He gave me a look that suggested I keep my mouth shut lest I enrage him further. “It wasn’t like that. I had to finished stitching up her wounds first. Thank God you have so many boring medical books.”

“I live to serve.” I drew patterns on the table with my fingertip, trying to figure out a way to delicately phrase my next question. “So…does this mean you’re…her mate or something?”

“Well, we did ‘mate,’ so to speak. And I owe you guys for some broken dishes—”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “The thing is, she thinks I’m in love with her.”

“I take it you’re not?” I chuckled. “Max, you could save yourself a lot of trouble if you just kept your pants zipped.”

“It’s not like that, this time. She thinks I love her, and she doesn’t love me, so she thinks she’s hurting my feelings or something.” The teakettle’s whistle sputtered, and Max jumped up to turn off the burner. Once blood boils, it burns, making for an unpleasant, scorched-pot-roast taste.

“Well, you’ve really got no problem then, right?” I moved past him to snag a couple mugs. “If neither of you love each other, then you’re free and clear.”

“And she walks away thinking she dumped me?” He swore, though I couldn’t tell if it was at the idea of being rejected by another sentient being, or if he’d made contact with a hot part of the kettle.

“Is that the worst thing in the world?” I knew Max had a major pride problem, but I hadn’t realized it went so deep.

He poured the blood into the mugs and set the remainder on the back burner. I assumed he left that portion for Nathan, and his thoughtfulness brought unexpected tears to my eyes. I quickly shooed them away, blaming my overemotional state on the fact I hadn’t had any sleep.

“It’s not the worst,” Max conceded as he returned to the table with our breakfast. “But it’s not good. I got a rep to uphold.”

I reached across the table to slap him lightly on the shoulder. He laughed, but the levity was brief. “Besides, I couldn’t be with her permanently. I think of that, then I think about Marcus—”

“Your old sire?” I asked for clarity.

He gave an affirmative nod. “I think about the fact that he’s gone, and all I’ve been carrying around is this yearning for him, wanting to feel what I felt with him. You know, in a totally not gay way. But then I think, wow, love. That’s a thing I have no power over, and it might feel good to know I’m not alone, and it’s like I’m betraying him.”