10. Emmanuel

The next night, I didn’t tell him that he had to return. Admittedly, I was testing him. I had every intention of tracking him down and tying him up if he tried to disappear on me—I didn’t have much knowledge of the modern city beyond my own home, but Knox’s scent was strong in my mind and I?—

I needed him.

Not just his blood but—well, loath as I was to admit it, he had... unlocked something in me, a sense that I could be flawed and terrible and worthy all at once.

Well, perhaps I needed his blood too, if I meant to survive, but I was trying to be careful, to wait until he’d recovered before tasting him again. It wasn’t too difficult, when there were other ways he could distract me. I’d gotten used to eating sparingly when Mother?—

No. Each time I thought of her, I caught myself. She was not there any longer, and Knox assured me, time and again, that she’d been wrong about so much.

I wasn’t sure I believed him yet, but I believed in the way his arms felt around me, the way my blood steadied when he leaned against my side—never demanding but deliciously present. I was even beginning to believe he wouldn’t flee from me.

He tolerated much, asked for little, and demanded nothing at all beyond the immanently reasonable—even if it usually took me a couple hours to come around to the idea that he wasn’t asking for too much, trying to leave, thinking that I was wicked and wrong.

That made it all too easy, once my panic had eased, to lavish him with all I could think of. The modern world held many pleasures beyond anything I’d imagined, but I started with food.

There were all sorts of considerations—bank accounts, credit cards, and just as I’d gotten used to the idea of a slip of plastic standing in for supposed wealth, paying for things without credit cards and only my phone. I had my own phone .

But Knox had the knowledge and I had the resources and I very much enjoyed having a bounteous feast delivered to our doorstep.

That little brick phone he’d gotten me was a marvel. People shared their talents and all you had to do was search the internet to learn from them. I didn’t have to leave the house, which, even after weeks as master of the house, was still... difficult. Easier, when Knox was beside me.

Entirely impossible without him, which I couldn’t say aloud and which he was far too kind to point out.

I’d have worried he was too kind, only indulging me, if not for the way his eyes darkened when I ordered him to his knees, when I took all I wanted from him. One night, collapsed on the bed he’d insisted we sleep in—refusing to lock me in my coffin even when I said it was how I’d always slept—he’d told me he liked it. His arm had been under me, around me, his fingertips playing lightly over my elbow while we caught our breath.

He said my commands made something go fuzzy in his head. He stopped thinking. He didn’t have to guess what I wanted because I was ravenous for him.

I promised that I would continue to demand all he had to give me, and he’d even smiled, the fool.

That evening, six weeks after he’d first broken into my—our—home, we’d gotten a large grocery delivery. I was going to make dinner for my Knox, feed him like he’d fed me. The first time I’d tried cooking, it’d been a disaster. He’d laughed and helped me clean up, but admitted the recipe I’d picked was beyond him.

Each time, I got better though. And it was something to do—something that had nothing to do with repenting or feeding or—none of it.

So I was determined to see it through. Make him happy. Give him a reason to stay.

Pasta primavera. It couldn’t be that hard. Only the way I cut vegetables wasn’t as clean and steady as the person in the video, and the water took forever to boil, and I was beginning to lose patience when Knox drifted back into the kitchen after taking a phone call.

When he came close, I reached up to glide my hand through his short hair, and he sighed, his eyes fluttering shut. He looked tired, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with my feeding from him a couple days ago.

He should’ve been recovering, not getting worse.

“What’s wrong, pet?” I asked gently, gratified when he pressed into my hand and indulged himself enough to let out a soft groan.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he muttered.

I huffed. “The truth, Knox.”

He sighed again.

“Pidge gets out of rehab tomorrow,” he admitted, opening his eyes.

I could see the frenzy of considerations that had worn him out, rushing behind his eyes, even if I couldn’t name each of them. He was worried about her, worried about what was next, where she would stay and if he could keep her safe.

I could simplify it.

“Bring her here.”

His brow pinched in the middle, doubt twisting the handsome lines of his face.

“Honestly,” I pressed, leaning into him. “It’s a large house. There’s plenty of space. You and I both know I’ve no idea what to do with all the money M—that she—the money we have. And, I swear, she’ll be safe here. I won’t harm her.”

“Another human in the house won’t be too much temptation? She’s... been through a lot.”

I flinched. Clearly, he thought me capable of making things worse, wicked blight that I was.

A pang stabbed through me to know I hadn’t earned his trust. Of course I hadn’t. I’d taken his choice, his freedom. He might value himself so little that he’d subject himself to me, but he wouldn’t trust me with someone he loved.

Still, he had stayed. Been patient. Offered me, well, something. Everything.

So while my first prick of shame and annoyance made me want to lash out, I took a slow breath and shook my head. “I don’t like feeding from women,” I said. “It’s not... sexual. I mean, I don’t particularly want to have sex with a woman. But I’m only talking about feeding. Mother was?—”

When she came up again, Knox grimaced, and when I shrank before him, his arms were right there to hold me up. He slipped them around my lower back and pulled me close, and I let my head tip against his chest to mumble the rest.

“—concerned about my predilections, so she only brought me girls. The first time I ever—I’d—in the beginning, I’d decided not to feed. To let it end as it ought to have. And after her sacrifice , she wouldn’t allow it. Said she’d given up heaven to save my soul. I wasn’t to waste her gift. When I still refused, she brought a girl, sliced her to ribbons, and locked her in my room. I hate the sounds women make when they’re afraid. They make me feel so?—”

I shuddered. I’d been starving, and still, the memory was sharp and clear and horrible.

Knox’s hand swept up from the small of my back, all the way to my nape. He held me close, tight against him, until I stopped shaking.

“Your sister will be safe here,” I promised once I found my voice again. When I raised my head, it was only to see Knox smiling softly down at me.

He twisted my hair around his fingers. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel the blissful tug against my scalp. “I think she’ll like you.”

I scoffed, straightening up, sticking my chin out. “Of course she will. I’m rich, beautiful, and mysterious. I’ll make all her dreams come true. Starting with—” I glanced at the kitchen counter, my disaster of a dinner that I was making for him. I’d have to be more methodical tomorrow night. “What should I make for her supper?”