The small dining room was dressed like a promise: white linen pressed to a flawless plane, rosemary hare steaming on silver, spiced pears glazed to a jewel shine, a decanter breathing old red.
Candles filled every niche; their flame-dance gilded the carved wainscot and threw restless light across the tapestries.
I had not shared a proper supper with Alistair in months; if I must sell a lie this large, it demanded staging. I dismissed the servants and kept only two plates.
He entered with the chill of the corridor clinging to him and did not sit.
"I'm not hungry." He gripped the chair back, knuckles bone-white against carved oak.
"You're never hungry anymore." Wine splashed into crystal, the sound sharp as breaking glass. "Sit anyway."
"Why this performance?"
"Because we're drowning." I met his gray eyes straight on. "Both of us. Separately."
His jaw locked tight. "Helena—"
"I'm pregnant."
The words should have struck like lightning. Instead, he nodded once, controlled as a man facing execution. "I know. Mother told me an hour ago."
The prepared speech died in my throat. "She promised—"
"She's terrified. You've been hiding it for weeks." He circled the table, each step measured, predatory. "While I've been hiding something worse."
"What could be worse than abandoning your wife to shadows?"
"Never mind." He stopped at the window, palms flat against shuttered glass. "The child is not mine, Helena."
The truth crashed over me like a breaker. I gripped the table's edge, silver rattling against china. "You bastard. You think me a whore—"
"I think you are human." He spun to face me, and his eyes held something wild. "I think you sought warmth where you could find it. I can't blame you for that."
"We've lain together. October, November—those cold couplings where you wouldn't even look at me—"
"The child. Cannot. Be. Mine." Each word dropped like stones into deep water.
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I'm a vampire!"
The word killed all sound. Candle flames cowered. The wine in my glass trembled though my hand had gone rigid.
"That's impossible."
"Look at me." He moved into the light, and I saw what I'd been blind to—the unnatural stillness, the absence of breath, the way shadows bent wrong around him. "Mid-autumn. November third. The chapel crypt, cataloging flood damage. Someone waited in the dark—ancient, patient. He took my throat before I could scream."
"You're lying."
"I'm dead." He laughed, bitter as wormwood. "Dead things don't create life, Helena. We consume it."
The math crashed through my mind—November third, his transformation. Our last true intimacy had been October, but there had been those mechanical unions after, even into November's first days. Before the change? After? The dates blurred with Nathaniel's visits, afternoon heat against nighttime cold.
"You knew." My voice came out raw. "You knew you couldn't father children and let me believe—"
"I knew nothing until Mother told me about the pregnancy. Then I knew everything." He crossed to me in three swift strides, too fast, too fluid. "The child proves what I suspected. You found comfort elsewhere."
"While you locked yourself away—"
"To keep myself from killing you." He slammed his palms on the table. Crystal jumped. "Your pulse hammers in my skull. Your warmth tears at me like hooks. Every night I lie beside you is agony."
"Then why come at all?"
"Because I'm selfish." His control cracked, voice breaking. "Because even this hunger is better than losing you completely."
"You already lost me." The words cut both ways. "The moment you chose distance over truth."
"I chose your life over my desire."
"You chose fear." I stood, matching his intensity. "And I chose loneliness. Now we're here, pregnant with consequences neither of us planned."
"The child—"
"Could be yours." I forced the words out. "Those nights in late October, early November, before you turned—"
"Or after." His gray eyes bored into mine. "You don't know, do you? You can't be certain."
"No." The admission burned. "I can't."
Silence stretched between us, taut as wire. The candles flickered, casting our shadows large and strange against the walls.
"Show me." The command escaped before thought could kill it.
"What?"
"Show me what you are. What you've become."
He stepped back, shaking his head. "Helena—"
"You say you're a vampire? Prove it." I moved toward him, each step deliberate. "Show me the monster you claim to be."
His eyes darkened to pitch. Something shifted in his face—cheekbones sharpening, jaw extending slightly. When his lips parted, fangs gleamed like ivory daggers.
I should have run. Should have screamed. Instead, I reached up and touched one fang with my fingertip. A bead of blood welled instantly.
He jerked back, but not before I saw raw hunger flash across his features.
"You're starving." Not a question.
"It doesn't matter."
"When did you last feed?"
"I don't—"
"When?"
"Never." The word ripped out of him. "I won't become that thing. Won't hunt. Won't feed."
"Won't survive." I pressed closer, backing him against the wall. "You're killing yourself slowly, and for what?"
"For you." His hands rose to my shoulders, holding me at distance. "Everything is for you."
"Then take what you need."
"Helena—"
"I'm serious." I tilted my head, baring my throat in the candlelight. "You need blood. I have blood."
"I could kill you."
"You won't."
"The child—"
"Is already at risk. My husband's a vampire. I may carry another man's baby. We're past the point of safety." I grabbed his hands, placed them on my waist. "So take what you need. Let me give you something real instead of all these lies between us."
His control shattered like winter ice. He spun me against the wall, mouth crushing mine—all teeth and desperation. His lips traveled down my jaw to my throat, fangs scraping skin without breaking it.
"You don't know what you're asking." His voice came out destroyed.
"I know you're dying." My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. "I know I can't lose you, even if I've already betrayed you. I know we're both damned anyway."
"Helena—"
"Do it." I pressed his head to my throat. "Save yourself, since I couldn't save us."