Soon enough the thirst became unbearable. It felt like the cozy living room's walls closed in on him. He could sense the presence of the people walking in the street nearby. He could smell their blood, calling to him. His body ached as if he were burning inside. When Isabella came home, James was shaking.

She looked at him with a tenderness in her eyes. "The thirst is overwhelming at first, but you will learn to control it. You need to feed."

"I'm... I'm not going to kill anyone," James said, panting, sitting in a corner of the room, his arms around his knees.

"Who talked about killing someone?" He lifted his eyes towards her, confused. "I don't kill humans, James. I feed on animal blood. It is not the same, but it keeps me alive."

"You are not a killer?"

She looked at the ceiling, her mind wavering. "I was at first. Human blood is very addictive, and I... I didn't have the proper guidance. But I gave up on this a long time ago."

James stood up in silence but he couldn't stay still. So he paced the room, trying to understand if he could trust his inner feeling that she was saying the truth. The wooden floor creaked under his feet.

"Look at me," she asked.

He did. He sensed a connection with her, physical, beyond reason.

"You feel compelled to do what I ask because I am your sire and you drank my blood. But I don't want to use that bond. I don't want to hurt you. If you want to leave, you can. But I would like for you to give me a chance. Just look at me. You can trust me."

There was no malice in her eyes. She seemed genuine. As he turned his head and kept on pacing the room, he suddenly wondered about Isabella's age. She looked older than him but not as old as she probably was. "How long have you been a vampire?" He asked.

"More than three hundred years."

He stopped and stared at her. She met his gaze and almost defy it. "So what would it be, James?"

"Alright. Animal blood then."

She smiled and brought him a cup he took with a shaking hand. He looked at it for a while, and the smell reached for him. The blood was like an ocean calling him. He needed it. He could feel it in his bones.

"Surrender, James. You must accept what you are."

He sighed, gave her half a smile in renouncement, and drank. And his body awakened in his new life. It was not as extraordinary as drinking Isabella's blood had been, but it quenched his terrible thirst. His strength came back, and he could think straight again.

Isabella contemplated him as an artwork she would have just finished.

"Don't look at me like that," he said.

"Like what?" She smiled.

"With pride. There is nothing to be proud of."

She stayed silent for a while, before finally asking with caution. "Do you hate me?"

He thought about saying 'yes', but it would have been a lie. So he didn't say anything.