“Let us know if you need anything,” Kathryn calls as I leave the kitchen and head back to my room.
 
 Upstairs, I stop at the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, my skin tone is indeed worse than it was even a couple hours ago. My eyes are dull and lifeless. I’m really getting anxious now. But I don’t know if…
 
 I can’t ask him. I can’t.
 
 Into the evening, I pace back and forth across the creaky floorboards of my room, still thinking and researching on my phone. All the while, the dryness in my throat flares and aches to the point where it’s physically uncomfortable to swallow.
 
 My entire body shudders as I sit in my pajamas on the side of the bed. Fear is manipulating and tangling my thoughts into a dark web, because I keep remembering the damp stone walls crowding every side of me. The horrible smell of dried blood and the squeak of invisible rats circling the perimeter. Waiting and excited for a fresh meal.
 
 Inside my core, my nature is depleted. Hollow from the dangerous combination of overuse and a lack of sustenance.
 
 I can’t go on like this. There’s no other choice.
 
 Giving in, I pick up my phone and text Alexander.
 
 [Hey…]
 
 With my hands quivering, I try to decide what I should say next. How I should make this ludicrous request of him that I don’t deserve. Before I can type anything, though, he responds.
 
 [Ollie?]
 
 [Yes.]
 
 [Where the fuck are you?]
 
 I hesitate and absently chew my bottom lip. I need him. I have to trust him and he’s already shown me that I can. More than once. Exhaling, I type my response.
 
 [At a safe house just outside Nantshire. No one knows I’m here. I ran away.]
 
 A new message comes through almost immediately.
 
 [Send me the address.]
 
 I don’t know the address to this house, so I tinker and figure out how to send him my exact location instead. Five seconds later, he texts again.
 
 [I’m on my way.]
 
 Within an hour of messaging him, I can feel Alexander approaching the house, because his essence always radiates brightly. Like he’s never once thought about tempering or stifling his aura.
 
 Why would he, though? He’s a proud and happy purebred prince whose parents have let him have friends and go to parties. He’s allowed to travel and watch TV shows calledBuffy. I bet his father would never attack and throw him into a dungeon.
 
 I feel ashamed that I couldn’t even make it one whole day on my own. Not only did I have Hudson, Camille, Ben and Chef Maru conspire to free me, I have to drag Alexander into the mess as well because I’m too scared to suffer again.
 
 When I finally hear Alexander coming up the steps, I inhale, then blow it out slowly, because I never know what to expect with this vampire. Soon, there’s a light knock on the door. “Come in.”
 
 Kathryn peeks her head in first. “Your grace, Prince Alexander is here.”
 
 Alexander enters the room wearing a camel-colored trench coat with a high collar, a matching fedora and dark glasses.
 
 I burst into a fit of laughter. Surprisingly, it feels good. I don’t know, but the sight of him is utterly ridiculous. “Are you here to solve a mystery? It’s dark outside.”
 
 “You’re one to laugh,” he spits, whipping off his sunglasses and stalking forward. “Do you think this is a joke? You look like utter hell.”
 
 “Well, I’ve felt better. What’s with this outfit?”
 
 “Never mind me. How long have you been here?”
 
 “Since this morning.”