CHAPTER SIX

Unadulterated Truth

Between the short bursts of fruitful conversation was a barren wasteland in which they didn’t speak. It was a completely different kind of neglect Karou had never experienced before. Her parents had verbally, physically, and emotionally assaulted her given a chance, but Warren seemed to have forgotten that she existed - she 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.

Most days, Karou felt like a fraud for even being at the Compound because she was mortal and was constantly reminded that no matter where she went, what she did, or whom 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 didn’t fit in here, either. No wonder she felt lonely and 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. Warren wasn’t that bad, even if his mood swings gave her whiplash. 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. The coffee machine always had a mug waiting for her every morning 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, Warren had somehow noticed she’d given up on her hobby for a few days. 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 through his work, he’d mastered the skills required to meet demand with supply. So, although he was not often kind in his words, at least his actions were thoughtful. Those small acts of kindness made all the difference to Karou but made weighing him up as a person a minefield. He could blow hot and cold. Communication was the main thing he was lacking, and so much chaos was born out of that shortcoming.

By now, they’d lived together for almost four months. Enough time to know certain things about each other such as Warren was an early bird, impeccably tidy and regimented in his routine, whereas Karou was the polar opposite. Indeed, Karou could sleep the clock around, paid no regard to ‘where things ought to be’ and made her decisions spontaneously based on her mood.

Unsurprisingly, neither knew a great deal about the other beyond what could be observed because they’d had so few in-depth conversations.

Through her patient observations, Karou had found Warren was easier to glean information from on the nights when 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.

He focused his eyes in her direction, his nose wrinkled in confusion. “What on earth do you mean; 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. Her head tilted nearer her shoulder; her show of curiosity passively urged him to answer.

“… 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, yes. 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 a 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. “Fine, 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; he’d decided it wouldn’t do any harm to tell Karou the unusual story of his Siring. “I suppose I ought to start with Ellis.”

Although she perked up at the prospect of his story, 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 significant life change. I was born into a poverty-stricken family, but my father 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 things money could buy tempted me too easily.” He scoffed. “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 lead 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 a monogamous man. My eyes and attention wandered effortlessly – that’s why even when I was engaged to an aspiring and beautiful young actress, 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 things, it had to end.”

“It was August when she went missing. All in all, she was gone for almost a month. When the nights started to grow colder, the Parisian Police stopped looking for her. They said if she weren’t already, she’d be dead, and her body, if it were in the Seine, would’ve found its way to the Atlantic. I was… crushed, and I barely tried to hide it. Camille saw through me and my lies. We had a massive argument. She called off the wedding. After 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, one of Ellis and I’s love nests. That’s where she found me.” He cleared his throat, reached for a cigarette, and lit it before continuing.

“September 10th, it was around eleven pm. The rain had gone on since sundown, and the sky lit 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 dreaming.”

As the tale’s climax neared, Warren’s voice grew quieter, and Karou had to lean further toward him in order to hear. His voice was as pleasant to listen to. 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. It was no surprise to Karou when he’d divulged he’d been born in Kentucky.

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, his voice, and his tale. She figured being of such an age meant he had an archive of interesting information stored in his head and an abundance of stories to tell.

“The balcony door burst open. The voile curtains came billowing into the room along with the rain and lightning. Suddenly, she was there and 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 honeyed promises into my ear, and I wanted to believe it, but it was crazy and irrational to think she was truly there because she’d come in from the balcony in a storm, and my apartment 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 - that 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, and with so little thought as to the life I was taking.”

“The blood pool that circled Ellis’ body had mingled with mine while I bled out. With a lack of mortal blood in my body and the presence of hers, I turned. Now that I think about it, I became delirious and faded in and out of consciousness. I thought infection had set into my leg, but the reality was much worse. I’d shot her, thinking I’d rob her of her life. It was shallow vengeance for threatening mine. In reality, it gave me no relief. All it achieved was to make me immortal and, ironically, 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 truthfully, I was angry and cowardly in the face of death. I didn’t want to die alone.”

“I’ve no idea 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 my rebirth into my new life would be as horrific as my Siring. Magnus was the one that rescued me. He took me to his Coven. They locked me up in a cell, fed me live mortals, and weaned me until I could control my thirst. I was reduced to a caged animal and conditioned until the bloodlust that fogged my every thought passed, and I regained some civility. It was a gruelling and harrowing process, becoming a vampire.”

Warren fell silent, and Karou shared it while she digested his story. It confirmed two things to her - one, Warren was a vampire, and two, Ellis was an evil, selfish woman. There had been something about her that never sat well with Karou. Still, she had tried 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…” She muttered, staring down into her lap in contemplation. She nibbled at her lower lip and sought for the right words. “That’s incredible… But now I feel like I should tell you something about my past.”

“You never told me why you ran away from home,” Warren suggested smoothly. He’d been wondering why she had ended up out in the Montana wilderness, all alone, since her arrival. “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 didn’t know how to care for us. They didn’t even try.”

“You’re not an only child?” His brows furrowed. Warren had always taken it for granted that Karou had no siblings; the vibe she gave off was that of a loner.

“No, I have an older sister, but we’re estranged now. Magdalena, but we called her Magda. I haven’t seen her since she left home. She got away as soon as she could, and no wonder. As soon as she was sixteen, she moved out. I guess I’ve ended up doing the same; she just left more conventionally.”

“Your parents certainly had a flare for unusual names...” He smirked and reached towards the coffee table for yet another cigarette. His following question was somewhat muffled because he held the cigarette between his lips; while he opened his matches and asked, “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.

He’d been focused on the flame that flickered at the end of the match he was holding to his cigarette when his eyes darted back in her direction. The dead look in her eyes was haunting. Somehow, in those simple words, the meek, mortal girl had managed to spook him.

“I was always a sickly child. They never made it a secret that they hated me or that I was a burden. They did their best to have as little to do with me as they could, but in the end, even turning a blind eye to me wasn’t enough. I guess they just wanted to get rid of me for good. 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 she hunched over her lap. Talking about her parents always made her feel small and helpless, and her body language didn’t hide that fact.

“And?” Warren pressed as delicately as he could. Karou had piqued his interest. Although he knew there had been some resolution to her neglect because she had escaped them, yet that alone did nothing to satisfy his curiosity. What was the extent of the damage they’d inflicted on her before she’d managed to get away? Just how deep did this unfortunate soul’s scars run? He needed to know.

“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 lived in hope, 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.

“What happened; I never saw it coming. I’d never expected that they would do anything like that. I knew they were probably crazy and 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, instead, she raised her head and stared ahead at Warren, and bravely spoke her pain into reality for the first time since it had happened. Finally, she was making her victim statement, but to the most unlikely person.

“My dad pinned me down on the kitchen table. I was on my front, and he sort of held me down by pressing his forearms down across my shoulders, I think... I just remember the weight, like my ribs were going to snap. He kept yelling, “Mel, do it, do it now.” My mom cut open my sweat and sliced open my back. She was crying, but I don’t know if she was upset; she just sounded desperate. She kept preaching over and over that they could ‘fix me’. I can’t remember if I screamed or cried or if I even 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, but I ran and just kept running, even though I was bleeding and had no idea where I was going. I must’ve 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.”

“I’d been thinking about making a break for it for a while. I’d hidden a backpack full of stuff under the porch of a neighbour’s house about a month before, so once I’d grabbed that, I hitchhiked out of town and then started walking until I got here.”

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.

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 the restraint required 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. As Warren passed her in the hall, going to his own room, she whispered, “Thank you for telling me your story…”

In response, he said nothing, but she thought that for a moment, she had almost seen him smile.

As soon as he was out of sight and she was safe behind her bedroom door, she sighed with relief - 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. He would undoubtedly 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 growing as curious about the act as he was, especially since he had confirmed 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. 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. Deviating from his usual routine meant he’d long missed his regular appointment with his liquor tray, so 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 out of her hands and set it on 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 leaving when he paused; a moment of indecision overcame him.

The scent in her small closet room was so potent, and in his current state of thirst, it was almost painful to linger, 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 he’d revealed that he was a vampire 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 worryingly, their frequency was increasing.

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 would wander 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, which was unusual. Warren had never given himself a day off 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 location that had once been a wound sight, from where Ellis had impaled Warren’s thigh with the steel bedpost, would regress 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, it felt like a gaping hole beneath his skin, where soon the skin would mangle and possibly open up. 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 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 nourishment. 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. When 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 hobbled down the hall and into the lounge. Her brows furrowed in concern because she 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 used the side table that ran the back of the couch as a crutch to lean against. 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 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, Karou loitered in the hall and tentatively watched Warren from across the room. She’d noticed how he’d 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 looking her way, Warren didn’t see Karou defy him to inch nearer. She was unconvinced that everything was okay. The way his hand lingered over his thigh as he leaned 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 kind blue eyes, freckled cheeks still flushed from sleep and a sweet closed-lip smile. Too cute to be threatening, and her brows contorted in such a way to show that she was concerned, she offered, “I’m awake now. Do you need me to clean up the broken glass?”

“No. Don’t,” Warren commanded 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 more disastrous than Karou has probably realised. 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, can you open the door for me?”

“Yeah, sure.” Doing as he’d asked wasn’t hard; all she had to do was dodge the shards of broken glass. Holding the door open for him as he staggered nearer, she asked, “You’re not going to work, are you?”

He shook his head no.

“Warren… What’s wrong?”

“I’m thirsty. My leg hurts a lot. And no, I’m not going to work today.”

Given his predicament, his answer was terse, is convinced Karou not to push the issue any further. She could tell he was thirsty by his eyes alone. She thought there was something enchanting about their depth, but she didn’t stare too long. Instead, Karou was distracted by something else about his body that she noticed, and it caused a flush of colour to rise to her cheeks – he was wearing pyjama pants and nothing else. 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; his body language made it apparent that he’d follow her in his own time.

“Huh? 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. Warren’s private office had always felt like a room that was strictly off-limits to her.

“Yes, Karou,” 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. “See the safe? 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. 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 like to state the obvious; it was 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 biteable. Distracted by her piercing blue eyes when she looked at him, he snapped out of his thirsty daze and stated, “1936” A year - it was the combination. He wouldn’t reveal its significance for now, but he had no intention of lying if she asked. It was the year his father had died, or rather the year that Warren had finally decided to dispose of him.

Karou twisted the dial this way and that until the lock released. With a slight tug on the handle, it gasped open, and a plume of cool air swept past her cheeks which startled her eyes to blink rapidly.

Once her eyes adjusted, she peered inside. Karou plainly saw that it wasn’t a safe Warren kept money in. Though it was probably foolish to have been surprised, she couldn’t hide how her eyes widened and her brows shot upward. Brushing that off, she thought about it practically.

Of course, a vampire has a fridge full of blood.

Done eyeing the two shelves dominated by packages of medical-grade blood, Karou glanced over her shoulder and asked Warren, “D’you want all of it?”

“No, two should be fine,” Warren stated. “Actually, make that three.” He had enjoyed watching her reaction. What he’d enjoyed the most, though, was how her heart rate had sped up at her revelation.

With his meal gathered into her hands, Karou examined the blood bags’ appearance and the way the cold, thick liquid felt in her hands through the thin plastic barrier. There was something strange about cold blood, she summarised. 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, but she didn’t honestly want to think about how it had been collected.

Closing the safe door with her hip, she wandered back to Warren and presented him with his meal. Muttering quiet thanks, he took the blood bags 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? Metallic, I’d bet... 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, being in his office’s small confines with her wasn't as challenging. 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 sucked the blood from his teeth and two fangs that left his lips subtly stained crimson.

“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 of the third and final blood bag. 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 fangs and up close at that.

“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 their retraction made only piqued Karou’s curiosity. 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 wondering 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, but that would’ve put her chest to chest with him. “Do you always feed yourself like this?”

“What, with my mouth?” Warren grinned wryly.

“No… I mean-” 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 judgement in her voice, Karou asked her question with an open-minded inquisitiveness, like that which was common in 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?”

His question was as disarming as his gaze. Swallowing deeply and blinking rapidly as if that might help her find an answer, Karou wasn’t sure whether to take offence.

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.

“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 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, but 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. His 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. However, she wasn’t wishing her feet would come unstuck from the floor and carry her away from him. No, strangely, she itched to step closer.

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 completely. 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 compassionate.

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.

Now, He 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.

“You shouldn’t wonder about that; it’s a death wish,” Warren warned, but Karou’s hold beneath his forearms held fast. He didn’t touch her in return, although he didn’t pull away either. Instead, attraction and dangerous curiosity kept them in each other’s proximity.

“Maybe I don’t want to-…” Finally, Karou’s blue eyes separated from his, and she looked down at their feet as she pitifully admitted, “Maybe I don’t want to live anymore,”

“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 mused, and slowly her eyes found his 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 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 even a little desperate.

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

“Maybe...” She paused, gathering her nerve. “Ma- Maybe you could make me like you?”

Tearing his arms from her hands, Warren backed up to his desk again. If there could have been a sound to characterise the look that came over Warren, it would’ve been the screeching of a vehicle’s brakes grinding to a halt. His facial expression hardened. Hard, like ice. As if 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 Compound’s residents 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 than their first theory, I know...”

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

Karou followed, despite feeling wounded over how he could be so lovely and complimentary in one moment and then so insulting the next that it didn’t stand to reason; she still bit back and raised her voice as she stalked Warren down the hall as he charged 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 suggested, attempting to persuade him to think about it; perhaps from that perspective, it would be more appealing.

All he did to reply was glare at her from 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.