18
The fence looked great, so Victorian. It suited the house very well and it reminded me of the wrought iron fence my family once had. This was some comfort.
I looked at Adrian, his pale face beaming up at me, but his eyes weren’t how they should be—clear, focused. He needed to feed and I wasn’t sure how that was going to go down.
“Adrian, when was the last time you fed?”
“I don’t remember, why?”
“Because you look hungry, that’s why. I think I’ll have Kane take you hunting.” When I said that, all hell broke loose.
“I don’t want blood!” he screamed.
Kane came rushing in. “What’s going on now?” Desperation seeped in his voice and I could understand his feelings; it was a bit draining on me as well.
“Adrian doesn’t want to feed and he needs it,” I said.
“I can see that.” Kane did lo
