Ever since I've turned, blood had never once sickened me. Until now.
Rows of shot glasses stood before me on the table, each filled with blood drawn from different centuries, different lineages, different lives. Their shades ranged from deep, thick red to thin, watery crimson. I leaned back, pen resting across the opened pages of my notebook resting on the countertop, chin resting on my hand as I studied them like they might speak.
Now that Rayna and Angelo had gone, I have to admit, the Palace had truly grown quieter. Too quiet, even. After all, I've spent most of my days in these past months with her chatters and little Rose's laughter. And ever since they were gone, with Ravić locked away in meetings, loneliness gnawed at me.
