“I like to think of it as a fortuitous accident.”
“Yeah, a mistake. That’s what I said.”
His mouth twitched, dimples appearing again. “I apologize for my mistakes. I assure you, I am far from perfect.”
He sounded sincere, almost like there was a hint of bitterness in his tone, despite his easy smile. He was more complicated than she’d expected. Still, it was reassuring to know he wasn’t perfect. It made him seem more… human.
“Were you ever human? I mean, are vampires born, or, well, made? Like in the stories.”
“Made. But not like in the stories.”
“So you were human. Why did you choose to become a vampire?”
His face shifted, growing colder, his eyes hardening, reminding her of the killer he was. She felt a tingle of fear, a brief doubt that he might hurt her. But he hadn’t, had he? Plenty of opportunity, yet here they were, sittingin his living room, having a civilized conversation—about how he’d marked her, like a slave with a collar. An almost-civilized conversation.
“I didn’t choose it,” he said bitterly. “I was never given the choice.”
There was real feeling in those words, but it was tough to care.
“I’m sorry someone turned you into a jerk, but you’re still a jerk.”
His eyes flashed with red-tinged anger, but it faded as swiftly as it came. “We are all products of our past,ma chérie,for better or for worse.”
“How convenient for you,” she said with scorn. “Some of us try to grow and change.”
He inclined his head, as though she’d scored a point. “Change is not a strength of vampires.”
She supposed not. It made sense he was still, in part, stuck in his past life—however old he was. But this line of thinking was a distraction. “So that’s all the mark does? It’s a GPS locator?”
“I suppose that’s an apt description. It also transfers a little of my regenerative capability, but that shouldn’t bother you.”
“Regenerative capability? What does that mean?”
He shrugged, as if the detail was unimportant. “The mark was originally intended to allow one to feed on their preferred prey more often. You’ll heal faster, and regenerate your blood sooner.”
She stared at him. “You turned me into a walking buffet?”
“And you’ll heal faster,” he said, as though he’d granted her some great boon.
“Ohthankyou.”Though that explains why the wound in my neck vanished so fast. “What about side effects?”
“None that I’m aware of. Why? Are you getting headaches or something?”
I suppose you could call it something. She narrowed her eyes. “It’s your mark, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“These…feelingsI get. You’ve done something to me.”
“What feelings?” he asked, his lips curling at the edges.
“Don’t play coy. You know exactly what I mean.”Drugged me. Or as near as made no difference.
“You may need to elaborate,” he said, evidently amused. By what he’d done, or by how she was reacting?
“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “You’ve…bewitchedme, you bastard. You know you have. You’ve…charmedme or something, haven’t you?”
“Hmm,” he said, thoughtfully, pushing his tongue into his cheek, like he was trying to hide his amusement. Was he toying with her? “And what brings you to this conclusion?”