Page 110 of For Dear Life

“Grayson.”

Violet looks no different, the same carefully arranged mask and heart-rending eyes that meet my own, and as usual there’s the same sudden speed to her pulse to match mine. She’s dressed in a baggy black sweater and leggings, hair scraped from her face, make-up free, and I chew down the desire for her that gnaws at me.

Closing the door, I rest a shoulder against the frame and regard her impassively. Violet returns the favor, unblinking, back straight. A giggle comes from a room along the hallway. A shout from the grounds outside.

Silence between us.

“For a girl who insists she always speaks her mind and doesn’t care what people think of her words, you’re rather quiet,” I say softly.

“In this instance, I believe I should utilize my newfound skill to control my tongue.”

I flick the tip of my own tongue against a canine. “Why haven’t you answered my other messages?” No response. I peel myself from the wood and take slow, deliberate steps towards her. “If you’re avoiding talking to me, Violet, you must know I’d come to you in person.”

“Undoubtedly.” Not a single physical response, no change in her face or stance, and her heartbeat returned to slow and steady.

“Why do you think I’m here?” I ask and stand over her.

“To talk, I imagine, as that’s a favorite pastime of yours.” There. A single flutter of her pulse, a tiny whisper of something held back from escaping. “Or to request an apology.”

“You already gave me one. Short and as sweet as ever, and on a phone screen.”

She blinks. Just once. “Your response to that message disturbed me.”

“Disturbed you?” I raise a brow.

“‘I don’t mind’ was a rather odd response to someone who apologized for bringing you to the brink of death.”

“Mmm. Imagine the Hell I thought I’d arrived in when I opened my eyes to Dorian’s face.”

She lifts her head. “He helped get you somewhere safe to recover, away from human or witch blood.”

“I know. Then he left me with a gentle pat on the head. Expressed how happy I should be that I hadn’t taken your blood—because that would’ve killed me.”

Her brow pinches. “No. That’s incorrect. You’re not a witch. Vampire blood only kills witches.”

“I’m pretty sure your father meant that if I’d taken your blood, he would’ve taken my life.”

“Ah.” She’s entirely too casual, not treating my words like the joke I’d hoped.

“I’m happy you attacked me, Violet.”

“Excuse me?” she blurts.

“I’m glad you chose to attack me.” She doesn’t budge as I edge closer.

“A friend would’ve helped you that night, Grayson. I am supposed to be your friend.”

“You defended yourself against my attack on you.”

“I could’ve walked away to request others’ help. I did not because the hybrid wanted blood. Your attack brought out my self-defense, and I used that as an excuse. I was lost.” She pauses. “Afterwards, I felt like a monster.”

“I’m a monster too, Violet,” I say quietly.

“You’re not like me.”

“And you don’t know me despite the constant reminder I’m Petrescu. I’ve drained people to the edge of death due to lack of control. I won’t deny that I chased the euphoria and didn’t care.” She blinks again. “Don’t you remember saying I’m worse because I didn’t act in self-defense when I killed Maxwell?”

Violet remains still as I edge even further into her personal space.

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