“But I’m tired, sweetheart. Tired of being afraid.

Right away, I had known she wasn’t a vampire. Ilana had always been so brightly, vividly human. I had seen it from that very first moment, and it was what had transfixed me.

She was so, so young. Hard in some ways. Softly naive in others. She did not truly understand, yet, that vampires shone as the silver teeth of traps shone. Their beauty was a beckoning hand, promising sweet caresses. The little serpent was so very lonely. She slithered right into those lovely, elegant fingers. She did not even see the claws.

“You’re sweet,” she said. “Prickly, but sweet. In an acidic sort of way. Like… like a pineapple.”

This was the stare of a creature who understood she was confronting death itself, and still chose to spit in its face.

And when I had disobeyed, I had paid for it dearly. But not with him. Never him. He had packed my bleeding wounds countless times without revealing even a hint of temptation. Had guarded me when I slept. Had cared for me at my weakest. That made it easier. I spent my entire life afraid, forever conscious of my weakness and inferiority, but at least

I shouldn’t even engage. I could practically hear Vincent’s voice in my ear: Think about what you have to gain from an interaction. The answer is usually nothing.

Raihn jabbed his finger at me. “We can’t cooperate if you won’t let me get close to you.” “What do you want me to do? Crawl into your lap?” “I won’t even dignify that with a response,” he spat.

He swung his legs down and leaned forward. With that movement, I twitched backwards, drawing a step closer to the wall. “What?” he said. “Do I smell?” “I told you to get out.”