“I went to him, Rachel,” she whispered, color starting to come back into her lips. “I went to him, and he tore into me like a beast. I welcomed the pain. His teeth were God’s truth, cutting clean into my soul. He savaged me, out of control from the joy of getting his power back after giving it to me so freely. And I gloried in it even as he bruised my arms and tore my neck open.”

I forced my hand to keep moving.

“It hurt,” she whispered, sounding like a child as her eyelids fluttered. “No one has enough vamp saliva in them to transmute that much pain, and he lapped up my misery and anguish along with my blood. I wanted to give him more, prove my loyalty to him, prove that though I failed by not taming you, that I would be his scion. Blood tastes better during sex,” she said faintly. “The hormones make it sweet, so I opened myself to him. He said no, even as he moaned for it, that he might kill me by mistake. But I worked him until he couldn’t stop himself. I wanted it. I wanted it even as he hurt me. He took it all, bringing us to climax even as he killed me.” She shuddered, her eyes closed. “Oh God, Rachel. I think he killed me.”

“You aren’t dead,” I whispered, frightened because I wasn’t sure. She couldn’t be in a church if she was dead, yes? Unless she was still in transition. The space of time when the chemistry shifted over had no hard and fast rules. What the hell was I doing?

“I think he killed me,” she said again, her voice starting to slur as she fell asleep. “I think I killed myself.” Her voice grew childlike. Her eyelids fluttered. “Am I dead, Rachel? Will you watch over me? Make sure the sun doesn’t burn me while I sleep? Will you keep me safe?”

“Shhhh,” I whispered, scared. “Go to sleep, Ivy.”

“I don’t want to be dead,” she mumbled. “I made a mistake. I don’t want to be Piscary’s scion. I want to stay here with you. Can I stay here with you? Will you watch over me?”

“Hush,” I murmured, running a hand over her hair. “Go to sleep.”

“You smell good…like oranges,” she whispered, setting my pulse pounding, but at least I didn’t smell like her. I kept my hand moving until her breathing slowed and grew deep. I wondered if, when she fell asleep, it would stop. I wasn’t sure Ivy was alive anymore.