Max knelt by Bennett’s side. “No, not at all,” he said, rubbing her back. “Trust me. You got what you needed, and while this doesn’t happen to all of us, I’m actually glad it happened to you. It’s a good sign.”

“A good sign?”

“It means the sensibilities belonging to a mortal haven’t left you. You still have principles. You still can feel shame, embarrassment…sorrow.”

“I do,” Bennett said, her voice cracking. “I knew what I was doing was wrong, Max, but I didn’t have the power to stop it, nor did I want to. They had what I needed, what I craved more than…more than anything in my entire life. And once I tasted the first, God help me, I had to have the other two. I just had to, and there was nothing—nothing—that was going to stand in my way.”

Bennett began to weep, and Max said not a word. It had been over a century since he’d tasted the acrid bile that comes from disgrace, the remorse so harsh and sour you believe you’ll never get past it, but one does, and Bennett would. In time, Bennett would.

Once Bennett’s sobs faded, Max spoke. “You should also be experiencing something else now, too. A force within you, a confidence that carries with it a sense of omnipotence. Yes?”

Bennett pulled in a ragged breath. “Yes. It’s like…it’s like I have no fear anymore. Like I’m…like I’m untouchable.”

“Very aptly put.” Max got to his feet and held out his hand. “Why don’t we talk about that on our walk back?”

“Walk?” Bennett said, glancing at the horses. “Are we leaving them here?”

“No, we’ll lead them back, but the walk will help you burn off some energy.”

Bennett stared at Max for a moment. “I feel like I could climb a mountain right now. Does this happen every time?”

“Yes,” Max said, easing into a smile. “It’s one of the reasons I have an area in the cellar for fighting. Tell me, Bennett. Have you ever considered learning how to fence?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It took Bennett nearly four months to get her inner beast under control, and each time she fed, Max hid in the shadows, ready to rub her back if she vomited or dry her tears when they fell. Slowly, the life she was destined to lead became a part of her, and once she’d learned to feed without killing, the weight of Bennett’s shame lessened.

Max had given up believing there was anything Bennett couldn’t accomplish if she put her mind to it. Three months after her first feed, she had mastered fencing with a foil, an epee, and a saber, and along the way, some changes were made.