16. Chapter 16

16

Chapter 16

Soren

I stride down the corridor, pushing forward with grim determination. I've lived through a lot during my unholy time on earth, yet this moment feels pivotal in a way I can't quite explain.

As I approach the Blackwood woman's cell, memories of my past flood into my mind. There was a time, long ago when I took blood from unwilling victims without a second thought. The shame of those dark days washes over me, a reminder of how far I've come. I've evolved, or so I've told myself. I'm beyond those base instincts now.

But am I really?

The cool metal of the door handle presses against my palm as I reach Mia's cell. I pause, steeling myself for what's to come. I'm a vampire, after all. Draining blood should be second nature to me. Yet something about this feels different, wrong in a way I can't quite articulate.

With a final moment of hesitation, I reach for the handle.

I enter Mia's cell, the door closing behind me with a soft click. She's sitting on the bed, a book open in her lap. For a moment, I'm struck by the sight of her. Even after all she's been through, there's an undeniable fire in her eyes. Her beauty is haunting, made all the more poignant by the pallor of her skin and the fragility of her frame.

She's too thin.

Her head snaps up, her eyes widening in alarm. "You!" she says. "What do you want?" Her voice is sharp.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better," I say without a hint of irony.

Her eyes narrow. "If you're here expecting thanks for getting me help last night, don't hold your breath. I wouldn't have been in that predicament if it weren't for you."

"Point taken," I reply. "That's not why I'm here."

"Why, then?" Her pretty lips purse.

I force myself not to stare, schooling my features into a mask of indifference. "It's time for your blood extraction," I say, my voice carefully neutral.

Her jaw clenches, and I can see the disappointment etched across her face.

"I should have known," she spits out, slamming the book shut. "This new arrangement was too good to last, wasn't it?"

"The new arrangement was always going to include your blood…donations," I say, trying not to wince as I say the word.

" Donations? " she scoffs. "Donations implies that I'm giving it willingly."

I don't reply. Because she's right. Instead, I fold my arms over my chest and glance at the door pointedly. She rises slowly, huffing as she gets up. She brushes past me, leaving a wave of air scented with something that smells oddly like nectar.

It's her blood.

I shake my head, following her out of the room.

Don't get distracted. It's how she'll control you.

But try as I might, I can't get any sense of evil about her.

As we walk down the hallway, the silence between us is broken only by the soft sound of her breathing. I can't help but steal glances at her, noting the stubborn set of her jaw and the fire still burning in her eyes despite everything.

My mind is a battlefield of conflicting thoughts. On one side stands my duty, the centuries-old loyalty to Maxwell and the vampire cause. On the other, a growing unease about what we're doing here, particularly to Mia.

I try to rationalize it, as I have countless times before. This is necessary. This is for the greater good of our kind. But the words ring hollow in my mind, especially when I look at Mia and see the toll our "donations" have taken on her.

Things will change now. I'll see to it.

As we continue down the corridor, I notice a subtle change in Mia's attitude. Her defiant posture begins to slump ever so slightly. The fire in her eyes dims, replaced by a look I recognize all too well – resignation. It's a look I've seen in countless victims over the centuries, and seeing it on Mia's face twists something inside me.

We reach the door to the medical bay. Mia hesitates for a split second, and I see a shudder run through her body. But then, as if realizing her moment of weakness, she lifts her chin, squaring her shoulders.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" She pushes the door open before I can, then pauses just beyond the threshold.

"Where's the dickwad?" Mia turns to me.

"Dickwad?" I cock my head.

"Dimitri. My favorite blood leech." She looks around. "Where is he today? And the others."

I walk past her through the doorway, trying not to inhale her scent as I do so. As it is, brushing past her leaves me with the strangest urge to stop and stroke her hair.

Right. Creepy as fuck, Daire.

"They will no longer be attending to you."

" Attending to me?" She snorts. "Great. So, who's going to be the lucky candidate this time?"

"Me." I cross the room to where the tray is set out with needles and syringes.

"What?" she chokes out. I turn to face her, taking in her shocked expression. Her eyes widen, a mix of surprise and wariness crossing her features. "You?" she asks, her voice colored with disbelief. "Why?"

I set down the syringe, meeting her gaze steadily. "I've decided to oversee your…procedures personally from now on," I explain, choosing my words carefully. "It's part of the changes I'm implementing to ensure your well-being and that of the other witches here."

Mia's eyebrows furrow, skepticism clear in her voice. "And I'm supposed to believe you suddenly care about our well-being?"

"I understand your distrust," I say, keeping my tone even. "But I assure you, my intent is to make this process as comfortable as possible. You've been mistreated, and that ends now."

I watch as a myriad of emotions play across Mia's face. There's still distrust there, certainly. But there's something else too, a flicker of…relief? It's subtle but unmistakable.

She seems to be wrestling with herself, caught between her ingrained wariness of me and a grudging acknowledgment that this might be an improvement over her previous experiences.

"I don't know what game you're playing," Mia finally says, "but don't think for a second that this changes anything between us."

I nod, accepting her words. "I don't expect it to. I'm simply doing what should have been done from the start."

I gesture toward a comfortable chair nearby, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. "Please, sit down," I say. "I'll explain everything as we go."

Mia's eyes dart between me and the chair, her body rigid with tension. She takes a half-step back, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

"I don't think so," she says, her voice tight with barely contained anger. "I'm not just going to sit there and let you drain me like some kind of juice box."

I suppress a sigh, reminding myself of her position. Of course she's resistant. I'd be more concerned if she wasn't. "I understand your reluctance," I say, maintaining eye contact. "But I promise you, this will be different from how things were in the past."

She snorts, crossing her arms over her chest. "Right, because you're suddenly Mr. Compassionate Vampire?"

I take a step closer, noting how she tenses further but doesn't retreat. "I'm trying to make this as painless as possible for you," I explain, my tone firm but not unkind. "The sooner we begin, the sooner it will be over."

A muscle twitches in Mia's jaw, her eyes blazing. For a moment, I think she might actually try to fight me. But then, almost imperceptibly, her shoulders relax. She's still glaring at me, but there's a hint of resignation in her voice when she speaks. "Fine. Just do it."

I reach out, gently guiding her toward the chair with a hand on her lower back. The moment my fingers make contact, I feel a jolt of…something. It's like a current of electricity, sharp and sudden, racing up my arm. Mia stiffens, her breath catching audibly. Our eyes meet, and for a split second, I see my own surprise mirrored in her gaze.

I prepare the equipment methodically, my movements precise and controlled. As I turn back to Mia, my eyes are drawn to her arm. The sight that greets me sends a surge of anger through my body. Her skin is marred with a constellation of needle marks, some fresh, others fading. It's clear she's been handled roughly, treated cruelly. My kind have a lot to answer for.

I force down the growl that threatens to escape.

This ends now.

"May I?" I ask softly, reaching for her arm.

Mia hesitates, then nods stiffly. As I take her arm in my hands, I'm struck by how warm her skin feels against mine. It's been so long since I've felt the heat of life coursing through my own veins, and the contrast is stark.

I cradle her arm gently, my touch as light as I can manage. My fingers ghost over the inside of her elbow, seeking a vein that hasn't been abused. I'm acutely aware of every point of contact between us – the softness of her skin, the faint tremor in her muscles.

As I work, I notice Mia's breathing change. It becomes shallower, quicker. A shiver runs through her body, so subtle I might have missed it if I weren't hyper-aware of her every movement. She tries to hide it, turning her face away, but I catch the way her pulse quickens beneath my fingertips.

I pause, my eyes lifting up to her face. Our gazes lock for a moment; there's confusion in her eyes, or maybe surprise at her own reaction. She quickly looks away again, her mouth set in a stubborn line.

"I'm sorry," I say as the needle punctures her skin. She flinches almost imperceptibly, taking in a sharp little breath. It shouldn't hurt much. I spent an hour practicing this skill before I got here. Still, something strange swirls inside me at the thought of causing her pain.

She gives her head a small shake. "Didn't feel a thing." Her voice is husky.

And I swear that I have to be the world's most twisted fuck because it sounds…sexy.

I clear my throat softly, searching for a way to break the heavy silence that's fallen between us. "So, Mia," I begin, "I noticed you were reading when I came to get you. What book was it?"

She glances at me, surprise flitting across her features. "Why do you care?"

I shrug, careful not to disturb the needle in her arm. "Just making conversation. Unless you'd prefer we sit here in awkward silence?"

"Awkward silence suits me fine." The set of her jaw is stubborn.

"Come on. Humor me." I want to take her mind off what's happening.

Why care? She's supposed to be evil.

Although I still can't sense it.

Mia rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "It's ‘Pride and Prejudice,' if you must know."

"Ah, Jane Austen," I nod. "A classic."

She raises an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've read it."

"I may be a vampire, but I'm not uncultured," I reply, a touch of amusement in my voice. "Though I must admit, I prefer ‘Sense and Sensibility.'"

Mia lets out a short laugh, then quickly catches herself. "Well, aren't you full of surprises?"

As we continue to talk, I can feel the tension in the room slowly easing. We discuss literature, moving from Austen to more modern authors. I'm pleasantly surprised by Mia's sharp wit and insightful comments.

"You know," she says after a while, her tone softer than before, "for a bloodsucking predator, you're not terrible company."

I feel an unexpected warmth at her words. "High praise indeed," I reply dryly, but I can't help the small smile that forms on my lips.

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, there's a spark of something between us – a connection that goes beyond captor and captive. But then Mia seems to remember where she is and who I am. She looks away quickly, the warmth in her eyes replaced by guarded wariness.

I'm acutely aware of Mia's presence as we sit in this sterile room. Her scent envelops me; sweet, warm, alive…enticing. It's maddening how it fills my senses, threatening to overwhelm my carefully maintained control.

"You okay?" I ask when I realize we've fallen into silence again.

"Never better," she quips. "Bloodletting is my favorite thing to do…after filing tax returns."

"That's good to know." I glance down at where the bag is beginning to fill; rich, dark, ruby-red. I snap my eyes away. For some reason, seeing her blood unsettles me.

The sound of her breathing fills the silence between us. It's steady but with a slight catch that betrays her nervousness. I find myself unconsciously matching my own breaths to hers as if our bodies are falling into sync against our will.

Her warmth radiates toward me, a contrast to my own cool skin. I'm hyper-aware of every point where we're almost touching – my fingers near her arm, our knees almost brushing. The urge to close that minuscule gap is nearly overwhelming.

I clear my throat, straightening slightly.

"Anything wrong?" She cocks her head slightly as she looks at me

I can hear her heartbeat, a steady rhythm that seems to echo in my ears. It's faster than normal, betraying her anxiety despite her outward calm. The sound is mesmerizing, pulling at something primal within me.

"Hey!" she says sharply, catching my attention.

I look up sharply. "What? No. Everything is fine." I look down again. "We're nearly done."

The crimson cable snaking away from her arm seems to pulse with a life of its own. I move away and stand, pretending to busy myself on the other side of the room.

Fuck.

My fangs have extended. It takes me a couple of long minutes to compose myself. When I turn around, the bag is full. And she's looking at me curiously.

As I remove the needle from Mia's arm, I can't help but notice the delicate network of veins beneath her skin. I can practically hear them pulsing. I press a small cotton swab to the puncture site, acutely aware of how close we are.

"Hold this here for a moment," I instruct.

Mia nods, her fingers brushing against mine as she takes over. The brief contact sends a jolt through me, and I have to force myself to step back.

I busy myself with labeling the blood bag, trying to ignore the intoxicating scent that fills the air. When I turn back, Mia is looking pale, her eyes slightly unfocused.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

She nods, but as she stands, her legs wobble. Without thinking, I reach out, catching her before she can fall. My arms encircle her waist, steadying her against my chest.

Time seems to slow as we stand there, our bodies pressed together. I can feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt, hear the rapid beating of her heart. That maddening scent envelops me, clouding my senses.

Mia's hands rest on my shoulders, her fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and filled with emotions I can't quite decipher. Surprise, confusion, and something…something that makes my dead heart feel like it might start beating again.

We remain like this for a moment too long, both of us seemingly unable to pull away.

"All good?" I ask, hoping to break the spell.

That's what it is. She's bewitching you, Daire.

She nods, not speaking.

I escort her back to her cell, our pace slower than our earlier trip. The silence between us feels different now – less hostile, more contemplative. I can't help but steal glances at her as we walk, noticing how she holds herself with quiet dignity despite her situation.

As we reach her door, I stop. There's so much I want to say, explanations I want to give, but everything seems completely inappropriate. Mia pauses, too, her eyes meeting mine.

"You won't be bothered tomorrow," I say quietly, breaking the silence.

Surprise washes across her face. "What do you mean?"

I take a breath. "We're changing the protocol. Blood will only be taken every other day from now on."

Mia's eyebrows furrow, confusion and suspicion warring in her expression. "Why?" she asks softly.

I hold her gaze, wanting her to see the sincerity in my eyes. "Because it's the right thing to do." Then, without another word, I turn and walk away, feeling her eyes on my back as I go.