.”
