Mind adrift in a lazy haze of pseudo-sleep, the click of a door lock and the abrupt creak of hinges pulls me back to full consciousness.

Lucien.

I freeze, convinced he's found me and there's no escape.

A shiver runs down my spine as the pulse in my neck begins to throb. My lungs beg for air, but I can't breathe. Listening. Waiting.

Anxiety floods my veins and when the intruder speaks, I jump.

"It's me," the voice calls.

Levi's steps sound from down the hallway.

My breath rushes out in a whoosh, though it takes a while for me to shake off the nerves. A light flickers on and Levi enters the room, giving me a cautious look with vibrant, crimson eyes.

Those eyes.

They're so much brighter than when he left, which means...

Which means, if he didn't have a special "wine" stash like Lucien, he must have...

I don't want to think about it.

I turn my gaze away into my lap and feel him approach. His dim shadow crawls up the foot of the bed and something is placed beside my waist.

"Brought these. They may not be your favorite; I grabbed the first ones I saw." His voice is calm, offering security within simple words. So unlike Lucien, who kept me on edge at every turn.

I lift my eyes and see a small pile of clothing. My clothing. The first band t-shirt I ever bought, the one I slip into almost every day when I reach for something comfy, and my favorite pair of worn jeans. A few more clothes from the top my my drawer and the ankle socks that don't have holes in the toes.

Forcing myself to look up, I offer a small smile. Avoiding his eyes, I focus instead on the rest of his face—precise eyebrows, soft but defined cheekbones, a plump bottom lip colored pale pink. "Thanks."

Abnormal crinkles near the collar of his jacket catch my attention. I scan his shoulders, seeing the stitching torn in various spots. My brows pull together. Even after saving me last night, when I assumed he broke in through my window no less, there had been no trace of his activities. No bruising, no blood, and no wear on his jacket.

"What happened?" I ask.

He looks down, following my line of sight to his ruffled collar, and picks at a loose thread from the ripped seam. "Nothing."

I notice dried blood under his fingernails. "Lying is a horrible way to get me to trust you."

In all honesty I've known he's been lying about—or at least omitting—quite a few details. As much as I hate to admit it, there's no way he made it to my apartment and back within a little over an hour using any common travel method. And for hell's sake, can these people stop assuming I won't question the whole red iris thing? For better or for worse, I'm up against someone who isn't human. That's the only explanation for why a simple call to the police wasn't a viable solution from the start.

"I know, for whatever reason, you've decided it's best to hide what's really going on, but—"

"I ran into Marc," he offers, cutting me off.

I swallow, feeling my blood run cold. I can tell he doesn't want to explain further, but if I'm kept in complete darkness I'm going to lose my shit. "...and?"

"He won't be a problem anymore."

I pull the inside of my cheek between my teeth, then realize he's not going to say any more unless I ask. "What do you mean? Are you implying...­"

"He's gone." Levi catches my gaze and looks directly into my eyes. "Dead."

My hands pull the blanket closer. If I wasn't already prostrated from my weak state, that would have done the job. He doesn't sugar coat it, and part of me appreciates that, but my stomach still churns at the meaning.

Sighing, Levi sits down in the chair. "It can't be traced to you, so there's nothing to worry about."

I'm in the same room as a murderer.

Now that I think about it, that same label could probably be applied to Lucien as well. Still, knowing without a doubt makes the fact all the more harrowing.

Yet—

I'm not sad. Not in the least. I'm more relieved.

One less of them to worry about.

A part of me, which I wish I could say was small but it really isn't, feels victorious. I want them to pay for setting me up, for planning to use me. The only value they saw in my life was in their own interest, and that disgusts me as much as it did when it came from my parents.

Something sparks under my skin. A drive to recover. To come out of this stronger in spite of them.

I wonder how much Levi has in common with the rest.

"Marc was at my apartment?" I ask, connecting the dots. Levi had to get my clothes, and when I didn't show up for my shift today, Lucien probably sent Marc to check on me.

Levi nods. "Yes."

Marc was waiting for me to come back. Waiting to report back to Lucien. A pit forms in my stomach.

I pull the stack of clothes onto my lap and rub the fabric between my fingers. At least I have something familiar. Probably the one thing I'll get to take when I leave, as Levi instructed.

I look over at him as he cleans under his nails.

"Are you going to explain your eye color?" I ask softly.

There's a million things I can call him out on, but that's the one I need to know about the most. I can understand not wanting to tell someone you're a vampire, but that's no excuse. If he's going out to bite some innocent person's neck, a morbid part of me wants to know—

To know if he lives off human blood.

I want to know his limits.

I want to know why he didn't just make me a snack, when I basically offered myself up on a platter.

He purses his lips. "The fact I'm different is no secret, but there's no need to concern yourself with the details. Once you are better, I will be of no importance to you."

I disagree.

"And what about Lucien? Isn't he," I hesitate to speak the word we're both avoiding, "—isn't he different, too? Shouldn't that be a concern of mine?" At this point I'm wondering if Levi has any faith in my ability to handle life. Sure, I tried to end it, but I survived twenty odd years just fine until now. Until they showed up.

"Like I keep telling you, if you leave, he won't be able to track you." He folds his hands in his lap and looks up. "Trust me. I've been honest when it was called for and haven't tried to deceive you."

That's a real sketchy way to define honesty. I force myself to meet his gaze. I want him to know hiding the truth has only added to my list of problems. I want him to see the fear and confusion and hurt in my eyes. Someone has to acknowledge it, even if at times I refuse to see it myself.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, if you want me to work with you. I can't be secluded in a house with someone who will only tell me half of what's going on, especially when it directly impacts my life."

His shoulders slump an infinitesimal amount. This must be harder on him that I thought. Good.

"Please think about what you are asking," he says. "Once you know of something, you can never remove that knowledge from your life."

I let his words sink in, then the difference dawns on me. Unlike Lucien, who wanted to force me to forget so he could take advantage of my naivety, Levi would rather I don't have to forget at all. His words reaffirm why everyone discredited what my Grandma tried to tell me all those years ago, but I don't think ignoring it is a valid solution anymore.

The growing ache behind my eyes and an absence of energy aids my decision. "Then I'll think about it before I ask again," I coalesce. "But when, or if I do want to know, you'll tell me everything?"

Levi's forehead creases, but he replies, "I will."

I lean back, wanting to scurry away into the void of sleep. "Okay."

Levi's a reluctant little vamp, but when he opens up, he's a keeper.

❤️‍🩹 Siberia