Chapter 16

A musement flashed in Simon's eyes. He dragged the tip of his tongue over his fangs when they extended. My eyes dropped to his mouth. Sweat formed on my palms; I took half a step back. Simon leaned closer, tilting my chin with his knuckle so I was trapped in his gaze.

"What an interesting turn of events." I smelled mint and something metallic on his breath. "Please, come in." Simon opened the door to his apartment further and motioned me inside.

I stepped past him, rubbing my arms. It was dark in here again, the living room illuminated by a few candles on the coffee and side tables. There was a cocktail glass on the coffee table that caught my attention. It was full of a thick red liquid that could only be one thing—blood.

Realization sank into me. The other night, at Sophie's apartment, what I'd thought was spoiled red wine had been blood. I wondered how I didn't notice. I was a nurse and no stranger to the sight of blood. I'd been five glasses of wine into the evening, though, and any normal person would never expect to find blood in a wine bottle.

I sat on Simon's couch and placed my hands firmly on my knees. He locked the door and crossed the apartment to sit across from me like he had the night before. He lifted the cocktail glass to bring it to his lips and took a long drink. When he lowered it, his lips were stained red.

"Why do you want to be a vampire?" Simon asked.

"Does it matter?" I retorted.

"It does if you're asking me to change you." His voice lowered.

I sat back and crossed my arms. "My sister won't do it," I told him.

"Why?"

I barely managed to suppress a growl of frustration. He didn't even know me. It shouldn't matter what my reasoning was. In a few moments, I would be nothing but a dead body to him anyway.

Simon leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Answer me, Lucinda."

So, I did.

I told him every detail about my conversation with Addie—how she refused to let me spend eternity with her, but I would never leave her alone. When that didn't seem like enough, I told him about every time Addie was there for me throughout our childhood.

When I was seven, our grandma died. My parents had never explained death to me, and I didn't understand why she couldn't come to dinner. Addie explained what death and dying meant, even though she never should have had to, and then she held me while I cried.

At my eleventh birthday party, the boy I had a crush on shoved cake in my face and called me a pig. Addie cleaned the frosting off my face in the bathroom and wiped my tears.

By the time I was sixteen, I was so thin my ribs protruded out on either side of my chest. My relationship with food was at its worst, and every bite I took was riddled with guilt and unease. Worst of all, I was terrified of disappointing my parents by telling them. Addie drove me to therapy and doctor's appointments after school, and she helped my recovery every day after that.

I graduated high school and decided to go to Northern Arizona University for college and nursing school—and because of the stars at night, though I never told anyone that. Addie packed my things and drove me there. She came to visit almost every weekend. Every time I dragged her to the observatory after dark, she put on her hat and mittens and sat with me to watch the stars.

When I graduated college, she was there.

When we nearly drowned tubing in the Salt River, she held my hand in the ambulance on the way to the hospital and never let me miss a breathing treatment while we recovered.

When I realized I liked both boys and girls, she was there. Every time I cried over one or the other, she was there.

Addie was by my side for every defining moment of my life. She sometimes considered herself a side character in our family's development because she was quieter than me, more reserved than me, and more sensitive than most people. But she was everything to me.

And when it came down to the final moments of her life, I wasn't there for her.

I refused to let her watch me grow old and die. If she had to break her own heart and soul and distance herself while her family lived their lives without her and eventually died, I would be right there by her side with a broken heart of my own. If she wouldn't do it, I'd find someone who would.

When I finished talking, I held Simon's gaze as fiercely as possible.

I wanted this. I didn't care what it took.

"Make me a vampire," I said.

There was an impossibly long silence before Simon drew in a deep breath. "I want to make sure you understand what you're asking me," he said.

"I do," I insisted.

He held up his hand, and I clamped my mouth shut. "You're honestly okay with never returning to your life at home? In a few years, you'll have to say goodbye to your parents without them realizing you're leaving. You cannot go back to your job or your friends."

"Fine," I whispered. My heart cracked.

Simon inclined his chin. "You will never have children."

I ran my hand over my stomach, feeling the loss of the baby that never was for what felt like the thousandth time. I sucked in a breath. Another crack in my heart. "That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

"You realize you will survive on human blood. You will have the instinct to kill. You will inevitably kill someone—many people. Can you live with that?"

"I'll have to."

Simon was quiet for a moment, swirling his drink in his glass. I watched the liquid move rhythmically. My heart beat in my throat while I waited.

If he said no, I could find another vampire.

"I have one more question," he said. I nodded, holding my breath. "Does it scare you?"

"Scare me?" I tilted my head.

"Yes. Does it scare you to know that you're going to die? That I'm going to feed you my blood, then I'm going to snap your pretty neck? That, for a split second, you will be filled with pain until your brain stops sending signals to the rest of your body? Does the nothing that comes after that scare you?"

I shivered. "Of course it does."

Without another word or glance, Simon stood and walked across the apartment to his kitchen. I watched his every move while I waited for his answer. He pulled a second cocktail glass from his cabinet, then a bottle of vodka. Meticulously, he crafted a vodka martini, then crossed the room again to hand it to me.

"Do you have ice, by chance?" I laughed once. "Room temperature liquor grosses me out."

To my surprise, something glinted in his eyes when he nodded. He returned to the kitchen and added a couple of ice cubes to my drink before returning it to me. I thanked him quietly and took a slow sip.

"I'll do it," Simon said quietly.

My heart stopped.

I almost dropped the glass, splashing liquid over my fingers. I opened my mouth to say something but closed it as soon as I wasn't sure what to say. Thanking him felt wrong.

"I have a couple conditions," he continued.

I kept myself from outwardly cringing. I should have anticipated his easy agreement would be too good to be true. Asking a stranger to kill me was a huge favor, nothing like sharing a table at a café.

"Okay?"

"I won't kill you until you've known what it's really like to live," he said. "For three days, I want you to do anything and everything that makes you feel alive. Eat your favorite foods. See places for the first time. Spend time with your sister as you are."

"Why?" I asked. "I can do all those things dead."

"Of course, you can," he said. "But the only way to live forever is to love being alive. Prove to me that you can, and I'll give you what you want."