“What’s wrong?” I whisper, my head still feels fuzzy, but I shove the feeling aside and focus on Bane.
“You tell me, you’re shaking, and you feel like ice,” he says, scooping me up and carrying me over to the sofa. He sits me down and places a hand on the side of my neck.
“When was the last time you fed?”
I have to think about the question for a minute before I come up with an answer. I know it’s been a while, but a lot has happened, and the exact day isn’t fresh on my mind. When I ran out of the supply, he stocked my fridge with I didn’t want to lower myself to calling him to ask for more, so I didn’t. I figured I was over the initial few weeks he had warned me about, my sensitivity to light and sound had passed. When Kit showed up at my door, and I didn’t feel tempted to pop a straw into his neck I thought I was in the clear. I was obviously mistaken.
“Uhm, if we’re talking about blood, probably about four days ago,” I shrug, swallowing against the sandpaper now lining my throat.
He shakes his head, his eyes are wide, and his brow is raised.
“Four days? You’re telling me you haven't had any blood in four days?” he repeats his question.
“I mean, unless we’re counting a few hours ago when I bit you,” I offer, hoping to diffuse the building tension.
“No, we’re not counting that because vampires don’t bite to feed on each other. We do it out of aggression or desire. As a way to challenge a higher vampire or, well, to mate,” he explains.
“Oh,” is all I can manage. The fog in my mind is pushing back, heavier than before, and my exhaustion is quickly overtaking my hunger.
Bane disappears from my side, returning in a matter of seconds with a handful of blood bags. He leans around me, propping up throw pillows and then slips a blood-soaked straw between my lips. I down the first one quickly, and it’s immediately replaced by a second and then a third. Aside from my own sighs and the few small satisfied groans that escape me, the room is silent.
“Piper?” he says softly, once I’ve finished. His cool fingers trail my cheek and jaw. “You can't keep doing this. I know you're worried about losing control of your thirst and going rabid, but that’s not all that’s happening here. You can't deprive yourself of blood just to feel in control.”
I rub my hands over my face, raking my fingers through my hair. My mind and body feel exhausted, but I notice the difference the blood makes immediately, my brain is clear, my muscles no longer ache, and my throat doesn’t feel raw and dry anymore. Bane is right. This started out as fear, a desperate attempt to keep myself from turning into a monster, but it's gotten out of hand. I have been using blood to feel in control. So many aspects of my life are out of my hands now, but feeding my cravings isn't, I call the shots. At least until I'm on the verge of passing out.
“We can come back to that. But If you don’t call your friend, convince him he’s confused and that he was high and drunk, you’ll both be in danger, the kind that I don’t know if I can protect you from.”
“Shit. I completely forgot about that,” I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket and opening Kit’s contact info. “My log says I’ve called him a few times already.” I look up at Bane.
“I called while you were asleep. I figured Kit wouldn’t be in any condition to answer but thought it would look good if you had been trying all night. You know, solidify the story that you’re a completely normal, concerned friend,” he says, shrugging one shoulder casually. I can’t help but smile at the thought he put into this when in all honesty he could have just walked away and left me to clean up my own mess, or worse, he could have let me kill Kit and left me to drown in my own guilt before being put out of my misery by the underworld. I Feel a surge of energy, and lean up, planting a kiss on his lips before sitting back against the pillows and pressing the dial button.
The call with Kit was uncomfortable, to say the least. Lying to him isn’t something I’m proud of, but if it saves both of our lives and preserves our friendship as far as I’m concerned, it was worth it. By the time we hang up I’m pretty sure he believed me, I mean, the alternative is him thinking that I’m a vampire. If I was in his shoes, I would take the junkie best friend relapsing over vampires lurking in the shadows of the most hipster filled city I’ve ever stepped foot in. If you had told me that vampires were real and living amongst the cold brew drinking, beanie wearers of Philadelphia before all of this happened, I would have laughed, like literally, laughed, so I have to hope Kit is of that same mindset.
As my mind puts the Kit drama to rest, I realize I’ve been picking at my nails and staring at my lap for god knows how long, since I ended the call and let my phone fall onto the sofa.
“I think that went well,” I say. I want to push Bane's concerns aside, but my words aren’t very convincing, and anyway, he has heightened hearing, so I know he heard the whole thing.
“It’ll be fine, you shed enough doubt on his confusing, alcohol tainted memories that over the next few days he will convince himself you were right,” he says, grabbing another blood bag from the coffee table and holding it out toward me. I shake my head in protest.
“I’m good,” I say, climbing onto my knees and inching toward him. “Thanks for taking care of me and helping me clean this whole mess up.”
“I know you’re feeling better, but you need to trust me on this. You didn’t feed for four days, and I know you weren't drinking enough before that either. Your blood supply was almost depleted. I honestly don’t know how you went to a party full of warmbloods without hurting anyone. I’ve been at this for a while, and not feeding for four days would have me on edge, possibly to the point of lashing out and hurting someone.”
I look up, and the concern in his eyes is so bare it hits me like a ton of bricks. Since I met Bane, he’s worn a mask of cold indifference, his face doesn’t react or give away his real thoughts or feelings, so seeing this side of him isn’t just a welcome change, it's a complete game-changer. One look in those silver eyes is all it takes for my guilt to return, nagging at my subconscious and wearing me down until I accept the blood and sit back on my heels. I know he’s right, I could practically hear my veins scraping together like sandpaper while I was sitting in Kit’s apartment. But I hate feeling helpless and out of control. And relying on some guy I barely know, needing him to watch out for me, wanting him physically and emotionally, it’s too much.
I’d grown accustomed to being alone a long time ago. I was self-sufficient, I had my own back, and took care of myself. Then Kit came along, and I wasn’t alone anymore. It took a while, but once I made room for him in my life, I couldn’t imagine spending a single day without him. That’s the thing about letting someone in, getting attached, and finally seeing what you’ve been missing out on. It’s terrifying and amazing at the same time because once you’ve seen what life is like in full color, you realize how dark it was before, and you’ll do anything to hold onto what you have.
That’s how I was until I finally accepted that Kit wasn’t like everyone else. He wasn’t like my parents, who put everything shiny and valuable above me, or the staff they hired to watch over me that would disappear as soon as a better offer came along, leaving me to adjust to new nannies and housekeepers constantly throughout my childhood. Kit said he was in it for the long haul, and he meant it. But, Bane? Everything about him is new; there’s no history between us, and as far as I can tell, we couldn't be more different. The only thing really holding us together is our shared venom and the fact that I am a massive liability to the underworld of vampires he calls family. If I let him in, let him see all of my irreparable damage, and he decides to bolt, then what?