I thought his eyes were wide before, but I don’t think I’ve seen such a strong expression on his face as now.

“My blood’s the strongest around. If you drink it, you’ll be stronger. Both of us can take him.”

His hand is still around my neck. I’m not sure he even realizes it, but his thumb’s running up and down my windpipe.

“Not from my neck,” I clarify. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay with that.

He drops his hand immediately. “Of course.”

“Do you think this will work?”

There’s a hungry glaze over his eyes that makes my stomach twist in weird ways. He seems to force himself to snap out of it.

“I know it will make me more powerful. I don’t know if it will be enough. I still think you should—”

“Don’t you dare tell me to run again.”

He stops talking and watches me silently, waiting to see if I really want this. I hold my arm out through the bars, and we both stare down at the blue veins showing against my pale skin.

“Don’t keep a girl waiting,” I say. I try to joke, make things lighter, but he knows I do that in uncomfortable situations. His frown deepens.

“Roman,” I say softly. “I want you to. I need you to.”

That’s enough. His long, cool fingers wrap around my arm just below my elbow. His other hand cradles mine, and his fingers press into my palm as he slowly bends toward my wrist. He pauses with his lips barely touching my skin, and I shiver. I know he feels it because his gaze darts to the side to watch me.

I nod.

He keeps watching me as his lips press harder into my wrist. His tongue darts across my skin, and it takes everything in me not to move. I keep my eyes on him. His mouth widens a fraction more, and I feel the tiny scrape of his fangs, and then the pinch of them sinking in and out again.

I can’t stop myself from flinching, and he looks like he wants to stop, so I squeeze the hand that’s cradling mine.

“I’m fine,” I say, but my voice is hoarse. I’m not scared, though.

He relaxes slightly, and his eyes close as he drinks.

I don’t feel his fangs anymore, just his lips on my skin and the faint pain from the wound underneath them, almost like he’s kissing it and making it better. And then there’s the magic. It bubbles out of me and into him, and I can feel the spell that makes him a vampire lapping it up in desperation, and I wonder if that’s how Roman always feels: desperate and hungry.

My magic wants to help him, to heal him.