“I imagine that doesn’t happen often?” I asked. What I wanted to ask was what that looked like. But I knew better than that. Anton was just as fragile emotionally as I was physically, and this was a fraught moment for us both.
He gave a soft, mirthless laugh.
“No, it doesn’t. More often than I’d like, but this time…it was warranted.”
I didn’t pry. Didn’t want to.
“Are you… truly alright, Anton?”
He looked at me, his eyes wide, rheumy, and tearful. “You… you scared the hells out of me.”
I pressed my lips together, forming an answer. One that would possibly ease the pain in his eyes, but all I came up with was:
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to.”
He brought my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. It was then that I realized that my hands, too, were stained with blood.
Gods, how much had I lost?
Anton seemed to notice just after I did. He held my hand close to his lips for a few moments before returning it to me asgently as he had taken it. His fingers lingered like he didn’t quite trust himself to let go.
“You’re alright,” he said, as much to convince himself as me. “You’re alright. Cassian gave you enough.”
“I know,” I murmured. “I just… I’m so sorry. It was my fault. I asked him, I begged?—”
“You didn’t beg for him to drain you,” Anton said firmly. “He lost control. That’s on him. Not on you… It could have been any of us. Not just Quil.”
I blinked, but the tears didn’t fall. They stayed, frozen in the corners of my eyes as I realized what he meant. Quil hadn’t done it because he was wild. He’d done it because he was a vampire. And it could have happened to any of them. Anton, Cassian, Dmitri…
Even Vael.
The tears fell, dripping down my cheeks as I tried to erase Vael’s voice from my mind.
What did you do?
WhathadI done?
“What did you do?” I muttered.
“What?” Anton asked, frowning slightly.
“It’s what Vael said,” I whispered. “After… after…” I couldn’t finish. My voice cracked on the memory. “He looked at me and asked, ‘What did you do?’ And I’ve been asking myself the same thing ever since.”
The silence pressed in like a weight. Anton squeezed my hand, his thumb brushing over the back of it.
“Do you think he’s right?” I asked. My voice was too small. Too exposed. “That I wanted this? That I brought it on myself because?—”
I didn’t even know what the end of the sentence was. Because I wanted too much? Because I was curious? Because I was already broken in ways I didn’t understand?
Anton didn’t speak right away. He just reached out and brushed a tear from the corner of my eye with the back of one bruised knuckle. He tucked my hair behind my ear.
Then he leaned in, his voice low and resolute.
“I think Vael was hurt and therefore cruel. And I think that question has been used against people like you for centuries. You didn’t do anything, Rowena. You trusted. You wanted closeness. That’s not a crime. You care. The feelings were there. On both sides, or it wouldn’t have taken.”
“Really?” I whispered.
“Really,” he replied. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that. How much did Vael tell you about blood bonding rituals?”