Chapter 17

The man nodded obediently beneath my palm, his green eyes still wide with fear but showing a flicker of resignation. I carefully removed my hand from his mouth and pushed myself up to a sitting position, though I remained straddling his hips on the narrow couch. The position was intimate in a way that made heat pool low in my abdomen, but I forced myself to focus on the conversation we needed to have rather than the intoxicating scent of his blood or the warmth of his body beneath mine.

I extended my hand toward him in what I hoped was a gesture of goodwill, and after a moment of hesitation, he placed his trembling fingers in mine. His skin was warm against my perpetually cool palm, and I could feel his pulse jumping erratically beneath the delicate skin of his wrist. I helped him sit up properly, shifting my position so I was perched on the edge of the couch beside him rather than on top of him, though I kept hold of his hand to prevent him from bolting.

"My name is Vivienne," I said, forcing my voice into something approximating warmth and reassurance, though I suspected the effect was somewhat undermined by the fact that my fangs were still partially extended and my eyes were probably showing far too much crimson. "What's yours?"

He stared at me for a long moment, his chest still rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths, and I could see him processing everything that had just happened—the way I'd been waiting for him in his apartment, the supernatural speed I'd displayed, the fangs he'd undoubtedly felt against his neck. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse with fear and exhaustion.

"Lysander," he managed, and the name sent a shiver of recognition through me even though I'd never heard it before. It suited him somehow, this beautiful terrified creature who'd stumbled into my life and turned everything upside down.

I nodded slowly, committing the name to memory, letting it roll around in my mind like a fine wine. "Well, Lysander, I imagine you're curious about why I came looking for you." I paused, studying his face for any sign of comprehension, but he just shook his head slightly, clearly too overwhelmed to make sense of any of this. "I know what happened last night must have been terrifying. I'm sorry about that. But there's something we need to discuss."

His eyes narrowed slightly, confusion mixing with the fear, and I could see him trying to piece together what I might want from him. When he spoke again, his voice was stronger, though it still trembled at the edges. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break your equipment. However much it costs, I'll pay you back. I promise."

I glanced around his shabby apartment—the worn furniture, the peeling paint on the walls, the stack of past-due bills I could see on the counter even from here—and felt something twist in my chest that might have been pity if I'd allowed myself to feel such things. I looked back at him, noting the biology textbooks stacked by his bedside, the careful way he'd organized his small space to maximize functionality, and allowed myself a small smile.

"I see you have some background in biology and laboratory work, given those books," I said, gesturing toward his nightstand. "So you understand the value of specialized equipment. The glassware you shattered, the centrifuge you knocked over, the contaminated samples—I'd say fifty thousand dollars is a fair assessment of the damage. Wouldn't you agree?"

I watched the color drain from his already pale face, saw the way his throat worked as he swallowed hard, and knew without him saying a word that such a sum was completely beyond his means. He looked down at our joined hands, his brow furrowing as he clearly tried to figure out how to dispute the amount without angering me further, but we both knew he had no leverage in this situation.

"I see that might be difficult for you," I continued, keeping my tone conversational despite the predatory satisfaction I felt at having him so thoroughly cornered. "You're young, probably just starting your career, living in this—" I glanced around meaningfully, "—charming apartment. I doubt you have much in the way of savings."

His jaw clenched, and I saw a flash of anger in those green eyes that sent another thrill through me. Good. I didn't want him to be completely broken, just desperate enough to agree to what I was about to propose.

"However," I said, leaning in slightly and enjoying the way his breath caught, "I'm willing to offer you a significant discount. Let's call it twenty thousand instead. That seems more manageable, doesn't it?"

Hope flickered across his face, quickly followed by suspicion, and I had to suppress a smile at how transparent his emotions were. He'd clearly been raised to believe that nothing came without a price, and he was right to be wary.

"What do you want?" he asked quietly, his eyes searching mine for answers he probably didn't want to find.