“Are you disgusted with me?” he asked, and though he tried, it was getting harder for him to hide his disappointment.

“No,” I said. “I just cannot imagine it…what it will be like.”

What it would taste like or how it would feel.

We rode in silence for a long moment, and I considered how many people Adrian had changed over his lifetime. He had not always turned mortals as strategically as he did now, and the result had been utter chaos. The power he had unwittingly bestowed on some mortals only illustrated the truth of humanity—when given the option, they would do terrible things, and terrible things they did, attacking villages only to rape the women and kill the men. Those who did not die were changed and left to handle their hunger alone, which led to more attacks.

“Have you ever turned anyone the way you plan to turn me?” I asked, a question that made me feel both embarrassed and guilty. I tried not to be concerned with who Adrian had fucked before me and should not care how he had turned anyone before me either, but it felt different. I knew by how he spoke that he valued this above anything, so why did it matter?

“I have never changed anyone in the way I will change you.”

He spoke with such conviction, and the thing about his belief that he would change me was that I knew it was true too. But I needed time to process that I had become something I’d never planned for, a shifter.

“You once said these monsters who seek blood were creations of Asha,” I said. “Are aufhockers any different?”

“No.”

I was quiet, considering.

“Then is it possible that the aufhockers’ behavior changed because of her?”

I could not see Adrian’s face, but I could feel his body against mine, and as I spoke, he grew tense. He did not like what I was saying.

“Asha has no power on earth,” he said, his voice tight.

“Dis does not either,” I said. “Except for what she does through you.”

Adrian did not respond, but he did halt Shadow, and as he dismounted, I scanned the snowy woods, frowning, seeing no sign of the grave he had spoken of.

“I wish to walk you there,” he said, watching me. “It isn’t far.”

He helped me to the ground, my boots sinking into the snow as I landed. I let him lead, following in his footsteps, which made navigating the woods far easier. Now and then, I noticed how he would touch the trunk of a tree as we passed, fingers lingering as if he were collecting memories. Perhaps he was, or perhaps it was part of the way he remembered how to find the clearing that opened before us.

As I stood at its mouth, I was taken aback.

I had been unprepared for its solemn beauty.