Chapter Five

Unadulterated Truth

Between the short bursts of fruitful conversation was a barren wasteland land in which they didn't speak. It was a completely different kind of neglect that she'd never experienced before, but it had become her new normal. Her parents had verbally, physically, and emotionally assaulted her given a chance, but Warren, seemed to have forgotten that she existed. Karou couldn't weigh up, which was worse. Sometimes it felt like she was living with a ghost. He would go about his business as if she were just a mirage. Whether she was curled up on the couch or making something to eat in the kitchen, he would walk past her without a word. Karou already felt like a fraud for even being at the Compound because she was mortal. She was constantly reminded of that, no matter where she went, what she did, or who she talked to; she was different. The old reality of living as a regular person had vanished. It was a painful irony that she hadn't fit in there, and she didn't fit in here. Karou felt very much alone and was getting tired of having to be accustomed to being unwelcome.

All that aside, there were things to be grateful for...

On down days, Karou would stand in front of the bathroom mirror and reality check. The Compound was safe. She had a roof over her head, a bed to sleep in, and clothes on her back. Even if his mood swings gave her whiplash, Warren wasn't that bad. She never had to ask for anything - if Warren was good at one thing, it was anticipating what she needed to function and stay alive. He was a master facilitator, if not much of a talker. He'd stocked the kitchen with food that wouldn't hinder her allergies. Every morning, the coffee machine always had a mug waiting for her and two slices of bread by the toaster. Her laundry would disappear and reappear folded on her bed. Products in the bathroom would replenish without her needing to make any requests. Once, when all her drawing pencils had become too blunt to sketch with, she'd given up on her hobby for a few days, Warren had somehow noticed, and the following day a sharpener appeared; sat on top of her sketchbook.

Kind wasn't a word she figured most people would use to describe Warren Howard, but really, he was. If not in his words, at least in his thoughtful actions. The small acts of kindness made all the difference but made weighing him up as a person a minefield. He could blow hot and cold that way. Communication was the main thing he was lacking and so much chaos was born out of that shortcoming.

By now, they'd lived in the unit together for almost four months. Enough time to know certain things about each other, yet they'd had so few in-depth conversations. Warren was easier to glean information from on the nights where he'd had one glass of scotch more than usual.

One particular night Karou sat in the corner of the sofa watching Warren finish his third glass of scotch. There was a period before he decided to retire, in which he just sat ruminating.

"Warren, what are you?" Karou asked boldly.

"Whatever do you mean?" He focused his eyes in her direction, his nose wrinkled in confusion. "What am I?" He mimicked her question as if that way he might fathom what she meant.

"What kind of mythical are you?"

"Surely, you already know the answer..." Warren was ready to blow her off, but in her eyes glimmered her power, her faultless resolve; there was no way she'd drop the subject. "If you don't, that's a very personal question, don't you think?"

Now that she thought about it, it really was. "Is it considered rude to ask?"

"I suppose it's an unspoken rule. What if you were to ask someone who was a mortal by mistake? We'd have been found out centuries ago…"

"But I know that you are mythical…"

"I wasn't always." Warren stared Karou down. Something about her expression convinced him that she was probably open-minded enough to handle knowing how he became what he was. Warren decided it wouldn't do any harm to tell her the unusual story of his Siring. "I guess there's no reason not to tell you since you live with me. The question is, where is best to start?" He paused, looking into his lap in thought. "I suppose I ought to start with Ellis."

Karou couldn't help how her nose might have wrinkled at the mention of the woman she disliked.

"Ellis Denver… You already know she made me what I am." Warren continued, for now, he wasn't going to say the V-word because he enjoyed the element of suspense his story could have if he told it right. Though he'd never actually retold it before as if it were a campfire story like he was about to. "It was 1932. I was twenty-eight and a rich American boy living in Paris. Having lived the high life through the twenties, I'd made a series of intelligent business decisions that meant I was making a lot of money out of the depression that'd hit hard back home."

"In my youth, before I met my sticky end, I'd already gone through one major life change. I was born into a poverty-stricken family, but my father had had some luck in the oil industry. Within months we had more money than we knew what to do with. Ultimately, I squandered everything because the thing's money could buy tempted me too easily. Mostly I dabbled in my darkest fantasies. I made money quickly and spent it even faster. I wasted evenings drinking too much liquor in lousy company and entertained numerous women at once. I liked driving fast cars and put everything else on hold to play polo. I snorted cocaine to maintain the energy required to burn the candle at both ends. All roads led to debauchery. I thought I had the world on a string. I was under the illusion that the fountain of fortune would never stop flowing.

Anyhow, I'm getting off track…" Warren paused to gauge Karou's interest. She sat completely still, staring at his face. "It sounds like I enjoy the sound of my own voice, doesn't it?" He asked.

"No. I do, though. So carry on," Karou grinned. "Please?"

"Alright - if you insist. What I was getting at was that I wasn't a naturally good person or monogamous man. My eyes and attention wandered effortlessly - that was why when I was engaged to an aspiring and beautiful young actress called Camille Edwards, I was fooling around with Ellis on the side. She was a vixen even back then before she became twisted. While it lasted, it was a tragically beautiful and wonderful affair, but like all beautiful things, it had to end."

"It was August when she went missing. All in all, she was gone for almost a month. The nights grew colder, and the Parisian Police stopped looking for her. They said if she wasn't already, she'd be dead, and her body, if it was in the Seine, it would've found its way to the Atlantic. I was… crushed, and I barely tried to hide it; my fiancée quickly saw through me. We had a massive argument. She called off the wedding, and when I left her at her Daddy's house, I went AWOL for about a fortnight. I didn't go home; I went to one of my apartments that had been one of Ellis and I's love nest, and that's where she found me." He cleared his throat and reached for a cigarette, and lit it before he continued.

"September 10th, it was around eleven pm. The rain had gone on since sundown, and the sky kept lighting up due to the storm raging outside. I remember staring through the balcony window from my bed. I couldn't sleep, but the rest of Paris below my room was fast on and dreaming." As the tale's climax neared, Warren's voice grew quieter, and Karou had to lean further toward him to hear. His voice was as pleasant to listen to as he was easy on the eyes. His timbre had a rich quality, it was smooth and inviting, gentle in contrast to all the angles and edges of his handsome face. Now and then, his words were tainted with a twang or phrase stretched into a drawl. His accent was still slightly southern, even after having been away from his mother state for so long. When he had divulged that he had been born in Kentucky, it came as no surprise.

Karou had also decided that Warren was an excellent storyteller; she was on the edge of her seat, with bated breath and completely fixated on him. She figured being of such an age meant he had an archive of interesting information stored in his head and an abundance of tales to tell.

"The glass door opened, and the voile curtains came billowing into the room along with the rain and lightning. She flung herself onto the bed and into my arms. God, she was so happy to have found me. She said she'd been lost, but now she saw everything clearly and that we could be together forever like we'd wanted. Ellis whispered all her sweet, honied promises into my ear, and I wanted to believe it; but it was crazy and irrational to think that she was truly there because she'd come in through the window, in a storm, and I was on the third floor. My mind couldn't escape the truth that there was no way she could've scaled that wall. Why didn't she come to the door?" He took a deep breath to centre himself.

"That was when I managed to pull her back and look at her. I saw red. The dream of having her back in my arms turned into a nightmare on a dime. She was dead. Pale, with these black, looming eyes. The picture of a real devil staring right at me. In the same moment, she must've seen all that fear all over my face, and she knew that what she'd dreamed of, of 'us being together forever,' was all folly."

"The next half hour of my life is still a loss to me; I remember as much of it now as I did days after it happened. I know there was a fight. A fight that I lost. I remember seeing fangs for the first time, and it put the fear of God in me. I remember the pain of being thrust against the floor so hard I thought my spine had snapped. In the chaos of it all and her attempt to feed off me, whether to kill me or Sire me, I don't know, but she plucked the metal foot post from the bed as if it were a flower and impaled my leg. She pinned me to that floor like an insect. What would come after was a long week spent dying.

I recall the floorboards' texture; I scraped my nails and fingertips across the grain, trying to reach the shotgun I kept under my bed. Finally, the feel of the trigger beneath my finger gave me a way to communicate my rage. I'd aimed the barrel right to her chest, I'd never pulled that trigger faster, with so little thought as to the life I was taking."

"The blood pool that circled Ellis' body had mingled with mine when I bled out. With a lack of mortal blood in my body and the presence of her blood, I turned. I became delirious and in and out of consciousness now that I think about it. I thought infection had set into my leg, but the reality was much worse.

I shot her, thinking I'd rob her of her life. Shallow vengeance for threatening mine, but in reality, it didn't give me relief. It made me immortal and granted me an eternity to suffer… This could've been a story of defiance or a tale of my stubborn will to live. It might've been inspiring, but I was angry and just didn't want to die alone."

"I don't recall how long I was pinned to the floor, but when I was found, I was nothing more than a starving and feral fledgeling, weakened by my struggle. I blacked out as soon as I thought I was remotely safe, but the birth into my new life was going to be as horrific as my Siring. Magnus was the one that rescued me. He took me to his Coven, where I was locked up in a cell, fed live mortals, and weened until I could control my thirst. I was reduced to a caged animal and conditioned until the constant thirst that fogged my every thought passed, and I regained some sense of my humanity. It was a gruelling and harrowing process, becoming a vampire."

Warren fell silent, and Karou shared it with him while she digested his story. It confirmed two things to her - one, Warren was a vampire. It was the first time he'd say it aloud to her. And two, Ellis was an evil, selfish woman. There had been something about her that never sat well with Karou. Still, she'd tried her best to rise above that and take her as she found her. Now though, her opinion was concrete; she didn't like her, not one bit. Ellis didn't genuinely care for Warren. She just used and manipulated him via whatever Sirely power she had over him and made him a slave to her fickle wants.

"Wow, that's…" Looking down into her lap, Karou nibbled at her lower lip while searching for the right word. "Incredible." After a long contemplative silence, Karou spoke again. "Now I feel like I should share something with you."

"You never told me why you ran away from home," Warren suggested smoothly. He'd been wondering just why she had ended up out in the Montana wilderness, all alone, for some time. "When I asked, you changed the subject."

"Yeah…" Karou rubbed over the back of her neck, suddenly reluctant – if only he'd asked about something, anything else. She'd never opened up to anyone about her home life before. Karou wasn't the type to play the victim; she had a 'good sport complex', so she never complained regardless of how bad things got. Talking honestly about how her parents had treated her made her feel guilty and like she was tattle-telling on them. "I ran away because I didn't get along with my parents. That's the long and short of it."

"I have yet to meet a teenager that does. Surely, there is more to it than merely not seeing eye to eye?" Warren probed.

Again she paused, giving herself a second to consider how she ought to express herself, Karou sighed and met Warren's eyes. "Basically, my parents should have never had kids. They didn't want us, and they didn't know how to care for us. They didn't even try."

"You're not an only child?" His brows furrowed. For some reason, Warren had always taken it for granted that Karou had no siblings. The vibes she gave off were that of a loner, at least.

"No, I have an older sister, but we're estranged now. Madrigal - we called her Magda. I haven't seen her since she left home. She got away as soon as she could, and no wonder. I guess I ended up doing the same; eventually, she just left more conventionally."

"Your parents certainly had the flare for unusual names..." He smirked and reached towards the coffee table for yet another cigarette. "What made you decide to leave when you did? You didn't seem all that well prepared?"

"They tried to kill me," Karou admitted bluntly, and for once, her face held no expression.

It caught Warren entirely off guard. He'd been holding a match to the end of his cigarette when he caught sight of her. The dead look in her eyes was haunting; the meek, mortal girl had managed to spook him.

"I was always a sickly child. They never made it a secret that they hated that about me or that I was a burden. They did their best to ignore me, but in the end, I guess they just wanted rid of me. I don't know what triggered them to do it, but one night after I'd gotten home from school, they were waiting for me." Her nerve faltered; the inevitable guilty feeling weighed heavily and held down her shoulder so that she hunched over her lap. Talking about her parents always made her feel small and helpless, so it was a given that that was how she presented herself.

"And?" Warren pressed as delicately as possible, though now his interest piqued, he needed there to be some kind of resolution to her sad story.

"I-… I was six when I stopped crying because the two people who were supposed to love me didn't. I was maybe eight or nine when I realised they were wicked, damaged people. At least I had my sister. It got worse once Magda left home, but I became determined to get away from them one day too." Another pause stretched out between them as Karou's mood waned.

Warren wasn't one for words of comfort, but he was about to change the subject to save her any more turmoil. The lingering silence that held Karou's tongue indicated to him that perhaps she wasn't ready to dissect her trauma yet, but then she spoke again, "I didn't see it coming. I never expected that they would do anything like that. I knew they were probably crazy enough, capable enough to, but… I just hoped y'know?" She didn't want to cry, but hanging her head made the tears that had gathered in her eyes feel heavy, so she raised her head, stared ahead at Warren and bravely spoke her pain into reality for the first time since it had happened. She made her victim statement, "My dad pinned me down on the kitchen table while my mom sliced open my back, preaching over and over that they could 'fix me'. I can't remember if I screamed, or cried, or even if I fought back, but I remember that my mom screamed, and that's when my dad let go of me. I - I got away from them, I don't know how but I got out of that pathetic excuse of a home and ran. I just kept running, even though I was bleeding and had no idea where I was going. I guess I passed out, but when I woke up, I decided it was better to take my chances on the run than be attacked by them again."

Warren stared hard at Karou's face all while she spoke, his cigarette burnt away between his fingers, untouched by his lips. He knew what it was like to be abused by a parent and go to sleep at night knowing that you were a disappointment to them, not enough, and ultimately unloved. Warren had also had his life threatened by his father numerous times throughout his adolescence. Even so, he didn't presume to comfort her or offer his condolences. What good would that do her anyway? He simply said, "It's all behind you now."

Somehow that was enough. Karou almost smiled and finally let her tears free to trickle down her cheek.

On the other side of the sofa, Warren stubbed out his cigarette and suggested that it was bedtime. Mostly he didn't want to see her cry and hoped she'd take the hint and go to bed to do it privately. How she had made herself so small in her seat had already caused the empty feeling Warren often felt inside to swell in sympathy for her, and of course, he knew that the most humane course of action would be to hold her. But if she wept in front of him, he didn't know if he could muster what restraint it required for him to do so in the way she needed. Touching her when he was so thirsty seemed like an awful way to tempt a dark fate.

It didn't take long for Karou to gather herself and make her way to her room. "Thank you for telling me your story…" She whispered as Warren passed her in the hall, going to his own room. He said nothing, but she thought that for a moment, she had almost seen him smile.

As soon as he was out of sight, she sighed, relieved. Telling someone about her traumatic past was cathartic.

To co-exist with each other while maintaining distance was a challenging concept to most, but yet again, Warren seemed to be coping perfectly well. It hadn't occurred to him that the other party involved might not be, and so for the fourth day in a row, he woke up early, showered, dressed, took breakfast, and disappeared into his office all without saying a single word to the person with whom he shared his home.

Work had been hectic lately, and he'd surrendered himself to the long hours without realising that there had to be some fallout. Everything came second to securing the objective of his new venture, including feeding himself – no doubt, he would pay for the self-neglect in the next few days. Since the air in the unit had grown sweeter due to its new inhabitant, he'd been unable to go more than two days without his thirst plaguing him. Karou's natural aroma was certainly delicious smelling, it tempted him relentlessly, and in his moments of weakness, he caught himself staring at her neck when she wasn't paying attention. Although biting her had crossed his mind, he had no intention of following through with it. You could say he'd made an unspoken promise with himself that he'd taken her in to protect her, not hurt her. Little did he know that she was just as curious about the act as he was, especially since she had begun to suspect that blood was his prescribed source of nourishment.

Inky black wells had taken the place of his blue eyes, and swallowed all the light that poured from his laptop screen. In the corner of the screen, the pixelated numbers showed the time was nearly half-past three in the morning. That's enough for today, he concluded. Diviating from his usual routine because he'd long missed its regular appointment, Warren skipped his evening scotch and headed straight to bed.

Karou never closed her bedroom door completely; she always left it open just a crack as that was the way she slept best. Warren didn't know why but he never questioned it. That night he noticed her lamp was still on when he passed her bedroom door. Peering in, he saw a book splayed open over her chest; she'd fallen asleep reading. Without hesitation, he took the book from her dainty fingers and set it onto the nightstand, making sure to mark her page with her bookmark. He flicked off the lamp before turning away to leave her to sleep in peace. It seemed the obvious thing to do, and he had fully intended on going when he paused for another moment. The scent in her room was so potent, and in his current state of thirst, it was almost painful to linger in the small closet, but he took some time to consider her sleeping face.

It was almost a week since the evening they'd had that strange conversation, but since then, he couldn't help but ponder a little deeper into what had been said. Even though recently, he'd revealed that he was a vampire without skirting around the issue and even detailed how he'd become such a creature, the intimacy of that topic paled in comparison to how he'd admitted he found her attractive. There had only been fleeting moments when he stopped looking at her like a child, but that was getting more difficult. As Warren stood watching her sleep, he thought, You're a vulnerable young woman, aren't you? You might've escaped your parents, but I'm not sure you're any safer here, with me.

When Warren's work alarm would echo through the wall that separated their bedrooms, it was so efficient that it woke her too. Shortly after, Warren wandered from his room into the bathroom to shower before getting dressed for work; through the gap in her door, Karou would feast her eyes on him. God forbid anyone ever found out, but her favourite part was watching him exit. It had mortified her that one morning after Ellis had spent the night when she'd bumped into him, but since that day, she'd become somewhat of a peeping tom - looking but not touching. She could experience just enough of him without crossing any physical boundaries. Her opportunity had arisen because Warren never took a change of clothes into the bathroom with him. So he'd come out through the steam, only clothed in a towel once his ablutions concluded. Since their first meeting, Karou had thought Warren was handsome, but it had been a harmless observation at first. She'd never taken any interest in men in her old life, but now she'd been kidnapped into this new world; she was becoming a different person and with change came a myriad of new experiences and emotions. Living in the unit with Warren meant Karou couldn't escape noticing him. Since he now had an inkling that she found him physically appealing, she'd have to hide her voyeurism carefully; it would've been so much more than embarrassing if he ever caught her.

Splayed out on her stomach with her pillow clutched to her chest Karou waited, staring at the bathroom door and wondered, Is this what coming of age feels like? No matter how belated, Karou's season of desire was upon her - it made the skin around her neck and chest feel hot.

The alarm had gone off around a half-hour ago, but Karou still hadn't heard Warren leave his bedroom. It was unusual; Warren had never given himself a day off from work unless he expected Magnus and Ellis.

When another half-hour passed, Karou sat up in her bed and debated whether to check on him, but that would mean giving away that she knew his morning routine; a tough decision lay afoot.

A scene of a different kind of indecision and anguish was playing out in the other bedroom. Warren had woken up in pain. The aftermath from his unusual siring meant that the wound would constantly reheal if he kept himself well-fed regressed in times of starvation. The result was the deterioration of his left thigh muscle which left him in agony and unable to walk. As a result, Warren had spent periods of his life wheelchair-bound.

Right then, there felt like a gaping hole beneath his skin, and soon the skin would mangle and possibly open too. Laid prostrate in his bed, Warren fought against the urge to admit defeat. With a forearm draped over his closed eyes, he sweated into his bedsheets, shivering in pain and panting to stop himself from crying. After psyching himself up, finally, self-preservation and pride won the fight, and he managed to scramble to his feet and out of bed. Now all he had to do was make it across the unit and into his office, where he kept his private supply of 'food'. He cursed himself for not having it close at hand.

In the end, Warren decided to leave his bedroom before Karou plucked up the courage to check on him. The moment she heard his bedroom door creak open, she crept out of bed to peep through the gap in her door. What Karou saw surprised her; Warren hobbling down the hall and into the lounge. For now, she just observed him but didn't understand why he was limping.

It was a tiring task walking all that way in his condition. So when his office door was only a few feet away, Warren took a break and chose to use the side table that ran the back of the couch as a crutch and lean against it. Once rested, his first mistake was putting his weight onto his left leg to take his first step; the next was where he chose to place his hand to steady himself when he inevitably stumbled. The tray of rock glasses and crystal scotch decanter went crashing to the ground when they were disturbed by Warren's outstretched hand. "Fuck..." He cursed under his breath. Warren glared at the broken fragments at his feet but knew he had to get to his office before he could attempt any kind of damage control. Reaching his hand out towards the office door, he tried forcing it open using his elemental gift, but a gust of air was no use; the handle had latched into the jamb too well. He snarled in defeat.

Stirred from her peeping spot by the sound of the shattering glass that echoed about the concrete unit, Karou lingered in the hall. Looking across the room at him, she'd noticed how Warren had reached for the door even though it was still some feet away; she thought what he was doing was odd but merely an act of desperation to open the door. "Is-… Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Go back to bed." Warren spat curtly. Having given the order without even looking at her, Warren didn't see Karou defy him and gingerly inch her way nearer. She was unconvinced that everything was okay - the way his hand lingered over his thigh as he leant a hip onto the side table, combined with his tone, read that he was in pain.

Warren was still gathering himself to take another step around the shards of glass when Karou appeared at his side, staring up at him with her big blue eyes, her freckled cheeks still flushed from sleep, and a sweet closed-lip smile on her supple lips. Too cute to be threatening, and her brows contorted in such a way to show that she was concerned. "I'm awake now. Do you need me to clean up the broken glass?"

"No. Don't," Warren said hurriedly. "Don't touch the glass… You might cut yourself." He managed to add a reason with a gentler tone. Any split blood at this point could have been disastrous, more so than Karou could have known. Nevertheless, his nerves were too fraught to argue with her about going back to bed, and since she was right there and looking at him expectantly, why not 'use' her? "Seeing as you're awake then, can you open the door for me?"

"Yeah, sure. You're not going to work, are you?" Doing as he'd asked wasn't hard, so she held the door open for him. "Warren, is something wrong?"

"I'm thirsty, and my leg hurts a lot. So no, I'm not going to work today."

Given his predicament, his answer was terse, but she didn't want to press the issue too much. She could tell he was thirsty by his eyes alone. There was something enchanting about their depth, she thought, but she didn't stare too long. Instead, Karou was distracted by what she realised next, and it caused a flush of colour to rise to her cheeks. He's only wearing pyjama pants! How did I not notice before? It embarrassed her how fiercely she blushed and how effortlessly Warren had drawn that reaction from her.

"Go inside. There is a safe in the corner by the standing lamp. I need you to open it." Warren urged Karou onward. It was apparent by his body language that he would follow her in his own time, .

"You… want me… to go into your office?" Karou asked. Even though she was already halfway inside and watching him hobble in after her, she wanted to make sure she wasn't trespassing. For some reason, it'd always felt like a room that was strictly off-limits to her.

"Yes, Karou. See the safe?" His eyes almost rolled; it was a simple enough request. Between the panting, groans, and grumbles of pain, Warren managed to stagger to his desk, where he perched himself on its ledge. Taking the weight off of his leg seemed to improve his mood instantly. "I need you to bring me what's inside it, please."

The safe's appearance was entirely ordinary, a large metal box with a handle and combination dial. It was locked, and although Karou tried the handle, it wouldn't budge. She looked back over her shoulder at Warren, at a loss. It wasn't that she didn't want to help him, but she also didn't want to state the obvious. Surely, he knows it's locked.

From across the room, Warren's predatory gaze bore into her neck and shoulders. Whenever he tried to look elsewhere, he would find his focus wandering back to the exact spot that looked especially tasty to him. Distracted by her piercing blue eyes when she looked at him, he snapped out of his thirsty daze and said, "1936" A year - it was the code. He wouldn't reveal its significance for now, but if she asked, he had no intention of lying. It was the year his father had died, or rather the year that Warren had finally decided to dispose of him.

Karou delicate fingers twisted the dial this way and that until the lock released, with a slight tug on the handle, it popped open. When the door gasped open, a plume of cool air swept past her cheeks which startled her eyes to blink rapidly. Once her eyes adjusted, and she peered in, Karou saw that it wasn't a safe Warren kept money in. What was there surprised her more, but soon Karou was left feeling foolish. Of course, a vampire has a fridge full of blood! She thought as she glanced at the two shelves dominated by the medical grade and packaged red substance. "D'you want all of it?" She glanced over her shoulder, finally tearing her eyes away from the blood.

"No, two should be fine," Warren stated. "Actually, make that three." He had enjoyed watching her reaction - what he enjoyed the most was how her heart rate had sped up at her revelation.

With his meal gathered into her hands, she took in the blood bags' appearance and the way the cold, thick liquid in them felt in her hands through the thin plastic barrier. There was something strange about cold blood; her recollections of the substance had always been warm and sticky feeling. Everything about what she held now was so sterile and far removed from the people it had come from. She didn't want to think about how it had been collected, not just now. Closing the safe door with her hip, she wandered back over to Warren and presented him with the blood bags. He took them from her before opening one of the tubes that stuck out what she presumed was the bottom and set it between his lips. He drank the contents as if it were a juice pouch and Karou stood watching his every move with an innocent but morbid fascination. What does it taste like? Isn't it gross because it's cold?

Warren went about the mundane ritual of feeding himself while being very aware of Karou's gaze and that she hadn't attempted to leave yet. While he quenched his thirst, it wasn't as challenging to be in his office's small confines with her. Seeing that Karou's eyes were fixated on his lips and the level of blood that was disappearing from the bag, he had the chance to take in her face, especially her eyes. "Your eyes are practically swirling with questions you want to ask." Warren broke the silence as he licked the blood from his teeth and two fangs; his lips were lightly stained red as he moved onto opening the third and final bag.

"My eyes?" They looked up from his lips to his own and focused intensely. "Yours are blue again." She whispered as if she were saying it to herself.

"Naturally," Warren replied, withdrawing his lips from the plastic tube. That was when she noticed his fangs; they were hanging in the hollow of his mouth as he spoke. Her brows suddenly rose, and the eyes he was staring at widened. "Something wrong?"

"N-no, just your, uh… Teeth." Karou felt a little embarrassed even to have noticed them, but it was the first time she'd seen them up close.

"Hmm, sorry if they're off-putting." Warren opened his mouth like he was about to yawn, and just like that, the fangs disappeared back into his gums. When he closed his mouth, they looked like normal canines again.

The clicking noise they made on their withdrawal only piqued Karou's curiosity, and she bit down onto her lower lip. Her hand at her side involuntarily flinched upward as if she were about to reach up to his face. "They're not." She gulped despite being bold in her statement. Thinking about their sharp points made her touch her neck. Warren recognised the protective instinct that had moved her hand to cover her neck, but Karou was actually pinching her skin slightly and wandering how tender her flesh was, gauging how much Warren's potential bite might hurt.

"They should be. They should make you want to stay away from me." He warned.

"They don't." She admitted easily. If she hadn't already been close, she might've stepped closer to prove her point; that would've put her chest to chest with him, though. "Do you always feed yourself like this?"

"What, with my mouth?" Warren grinned wryly.

"No… I meant-" Karou frowned until it dawned on her that he was trying to be funny, and then she smirked.

"I know what you meant. Yes, I always drink blood like this." He replied, joking aside.

"So, you don't bite people?" Without an ounce of judgment in her voice, Karou asked her question with an open-minded inquisitiveness that was most commonly a characteristic of young children.

"Not very often, no," Warren replied. Then, out of the blue and with an equally open mind, he asked, "Why do you smell like you do?" They were only a foot from each other, and just as she'd admitted, she didn't feel inclined to distance herself from him; he didn't want her to either. Now that he wasn't thirsty, his fullness allowed him to enjoy her otherwise hindering scent. It was heavenly. As full as he was, he was sure he could still manage a mouthful of her if she offered.

His question was as disarming as his gaze. Swallowing deeply and blinked rapidly as if that might help her find an answer, Karou wasn't sure whether to take offence. "D- Do I smell weird to you? I mean, it could be just something else that's wrong-"

"Like sunshine." Warren interrupted.

"- with me..." Sunshine doesn't even have a smell. The impact of what he'd said was powerful; it caught her breath. That's such a sweet thing to say, but so unlike him. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. When he'd asked why she smelled like she did, she'd expected something mildly insulting but found what he'd said complimentary.

"It makes my throat dry and my mouth water all at the same time... It's not a scent or sensation that I've come across before meeting you back in August, and I've drunk both psionic and fae blood before..."

Karou had no idea what he meant about psionic and fae blood; she presumed, correctly, that they had unique flavours or qualities sought after by vampires. Still, all she could focus on was Warren's candid aura. Him being so intrigued by something as personal and innate as her scent, to begin with, made Karou's neck and chest feel warm again. Why can't I look away from his eyes? Maybe this is the vampiric allure they talk about. "I- Is that a bad thing?"

"It could be bad for you. What if, in a moment of weakness, I bit you?" Warren's eyes flickered over her neck and exposed collar bones as hot blood rose from her chest as she continued blushing. What it did to her skin was rather pretty, but it also warmed her scent from her skin to diffuse into the air around them and waft straight up his nose.

"I've wondered about that," Karou whispered. Watching the way his pupils dilated in reaction to her blushing caused her toes to curl against the hardwood floor, while her fingers toyed with the drawstrings of her pyjama shorts - it was a nervous habit, and Karou was clearly anxious. She wasn't wishing her feet would come unstuck from the floor and carry her away from him; strangely, she itched to step closer. It was flattering that he was so interested in her, and the intensity of his gaze and body language indicated his curiosity.

In that claustrophobic room, the pull between them was getting harder for Warren to ignore too. Lifting his rear from the surface of the desk, he shifted his weight onto his feet like he was about to close the gap between them. Although his leg had healed beneath his pyjamas, he stumbled when the newly re-grown muscle flexed. Nevertheless, the gap was closed, even if not in the way he'd intended. To steady him on his feet, Karou had stepped forward and grabbed hold of his forearms.

The moment he felt her warm hands grasp onto him, he squeezed his eyes closed and flinched as if he'd been stung. What had motivated their movements was instinctual on both of their parts, but what pained Warren was that his was predatory, whereas Karou's was caring. You monster! A voice in his head barked, chastising another persona - the inner predator, upon realising what he'd been about to do. For a moment, the thought of biting her had been irresistible - thank God his stumble had shaken him from the despicable idea.

"You shouldn't wonder about that; it's a death wish." Lent forward into the gentle hold of her delicate hands, Warren sought her eyes for the forgiveness he craved for thinking such wicked thoughts. It was such a pitiful thing for him to desire her so badly yet not want to harm her in any way.

"Maybe I don't want to live anymore, not like this," Karou admitted, having no idea of the intention behind his sudden movement. Still, even if she'd known, maybe she wouldn't have backed away like he was insisting she should. Finally, her blue eyes separated from his, and she looked down at their feet between their bodies.

Karou's hold beneath his forearms held fast, and Warren's hands hovered beneath her elbows, but for now, he didn't touch her in return, although he didn't pull away either. Instead, attraction and dangerous curiosity kept them each in each other's proximity. "Are you so unhappy here that you'd rather die?" Warren asked, lowering his voice into a tone that Karou recognised as concern.

"I just mean that my life has always been kinda crappy one way or another. Living here has been so much better than living with my parents, but I still don't belong. Maybe being like you would make it easier. It wouldn't be so bad, right?" Karou explained, and slowly her eyes found Warren's again. Gazing at him from under her lashes, she forced a weak smile. She knew what she was saying was pathetic, but it was truly how she felt. They hadn't done much feeling sharing, but she hoped he wouldn't brush her off. Perhaps foolishly, she hoped that those small acts of kindness could extend for a moment and allow him to listen to her and maybe comfort her.

"I understand what you're saying, but I don't understand why. Your life being crappy before you got here had nothing to do with your being mortal, Karou. It had everything to do with the environment and family you found yourself in..."

"But being mortal here is hard." She defended; her eyes were still hopeful, perhaps a little desperate too.

"Being mortal here is better than being dead out there. What exactly are you asking me for, Karou?"

"Maybe..." She paused, gathering her nerve. Just say it! "Ma- Maybe you could make me like you?"

If there could have been a sound to characterise the look that came over Warren's face, it would have been the screeching of a vehicle brakes grinding to a halt. Tearing his arms from her hands, Warren backed up to his desk again. His expression hardened, hard, like ice, like his face might shatter. The moment they'd been having had and his reaction scared Karou a little. "Where on earth did you get an idea like that?" Warren growled.

"People around the Compound think that's why I live with you. That maybe you're grooming me to become your fledgeling? Or that or your-..." Karou didn't know if she dared mention the other rumour. To her mind that one, was the less likely of the two most popular amongst the gossiping community.

"That I'm what?" His tone grew angrier as a knot tightened in his stomach. Warren had a disturbing feeling that he already knew what she was about to say. He'd had suspicions that not all of the Compounds residences agreed with him taking her in or believed his motives to be pure. Some days he wasn't sure that they were one-hundred per cent innocent himself, but, so far, he'd done well to push back against the darker aspects of his nature.

"That you're "having your fun with me"." Karou air quoted, but she didn't dare look at him when she said it. "It's even stupider that their first theory, I know..."

"They're both as ridiculous and as unfounded as each other." Warren marched past her towards the door and bolted out into the lounge. "Get those obscene ideas out of your head!"

Karou followed. Feeling wounded, but it didn't take much for self-deprecating thoughts to start spiralling around her head like a vicious hurricane. Am I that repulsive? He could be so nice and complimentary on the one hand and then so insulting on the other. It was beyond unsettling.

Karou raised her voice a little as she stalked Warren down the hall; he'd run away towards his bedroom. "If you did it, I could leave here, and you'd never have to see me again. That's a good thing, right?" Karou said, attempting to persuade him to think about it. Perhaps from that perspective, it would be more appealing.

All he did to reply was turn his head and glare at her, over his shoulder, with a deadly sort of disapproval before slamming his bedroom door in her face. His reaction stunned her more than having been shouted at would have; having a door slammed in her face was as symbolically final as a response could get. Always stubborn, though, this wouldn't be the last time she would bring up the idea.