Page 28 of Tainted Souls
The room smells of sweat and medication, with an overpowering thread of vesia—musky and bitter, like damp soil after a drenching storm—working through human blood. I approach the bed slowly, my heart breaking at the sight of Max’s restraints.
His normally vibrant face is now ashen, dark veins branching like roots across his temples and cheeks. His eyes are closed, but I see the rapid movement beneath his eyelids.
“Max?” I whisper, reaching for his hand. It’s cool to the touch, his human warmth fading.
His eyes flutter open, brown irises now ringed with red, like blood seeping into water. They’re distended unnaturally and struggle to focus on me.
“Seraph?” His voice is a rasp, barely recognizable. “Vampire,” he whispers, the word dripping with horror.
A spasm rocks through him, his back arching off the bed as he cries out in pain. I hold his hand through it, wincing as his grip threatens to crush my fingers. When it passes, he looks at me with terrifying clarity. “I’m becoming a vampire.”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
“Why me?” he gasps, tears streaming down his temples into his hair.
Gently, I stroke his face.
The transition is never a walk in the park, but resistance and denial tend to make it harder than it needs to be. It’s much like a panic attack: the sooner you accept the fear for what it is rather than fighting it, the sooner it passes.
Easier said than done, though, especially when you’re someone like Max who has never known how to let go of control.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say, squeezing his hand. “It’s my fault. You don’t deserve any of this.”
Another spasm seizes him, this one more violent than the last. The restraints creak ominously as his body convulses.
After it’s run its course, he’s panting, sweat beading on his forehead.
“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” The reality of the situation is hitting him. “To complete the transition, I’d need to consume my sire’s blood.” He gags on his last few words.
“About that,” I say quickly, before I can think better of it. “She has offered her blood.”
When it comes to wild vampires, Max is just as skeptical as I am. We have at least that in common.
“At what cost?”
I look away. “Me.”
“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t trade yourself.”
“Max—”
“Promise me,” he insists, his voice stronger now, an inhuman edge creeping in. “It’s not worth it. I’d really rather die.”
I lean down, pecking him on his forehead. “I’m not going to let you. We have a plan.”
The nurse appears at my side. “Miss, we must bring this to a close.”
I nod, straightening.
“I’ll be back,” I tell Max, squeezing his hand one last time.
His eyes burn into mine, filled with a mixture of love and growing terror.
“Seraph,” he calls as I reach the door. “If I become something else… don’t let me hurt anyone.”
The unspoken request hangs between us. If he turns rampant, if he becomes a monster—kill him.
“I won’t,” I promise, the words thick in my throat.
