A wry smile lit her face. “I could see where that might pose a problem.” She opened the refrigerator and reached inside, pulling out ham and turkey. “I think I'll have a sandwich.” She looked at him inquiringly.
He took a step back. “No. I have something.” He motioned to the table where a thick glass was filled with a blood-red liquid.
Savannah swallowed. “I'm guessing that's not wine.»
He almost smiled. “No, it's not.»
She squared her shoulders and turned back to her food. She grabbed a loaf of bread and began creating her sandwich. When she was finished, she walked to the small table, carrying her plate carefully. Her gaze drifted to his drink.
William sat down. His brows lifted. “Would you rather I not drink now?»
She took a deep breath. “No, go ahead.” Her smile was weak.
William moved his glass to the side, putting his hands in front of him. He wanted Savannah to eat first. He knew she needed the energy the food could provide, and he was afraid that if she saw him drink, she wouldn't be able to eat.
«Tell me about your life,” he said, deliberately pitching his voice low. He knew a compulsion wouldn't work on her, but he still might be able to use his powers to soothe her.
Her fingers toyed with the table cloth. “What do you want to know?” She wasn't touching her sandwich. Or the glass of orange juice that he'd set out for her.
«Anything.” Everything. Every detail of her life. “I know you lived in Seattle. Did you like it there?»
Her shoulders seemed to relax. “Oh, yes. I mean, it rained all the time, but I like the rain. Everyone there was always so busy. The city seemed to be alive with people.»
«Have you ever lived anywhere else?»
She shook her head. “No. I was born and raised there. My mother was from the south, though. From Georgia. That's why she named me Savannah.” She picked up her sandwich and took a small bite.
«I haven't heard you mention your parents before,” he murmured, his gaze sharp.
Sadness swept across her face. “My parents are dead. They were killed in a car accident a little over four years ago.»
«I'm sorry, Savannah.” That would have left just her and her brother.
«Mark took care of me,” Savannah said, seeming to read his mind. “He's the one who took me to the hospital each time. He held my hand. He told me everything would be all right.” She bit her lip. “But it wasn't all right. The cancer just came back. And then he died.»
He ached for her, for all the pain that she had endured in her short life. He wished that he could take it all away from her. The burden that her slender shoulders carried was far too heavy.
«His death wasn't your fault, Savannah.” He could see into her mind, her heart. The second exchange had linked them, and he could read her all too easily.
«Wasn't it?” She wasn't eating anymore. One bite, that's all she'd had.
«You can't believe it was your fault!” he said in disbelief. “Geoffrey killed him. And Geoffrey is the one who will pay, I promise you. Stop blaming yourself. There's nothing to be gained from it.” He reached for her hand. “Haven't you punished yourself enough?»
She stared at their locked hands. “I should have helped him. He helped me, protected me, for years. I should have done something for him.»
«You will do something.” His fingers tightened. “You'll give him justice. And you'll stop Geoffrey from ever hurting anyone else.»
She nodded. “Yes, I will.” Her free hand reached for the sandwich.
He made certain that she ate it all, and then one more. He deliberately kept the conversation light, telling her of the different countries he'd traveled to, of the wonders he'd seen.
When he mentioned Italy, her face seemed to light up. “I've always wanted to go to Italy,” she said, reaching for her juice. “Is it as beautiful as I've heard?»
He stared at her. “More.»
She sighed, swirling her drink. “I wanted to be an artist, back when I thought the world was mine and I could do anything, be anything, that I wanted.” Her lips twisted, seeming to mock her youthful dreams. “I planned to go to Europe. I wanted to see the Sistine Chapel. I wanted to paint the canals of Venice. Silly, isn't it?»
«No, it's not silly at all.” He tried to think back, to see what dreams he'd had as a youth. All he could remember was blood and death and battles that never ended.
He reached for his glass. “We must plan a trip to Italy.»
Her breath caught. “Truly? Do you mean that?” He could hear the hope and excitement in her voice.
«Of course.” He smiled. “After all, we'll have plenty of time.»
She seemed to absorb his words. “I guess we will.” She shook her head. “It's strange. For so long, I've known that my time here was short. Limited. And now, to know that I won't die—” She smiled, her eyes shimmering. “It just doesn't seem real.»
He drank from his glass, and the blood slid down his throat. He knew his eyes flared red at the delicious taste.
Savannah stopped smiling. “And then sometimes it seems all too real.” She looked away, staring fixedly at the large freezer in the back of the room.
William finished his drink, never taking his gaze from her. “Would you rather I took the blood from a living man? That I tore open his throat and drank his blood?»
«Of course not!” Her gaze flew back to him. “How can you even ask that?»
He held up his empty glass. “I use this so I don't have to hunt. So I don't have to go out every night and drink from someone.” So he didn't have to stare into his victim's eyes.
A faint line marred her forehead. “But you were going to drink from Slade—»
He carefully set his glass down on the tabletop. “At least once every full moon, I must have fresh blood. If I don't, my strength weakens.” But when he fed, he held himself tightly in check, always aware that if his control broke, he could easily kill his prey.
«So I will need fresh blood, too.” Her face looked very pale, very delicate.
«Yes. You'll have to drink in order to survive.” He waited a beat then asked, “Will you be able to do it?»
Her gaze darted to the empty glass and then to his lips, which he knew would be blood red. She set her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I'll do what I have to do. I might not like it, but I'll do it.»
William smiled, relief sweeping through him. “Don't worry. I'll show you how to take the blood. You won't hurt those you drink from, and with a small compulsion, you can make your victim forget the entire encounter.»