I'd made it to the kitchen a couple hours after nightfall. That's when I sensed he had awakened. What struck me as odd was, though he'd awoken, the screams that accompanied him weren't there. He was still in pain, but I could tell he was coping with it—a lot better than I felt I would have. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water at the thought he might have been thirsty. I tried to imagine how raw and sore his throat was based on what I felt. When I entered the room, he looked up at me with agony in his eyes, but there was none on his face. I also noticed he'd covered his midsection with the sheet from the bed as if I hadn't already seen him naked going on three days, at that point. Surprisingly, I had to suppress a giggle at the thought of his sudden modesty, and that's when he spoke. Not a scream or shriek, but quite the opposite.

"I don't want any more drugs. It's worse when I can't be awake. The nightmares are horrible." The weakened, strained whisper left his lips, leaving me feeling helpless.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I just thought it would have helped. I really am sorry, and I promise, this is plain water—straight out of the tap. No funny stuff," I said, truly remorseful.

I walked over to him holding out the glass. He took it and gulped down the whole of its contents without moving it from his lips once. I waited for him to finish, and he handed the glass back to me. I set it on the nightstand then turned back to him.

"Would you like to take a bath? I'm sure you'll feel better afterward. Then, we'll get your clothes back on if it bothers you to be naked," I said, glancing down at the sheet briefly before looking back to his face.

"Honestly, I don't think I can walk. It took all I had to get this damn sheet, and it was right beside me." The rasp of his whisper gave me proof enough of his weakened state.

"Don't worry, I can carry you to the bathroom." He shot me an unbelieving glance, and I hastily said, "I'm loads stronger than I look. Here, just hook your arms behind my neck, and I'll put mine under your knees and behind your back." We performed the actions as I said them, and I lifted him from the mattress.

He huffed in defeat, and I headed to the bathroom with him cradled awkwardly in my arms. His frame was huge in comparison to mine—about 6'4", maybe two-hundred and ten pounds. While I finally paid attention, I found him to be fairly handsome. His wavy, chin-length hair was a light shade of brown, and his eyes were teal. His body was muscular but not overdone—just enough. He had a very soft face, almost like the face of a child—sweet and innocent—but the darkened veins behind his skin tainted it.

I reached the bathroom and set him down on the counter, leaning him against the wall so I could get the water started in the tub. He looked uncomfortable and like he might slide off the counter at any moment, so I hurried. I adjusted the water for what felt like a good temperature before I plugged the drain. He looked as if he wanted to say something when I returned to his side, but he stayed quiet. I lifted him from the counter and took him to the tub, setting him in the water gently. He moaned strangely, and I reached to turn the hot water down, but he stopped me by putting his hand on my arm.

"No, no. It's okay, it actually feels really good."

"Oh, okay. Are you feeling any better?" I asked. Though, I knew the answer.

"Seriously, no. I hurt like hell—everywhere—but I guess there's nothing you can do for that or you would have already done it, right?" His voice was slightly stronger, but that strength was forced. "What have you done to me, anyhow?"

"You're right, I would have done something for you if I knew what I could do, but I don't know. As for what I've done to you, I don't have the slightest clue about that, either. I told you, I've never bitten anyone before. Taken their blood? Yes. But, biting? No. I'm extremely confused on why I lost my self-control like I did." I shook my head back and forth after I spoke, and I felt as the corners of my mouth drew downward.

"How do you take blood without biting?" he asked a bit irritated. "What are you, like a vampire or something?"

"What? No. Vampires are just a myth, aren't they?" His words had shocked me; though, I'd forgotten that I had wondered those exact words several times in the past. I didn't know why I craved blood, only that I always had.

"Well, I would've said the same thing before I had my throat ripped into by a beautiful woman so she could drink my blood." He splashed his face with water and then rubbed at his neck. "How long have I been here, anyway? My throat healed the way it is, I'd say quite a while." He seemed beyond interested to know what I had to say.

"Uh, that's easy and hard to answer. The easy part is: you've been here about three days. The hard part . . . that wound was healed less than an hour after I bit you, and you don't even have a scar."

I held up a small mirror for him to see the place on his neck, and I registered two things in a split second: first surprise and then shock. Both of which I saw flash across his face, but I also felt them course through my body.

"What . . . Why . . . Are those my veins? Why are they so dark?" The shock had made his voice sound even stronger.

"Yes, but I don't know why they're so . . . prominent. Whatever's causing them to darken is spreading slowly. It was just your neck at first. Then it spread to your face and halfway down the left side of your body. And now, well you can see, it's covered your whole upper body to just the top of your thighs." I barely got my voice above a whisper while telling him. "I'm not sure what's going on."

"Will it go away?"

"I don't know," I said, trying to choke back the sob that nearly escaped my throat from the sudden wave of sadness that engulfed me.