“Stop,” she said, her gaze going to her hand clutching the table, the nails still shiny from the clear polish she had put on to go to Piscary’s. She visibly forced her grip to relax. “I…won’t ask you to be my scion again if you don’t say anything more.” The last was hesitant, disquieting in her vulnerability.

It was almost as if she knew what I was going to say and couldn’t bear to hear it. I would not be her scion—I couldn’t. The tie that would bind us would be too tight and take from me my independence. While I knew in the vampire existence that the giving and receiving of blood was not necessarily equated with sex, to me they were the same. And I didn’t want to say, “Can we just be friends?” It was trite and degrading, even if to be her friend was all I wanted. She’d take the words as the brush-off most people used them for. I liked her too much to hurt her that way. And I could tell it wasn’t a lingering bitterness that prompted her promise. She wouldn’t ask me to be her scion because she didn’t want the pain of being rejected again.

I didn’t understand vampires. But that’s where Ivy and I were.

She met my eyes with a faltering sureness that strengthened as she saw my silent agreement to ignore what had happened. Her shoulders eased and she regained a wisp of her usual confidence. But as I sat in our kitchen with my feet in the sun, I went cold with the knowledge of how badly I was using her. She was freely giving me protection against the many vampires that would take advantage of my scar—in essence, she was ensuring my free will—and she was willing to overlook that I wasn’t paying for it in the usual vampiric fashion. God help me, it was enough to make me hate myself. She wanted something I couldn’t give her, and she was content to take my friendship in the hopes that someday I could give more.

I took a slow breath, watching her pretend not to notice my eyes on her as I let the pieces fall into place. I couldn’t leave. It was more than not wanting to lose the only real friend I had had in eight years or my desire to help her win the war she fought against herself. It was the fear of being turned into a plaything by the first vampire I ran into in a moment of weakness. I was trapped by convenience, and the tiger with me was willing to lap cream and purr, betting she’d find a way to change my mind. Great. I’d have no problem sleeping tonight.