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When you’ve spent your entire life working toward something, it’s difficult to picture what comes after.
“Are you…are you feeling okay?” “I—what do you mean?” I hold my arm tighter against myself. My mind jumps to my powers, the exhaustion, the chill that never leaves me alone. “What did it taste like?” He scratches the back of his neck, then shakes his head again. “It tastes like poison.”
“You’re telling me I’m a vampire now?” He hesitates, and then, quietly: “Half, I believe.”
swallow hard. “Have you ever turned anyone before?” “No.” A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Too much responsibility.”
Images wash over me like a daydream, but stronger. Heat flashes across my skin, and it’s Reginald—I don’t know how I know, but I do. I watch out of his eyes as he’s walking through the gardens at the estate, only it’s in the middle of the day. The sun beats down on his skin, and he tilts his head back to feel it on his face.
“Did you stop at Bitchiness Incorporated on your way home to pick up this attitude? I hope you kept the receipt to return it,
But as I lie back down, the shock lingers in my body, right behind my navel. And it doesn’t feel like it’s coming from me.
