Page 39 of Born Chaos

But Roman has all of these people. Dozens of them. And it’s real, and it’s genuine.

I judged him too fast. I was scared when I came into this city, and the circumstances I came here under made Roman nervous. But he was the way he was because of his love for his friends, his people. Roman and I didn’t have a chance to look at each other in any way other than as a threat. And it shaped and defined our perceptions of each other.

But people change. Or maybe our view of them changes.

I shake my head, trying to toss out my heavy thoughts. This is supposed to be a party. I’m supposed to be having a good time, not reminiscing on all the complications of life.

“Hey, let me check your pulse,” I say to one of the humans who walks by. She gladly stops, offering me her wrist. I press my fingers into it, timing her pulse to the ticking seconds on the clock on the far wall. Strong pulse, normal rhythm.

“I assume you came to this willingly?” I ask.

“Of course,” she says with a smile. “Take what you need.”

What a psycho. But I don’t question her twice. Toxins pool in my mouth. I feel my fangs lengthen, and suddenly all I can concentrate on is the scent of the blood in her veins.

I cup the side of her neck and she willingly tilts her head, giving me clear access.

Her skin is deliciously soft as my fangs pierce it. Through tissue they easily glide, until there it is. The hot liquid of her blood gushes into my mouth.

A moan slips from my mouth. How can this be so disgusting and so delicious at the same time? I’m repulsed that this tastes amazing. But it’s such a small reaction, it’s barely a whisper spoken in the winning inning of a Cubs game.

I pull. I suck. I swallow.

The fire in my belly is always there. The heat in the back of my throat never fully goes away. It’s just become a little easier to ignore. It’s like people who deal with chronic pain. You develop ways to function with it because there isn’t much choice otherwise. You can’t spend your entire life rolling around the floor moaning about how much it hurts. I can’t go around panting and trying to drown this heat.

But every now and then, you just can’t push it into the background anymore.

And it’s sweet, sweet relief getting the very thing that can put the heat out.

You have to let her go, I tell myself. Internally, I’ve been calculating how many ounces of her blood I’ve been taking. I have to stop, or she’s going to be woozy. I have to stop, or she’ll be done for the night, and I can’t be that selfish. I have to stop, because supposedly if I were to take too much, she would turn into a Bitten, and from what I’ve been told, that’s a big no-no.

So I let her go. I lick the wound closed, watching it heal before my eyes. The woman seems a little dazed as I hold onto her, making sure she stays upright. But she blinks and I see her focus return. She stands straight.

“Thank you?” I say awkwardly.

She just gives me this dreamy nod and wanders into the crowd.

I look over the people here. It’s thinning a bit. It’s been going on for hours, and even vampires are only party animals to a limited extent. Hell, half the people would be old and dead if they weren’t immortal beings. An early bedtime would be the norm for another quarter of these people, I’d bet.

Needing some fresh air, I step back into the back hallway of the church. I follow the hall to the end. There, I find a set of stairs that rises up and then lets out onto the roof. I wander out and sit on the edge, looking out at the city.

Despite everything, it’s been a good night. I don’t want to admit it to myself, but I feel like I can breathe a little easier. I don’t feel like I’m slowly suffocating, as if a hand is slowly closing around my throat.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but that’s what was happening. Slowly, Sebastian started closing his hand around my throat. I think it started the day Roman carried me into the hospital, after Archer King liquified my insides. I died, came back, and nearly died again.

I think that was the trigger. Sebastian does love me. I loved… love… him.

But at the possibility of losing me, he sank his claws in, gripping too tight.

It felt loving at first. And maybe it was. No one had ever cared if I lived or died. So, to see the way Sebastian was affected that night… It had sealed my soul to his.

But maybe sometimes love gets twisted. Maybe love isn’t holding onto someone as tightly as you possibly can.

Maybe love is giving someone the space they need to breathe, maybe it really is setting them free.

I look back at the sound of a door. In the dark, I see the shape of Roman De Luca walk through, stepping out onto the roof. Slowly, casually, he walks toward me, his hands in his pockets. He slows as he reaches me, sitting on the ledge, giving a few feet of space between us.

“That was some party,” I say, breaking the quiet. The air is shockingly still tonight. There isn’t one bit of breeze ruffling my hair. It’s cold. Way too damn cold. But it doesn’t seep into my bones, not like it used to. “Were you surprised?”