Page 95 of House of Blood and Roses: Vol. 2
Now I'm this close to him and over the shock of seeing him like that, there's no doubt over what happened, I can smell the wine on his breath, and there's a stain on the cuff of his shirt. My heart aches in response. I don't know exactly what happened, but I know how hard he's been working at not drinking, and I can't imagine what must have happened to change that.
A knock sounds on the door, and I get up, pleased to find a servant on the other side of it with a pitcher of blood.
"Your Highness," he says with a bow.
"Thank you." I take the tray from him and carry it back over to the bed, placing it down on the table next to Linc. I pour some blood into one of the goblets and hold it out to him. "Drink."
"I shouldn't," he murmurs.
"It's blood, it'll make you feel better." I don't actually know if that's true. He's said that blood helps him with the side effects of no longer drinking, but I'm not sure if it can chase away drunkenness itself. I've never even seen him like this before.
He takes the cup from me and drinks it slowly. His skin is paler than normal, and his curly hair is sticking up all over the place. Concern spreads through me. This isn't the man I know. He's hurting, and I want to make it better, even if I don't know where to start.
He finishes the cup of blood, and I take it from him.
"Do you want more?" I ask.
He shakes his head.
I set it down and climb into bed with him.
"I'm sorry I failed you," he murmurs as he lays his head on my lap. Pip sees us settling, and moves closer so she can curl up by Linc's side.
"You haven't failed me," I promise as I stroke his head, moving some of the sweat-soaked hair out of his face.
"I drank wine."
"I know. But that doesn't mean you've failed. You just had a small slip, that's all."
"I tried to resist, Bea, I tried."
"Shhh, I know you did."
"How? You weren't even there?" His words are a little clearer now, though I'm not sure if that's the blood, or if it's because some of the effects of the wine have worn off on their own.
"Because I know you, Linc. I know how much you wanted to not do this."
"It was looking at me," he mumbles. "I was having meetings with my father, and there was wine in front of me. I ignored it, but then at the next one, it was there too. And then the next, and I couldn't ignore it. Then I drank it. And it was refilled, and then I drank it again, and before I knew it, I was like this." He waves his hand down himself, almost hitting himself in the face as he does.
"It's just a slip," I repeat. "Do you want to drink more now?"
He shakes his head. "But also, yes."
"Which do you want more?" I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing, or if he needs me to be firmer or softer, I just have to hope I am.
"No," he says so quietly that I barely hear it.
"Then tomorrow, we'll get up, and you won't drink more."
"It's exhausting."
"I know. But I believe that you can do this." I reach for his hand and lift it to my lips, kissing it gently. I can't imagine how much this must be eating him up inside. I want to be able to make it better, even if I know that I can't. He has to do this for himself. I can support him and make sure that I give him the space he needs in order to do it, but I can't be the one who chooses not to drink.
"Maybe you should come with me to meetings from now on," he murmurs.
"Maybe," I respond. "But we should talk about this in the morning." I don't add when he's sober, but I think it. There's no point deciding anything now. "You should sleep," I say.
"Mmm."
