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Because no matter how many people I’d known in my long life, nothing had prepared me for how Maggie was always running from me. Or how I cared when she did.

Sex was sex.

Simple. Enjoyable. Casual.

And yet…

And yet.

I sat on the edge of the bed, gazing into Maggie’s room. From her bathroom, I could hear her soft voice. If I focused, I would be able to make out her conversation. But she clearly didn’t want to be heard. I had to respect her desire for privacy, even if it was frustrating not being able to understand why she kept trying to get away from me.

I’d never been a man who needed cuddling or conversation after sex.

Why, then, was that exactly what I was craving with Maggie?

I raked a hand through my hair as I heard the bathroom door creak open. There was a long pause. Then there she was, moving to stand in the doorway between rooms. She shifted her feet, her gaze fixed on my feet, as if she was trying to muster up her courage to look me in the eye.

“Want to have something to eat before it gets too cold?” I asked.

Her gaze snapped up. Her shoulders relaxed. “Depends.”

“On?”

“What you ordered.”

“The menu left much to be desired. But there was a pasta dish that sounded like it had potential.”

When I went over to roll the room service cart toward the bed, she took advantage of my turned back and slipped her shirt back on.

“Do you need to, um, drink?” she asked as she reached for her fork.

“Sustenance is more of a suggestion these days. The bloodlust I felt for the first hundred years or so has largely left me in its wake. I’m… sharper and calmer when I’ve fed, but it’s not necessary most of the time.”

“Huh. I didn’t realize it worked that way. But don’t you miss that dopamine hit? I mean, it’s got to be even stronger for you, right?”

“It can be. It hasn’t been like that for many years, though.”

“Really?” she asked. There was something off about her voice as she twirled her pasta. “Because you bit me.”

“Grazed,” I clarified. In my mind, I’d convinced myself that a graze was better than a bite, than feeding. Objectively, it was.

“Didn’t you say that it’s immoral to feed from someone?”

“Feeding, yes. Without the… sucking, there’s no release of hormones that risk you becoming addicted.”

“So, there’s no safe way to do it? If you were in a committed relationship? I mean… is it really that different from sex? They both release endorphins and oxytocin.”

“It would be like that, but times a hundred.”

“Right. But if you’re in a committed relationship… is it really that bad? I know, I know.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “You don’t believe in relationships and blah blah blah. Let’s be hypothetical here.”

“Hypothetically, if it were possible to truly commit to another being, then I can see it being acceptable.”

“What about if they change?”

“Change how?”

“What if the human decides to be turned? Does it still have the same effect?”