blood loss.
There are only two options in front of me now.
Oblivion or eternity.
I grope around inside my addled mind for what to say, some way to bargain for the right to my own death. I need Bastian to see me, just like I see him.
“You told me that the thing you remember most is your parents being slaughtered in front of you by vampire hunters,” I tell him quietly. My voice has grown stronger. That should be a good thing, but I know what it means. It won’t be long now before my mouth sprouts fangs, and I become the one thing in the world I hate the most. I suck in a breath, but it doesn’t help.
“I know what that feels like,” I continue, my voice shaking.
Bastion frowns at me, the offended look on his face deepening.
I shake my head. “You don’t believe me, but it’s true. My parents were torn apart. Drained dry. They were killed by vampires while I watched through the slats in the closet. I was a child, Bastian. Barely old enough to understand what I was seeing.” I laugh bitterly, choking a little on the air that rattles from my lungs. “So you see—we have something in common. Losing the people we love to violence and not being able to do anything about it.”
He takes half a step into the small dungeon cell, and I realize that tears are streaming down my face.
“I couldn’t save them,” I rasp, my throat closing around my words. “I couldn’t save Nathan.” I look up at the tall, coldly beautiful man before me, pleading with everything in me. “But you can save me. You can keep me from doing any more harm. Please, Bastian—don’t let me be both of our worst nightmares.”
There’s a hint of pain in the prince’s eyes as he comes a little closer. He’s hesitant, tentative, almost like he’s afraid of me. I want to throw myself at him, want to scream and cry and force him to do what I ask. But I swallow it all back. I can see him thinking, can feel his resolve weakening. A sharp pain slices through my gums, traveling up to my eyes, and I cry out.
“Not long now,” I choke out, pressing my palm over my mouth. “Please. Please. Kill me. Quickly, before I forget why I need to die.”
He hesitates for a moment longer, just out of reach. His eyes hold storms in them, and although his body isn’t moving at all, there’s nothing still about him. Then, finally, he sighs and nods, stepping toward me.
I brace myself for attack, my survival instinct flaring despite what I just begged him to do. I hope it’s quick, whatever it is. A snapped neck would be good. Bleeding out wasn’t too bad, but I don’t know if it will work now that I have Tyresius’s vampiric blood in my system. The bruises on my arms are already fading.
But Bastian doesn’t grab me or strike. He doesn’t twist my neck or crush my skull. Instead, he puts a small flask up to my lips.
“Drink,” he murmurs hoarsely. “This will end it.”
I do. I clutch at his arm and drink greedily, clinging to him as I tilt my head up to reach the flask better.
The liquid is bitter and pungent, thick enough to feel like wool in my mouth, but I force it all down. It tastes like death, which makes sense. I open my eyes after I empty the flask, and the edges of my vision have already gone dark. Bastian’s warm, sad eyes are all I can focus on.
He pulls me into his arms, cradling me close and stroking my hair. His touch is tender, even though his chiseled features are still set in a mask.
“Thank you,” I whisper quietly as the feeling runs out of my fingers and toes.
I rub my face against his shirt, breathing in his scent. He doesn’t ask what I’m thanking him for, and I’m glad. Even now, at the end, I have too much pride to tell someone that I’m grateful they took pity on me. I always thought I’d go out stronger than that.
“For death,” I say instead, pushing the words past my lips even as my lungs begin to give out. “For letting me go. Thank you for… proving me wrong about you.”
He kisses the top of my head, ignoring the fact that the strands must be crusted and tangled with blood and sweat. I tilt my head back so