From Slate to Crimson Read Online Free

moment…just once.
    Grasping hard to my resolve, I shook myself free of that avenue of thought. “Very well,” I said, “I’ll do it. But I already hate myself for it.”
    * * * *
    I sent Elisa away before I finished the deed. It was difficult to do, and shameful, and I did not wish for her to see this part of me. I instructed her to let no one near the room until I gave the okay. If the worst were to happen, I would simply make the woman sleep again, and alter her memory to the best of my ability, as Justin suggested.
    My daughter bore me no ill will, and obeyed with a last kiss on my cheek. Once finished, I sat to write in my journal, waiting for my guest to awaken. At last, she did.
    “That…wasn’t a dream, was it?” she asked, her voice much clearer, and less groggy.
    “No,” I replied, swallowing against the thirst that rose in me anew, despite my having over-indulged on her blood not but an hour before. Her rose perfume and intoxicating scent again greeted my senses. The memory of her blood’s sweetness nearly caused me to bite my tongue.
    Her beauty was delicate, subtle, something that most men would overlook, like a librarian that either inadvertently or purposefully tried to subdue her attractiveness with unflattering clothes, but brought out her inner beauty through grace and eloquence.
    “I’m in a strange room.” Her tone was almost calculatingly casual as she seemed to narrate her thoughts aloud. I held back my disgust at the sterile detachment in her mind that my meddling had produced “I feel like I got chased down by a dump truck, and then hit by one…And there is someone with skin that is white as paper and red cat eyes sitting right beside me, saying that it all wasn’t a dream.”
    I waited.
    “I know you,” the woman said, her expression brightening with understanding, her voice still soft, calm, and even. “I was terrified when I first saw you. You jumped me; you sucked down my blood. But…”
    Her voice trailed off as she gazed at her hands, marveling at their steadiness. “But now I’m not scared in the least. Why? I was…I think…I mean I should be; I know I should be. Hell, I should be pissing myself right now! What is…? Have I gone crazy?”
    “It’s not strange at all,” I answered. “The toxins have a calming effect on humans.” I winced inwardly with chagrin. “Well, usually.”
    “Toxins?”
    “Not what you think,” I assured her, seeing the worry make creases in her once smooth brow. “You haven’t been poisoned. But I am keeping you a bit calmer than you ought to be.”
    “So you’re messing with my mind?” the woman asked, her face growing into a mask of disgust despite the lack of fear, thanks to my holding it back within her mind. She did not like this, and I could not blame her.
    “Only to keep your emotions from clouding your judgment,” I said. “I wanted you to clearly understand what has happened to you…and why I now must ask for your forgiveness.”
    She fixed me with a shrewd, almost distrustful look. “Forgiveness? For holding back my fear? To be honest, I think I ought to be thankful for that.”
    “You shouldn’t be,” I said, as calmly as she had been. “You might not like it when I release you from that restraint. It’s another thing that I must apologize for, to be honest. But that’s not the first reason.”
    “Then what is it?” she asked.
    “The first drink is usually voluntary,” I explained, my voice cracking with my grief. I swallowed hard, and reached out for her hand, which was limp in my own, but comfortingly warm. “We normally never take a human by force. A human must make a deliberate choice if he or she is to become a host. I robbed you of that choice. I couldn’t help myself.” I felt the tears stream down my face, no longer able to prevent them. I lay upon the pillow in her lap. “Please…forgive me. I beg of you!”
    I felt the woman’s hand touch my head, and run itself through the thick curls of my