If Jaspin truly believed she was asleep, he was certainly delirious. Between his coughs, his body shaking, and it being nighttime after all, Elizabeth was not very deeply asleep. She opened one eye as she felt him getting out of bed. Soon after, the smell of blood hit her nostrils and she buried her face in her pillow. She hadn’t been feeling well herself lately. She was hungry. She would never dream of drinking from him when he was so weak, of course, and his blood probably tasted terrible by now anyway, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still feel the pangs of hunger stab sharp in her stomach.
Even though it went against everything she knew about being a good woman, she was absolutely furious with him. She wouldn't admit it. She wouldn't express it. She cared for him the best she could, washing the sweat off his body, placing her cool hands to his temples, even stay awake during the day to watch over him. But she was furious. Furious about their fight last night. Furious that he would reject her help at a time like this. Furious that he would use her existence against her like a slap in the face. Furious that he would buckle and accept defeat and death, when a way out was right within his grasp.
Did he understand that he was all she had to exist for? That she had gone at least two hundred years without having anything that was truly hers to love? And after sharing what might as well have been a single day together for all her long existence noticed, he was prepared to rob himself from her. What kind of man abandoned his woman like that?
If they could die together, she could accept that. But living together was better. She didn’t want to disobey his orders. But he didn’t know what was best for him. He simply didn’t. She was the one who’d lived so many lifetimes already. And he hadn’t even lived a single one. If he died right now, he would die full of regrets. She just couldn’t let him do that to himself.
She pushed herself up and stepped out of bed. Her eyes didn’t have to adjust to the light at all as she wandered over to the kitchen.
“Do you need my help now?”
Perhaps she wasn’t hiding her bitterness as well as she’d hoped.
Even though it went against everything she knew about being a good woman, she was absolutely furious with him. She wouldn't admit it. She wouldn't express it. She cared for him the best she could, washing the sweat off his body, placing her cool hands to his temples, even stay awake during the day to watch over him. But she was furious. Furious about their fight last night. Furious that he would reject her help at a time like this. Furious that he would use her existence against her like a slap in the face. Furious that he would buckle and accept defeat and death, when a way out was right within his grasp.
Did he understand that he was all she had to exist for? That she had gone at least two hundred years without having anything that was truly hers to love? And after sharing what might as well have been a single day together for all her long existence noticed, he was prepared to rob himself from her. What kind of man abandoned his woman like that?
If they could die together, she could accept that. But living together was better. She didn’t want to disobey his orders. But he didn’t know what was best for him. He simply didn’t. She was the one who’d lived so many lifetimes already. And he hadn’t even lived a single one. If he died right now, he would die full of regrets. She just couldn’t let him do that to himself.
She pushed herself up and stepped out of bed. Her eyes didn’t have to adjust to the light at all as she wandered over to the kitchen.
“Do you need my help now?”
Perhaps she wasn’t hiding her bitterness as well as she’d hoped.