Ayame's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. She still resisted, despite how bad things looked.

  For some reason, she simply didn't want to drink blood. Human blood, he supposed; he supposed that was the problem. But the truth was, Vincent didn't give a damn.

  The reason, one way or another, made no sense. He kept pressing, holding her against the ground. Tears welled up in Ayame's eyes.

  And for a moment, his grip loosened. But only for a moment. If the vampiress had been at even thirty percent of her power, she would have broken free from him in that instant.

  But she wasn't. She wasn't even at thirty percent. That's why she needed his blood.

  This was ugly, horrible. But what other choice did he have? Fuck, what other fucking choice did he have?

  Tara took a step forward, as if to lend her friend a hand. But Vincent stared her down.

  I don't care if she hates me, he thought. Afterwards, I mean. I have to save her. I'm not going to let her die.

  Yes, indeed, he couldn't think of anything worse: watching her die. Before his eyes.

  As long as he still could, he could still do something about it. Simply unthinkable.

  “It’s for your own good. If… You know perfectly well it’s for your own good.”

  She had no choice but to drink his blood. Anyway, what was the alternative? Pushing him off? Certainly not. Holding her breath? Even less so.

  Whatever the reason she resisted drinking his blood so much, it wasn't about wishing for death or some stupidity like that.

  When she couldn't take it anymore, when she had no other choice, she began to swallow.

  Vincent watched her throat move as she did.

  And he almost fainted with relief.

  The regenerative power of vampires was known to all. If she drank enough, there would be no need to wait and cross their fingers. She could recover without a doubt, even from a wound like that. The problem was, he wasn't sure it would be enough.

  Ideally, of course, she would have cooperated and drunk from his throat. A cut on a hand was perhaps too little.

  “Shit,” Vincent muttered, his voice very low.

  But it was okay. Everything could be fixed.

  Vincent unsheathed a knife. He had used some of the reward money for that purpose. He had tried to get Tara to buy a short-range weapon like this, for when using the bow wasn't ideal. But in the end, he had kept the knife. He supposed he was grateful for it now.

  Vincent carefully made several slashes on his fingers. Then, of course, the blood trickled between his fingers and into Ayame's mouth.

  It was the most he could do to increase the volume of blood. If this didn't work, then it would be Ayame's fault for refusing to cooperate. But that wouldn't be any fucking comfort to him. That wouldn't do him any good, when the time came.

  Ayame thrashed, began to thrash even harder if possible. And Vincent told himself it was a good sign; she was already recovering, getting stronger.

  He told himself that and he was surely right, but he couldn't stop his pulse from racing.

  Then Ayame's eyes changed. They turned blood-red. But the color didn't stay in the pupil; in no time, it spread like a thick carpet of blood. The pupil disappeared. Her eyes were simply red from corner to corner now.

  That should even scare him, but he was glad. He told himself it meant it was working, though he wasn't really sure. Though maybe it meant the exact opposite.

  Ayame was crying harder than ever too, beneath him, gasping and moaning.

  Suddenly Vincent went flying. His back hit a log hard, knocking the wind out of him. He coughed several times as he sat up.

  Ayame did too, without any help.

  At least it was worth it, he thought. I don't know what's going to happen to me now, with this team, but it was worth it.

  At least Ayame would be okay.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Ayame threw her head back. Her fangs extended, sharp as daggers, as she continued to writhe, as if her body were a prison and she were trying to break down some invisible wall. She roared, her mouth and fangs stained with blood; his blood.

  But what did he care about that? The only thing he could think about was that her mangled chest was closing up again, the wounds would heal, and everything would be in its place.

  Also, as always, maybe better than ever. At least this way they hadn't had to just wait, get lucky, arrive on time, for the healers to be ready for the emergency and do everything right. Everything right and just in time. That was too much to expect, no matter how he looked at it.

  He believed he had made the right decision, even if Ayame held a grudge against him for it. He had made the right decision, without a doubt, though it didn't mean it was easy, not remotely.

  Ayame lowered her head a little and stared at him. It was obvious, even without pupils.

  He thought a string of insults or endless reproaches would rain down on him, but she remained silent, except for the growls, of course.

  Gradually the fangs retracted and then her eyes returned to their normal color; everything back in place. As good as ever, or better than ever. They looked at each other, stared at each other.

  “I didn’t want this,” Ayame said slowly after a while, her voice almost inaudible and almost sounding like a lost child. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

  Vincent swallowed.

  “You’re looking at me differently,” Ayame continued.

  “That’s not true, it isn’t and it never will be.”

  “Do you think I don’t notice those things with a single glance? I know you and I’m a woman.”

  Vincent clenched his fists.

  “That’s not true. What could have changed? I offered to give you blood if you needed it, days ago, didn’t I?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Then what’s the fucking problem?”

  “You look at me differently and, if you don’t, you will soon.”

  They were teammates, friends, but she didn’t trust him. Not in that way, not to that extent.

  He had no right to complain and feel annoyed, because he was doing the exact same thing.

  But it annoyed him anyway. And how?

  “I see you for what you are. I see you as my friend. I know perfectly well that you drink blood, that you’ve drunk from other humans. So what? Do you think I care? Do you think I was going to stand here and watch you die?”

  Ayame raised a hand, wiped it across her mouth, cleaning the blood.

  “The healers would have saved my life if you had just taken me to the infirmary. There was no need for this to happen.”

  “They might have saved you, but there’s no need to take chances. This changes nothing, Ayame. Damn it, don’t be so stubborn.” He swallowed; he had a lump in his throat. “Don’t be so stubborn. If you die, I won’t forgive you.”

  She looked back at him as if she were seeing him for the first time.

  The wind blew across the field and in the distance, birds sang. Tara stood to one side, still as a statue, just watching. Vincent wondered what she was thinking.

  “I’m sorry,” Ayame said, very slowly.

  “No, you don’t have to cry for me.”

  Vincent raised a hand, wiping away his tears before they fell.

  “You’re my friend,” he said simply.

  At least until you realize what I really am, he thought.

  Ayame approached and gave him a tight hug, burying her head in his chest. She took a deep breath, slowly and hesitantly. Vincent hugged her back, stroking her hair and back.

  The vampiress’s grip tightened, her nails digging into his back. She was small, soft, and warm. She had to stand on her tiptoes to hug him properly. Vincent swallowed; Ayame had been on the verge of death. Just a few minutes ago, in his arms, she had been truly on the verge of death.

  Vampires were called the undead, spat out like a curse. But even for them, there was no turning back. Death was death.

  Ayame was vulnerable. Yes, she was only afraid of being hurt. Like me, he thought.

  ***

  They went to collect the reward. Vincent felt it was too little, after the headaches they had had to face. But he had no energy to argue about it.

  The rules were the rules. He highly doubted bargaining was allowed, or that they would accept the deal in any case.

  So, after receiving the reward, they went back to their den: their small, but warm and cozy room.

  “I’d like to take a shower,” Ayame murmured, without looking at them. “Do you mind if I go first?”

  They shook their heads.

  Vincent supposed Ayame saw it out of the corner of her eye. Or felt it. Or maybe she hadn’t cared about the answer anyway. Maybe she wasn’t in a condition to listen yet. And she still needed space, time to organize her thoughts.

  He hoped a good shower would be enough to make her feel a bit more normal.

  Vincent could hear the sound of Ayame taking off her clothes on the other side of the door. But afterwards, the sound of running water took a while to come. The sound of the shower water running took a while to come.

  He wondered what she had been doing in the meantime, what kind of things might have been going through her head.

  He supposed he had no way of knowing. They hadn’t been together that long, not that much time had passed since they met.

  Vincent let himself fall onto his bed and took off his armor piece by piece.

  Then Tara spoke:

  “What you did out there... you saved her life. You were very brave.”

  Vincent stopped.

  “Brave... it’s not about that. I was afraid of losing her, nothing more.”

  “Can one be brave without feeling fear?” Tara replied.

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “I know you would have done the same if I hadn’t acted first.”

  “You’re a good girl, Tara. A good friend.”

  “I think so, I think so.”

  After a while that, to be honest, felt quite long, he heard the water stop and a little later Ayame came out of the shower. Changed, of course.

  A simple white dress contrasted with the black stockings that hugged her slender legs. She was a beauty. She would shine in anything she wore, but it wasn't the time to say something like that, of course. Besides, he was nobody to judge.

  His perspective as a village boy was quite limited. Ayame was a real beauty, of course. Only a blind person would say otherwise. You'd have to be blind not to notice.

  But well, she was the first pretty girl he had ever seen in his life. So, what did his words count for?

  Apart from my mom, of course, he thought. Damn, I'm a bit of an idiot.

  “I’m not dangerous,” Ayame said with her head down. “There’s no risk of me losing control and trying to hurt you. No, it doesn’t work like that.”

  He didn’t know; he knew very little about vampires, but he didn’t care if she hurt him or not. He was more worried about what happened to her.

  “We’re a team,” Vincent said simply. “Nothing will change that.”

  At least, I hope so, he thought, even after you unlock my abilities.

  Vincent swallowed.

  He didn't regret it, of course not. But he felt on the edge of a precipice, anyway.