// Hannah //

When Hannah wakes, still dressed in her clothes from last night, she finds Catherine standing beside the bed. Seeing her mistress her friend brings out emotions she has felt for some time — fondness, attraction, trust — combined with something new, a deep sense of devotion and need that her mind can’t quite find the right concepts to make sense of. “Last night was real, wasn’t it?” She brushes the side of her neck, but finds no evidence of the incisions she remembers so vividly. “I remember I told you I knew your secret, and then you bit me and poured your blood down my throat.” And it was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced, she doesn’t say.

“It was. I’m sorry that taking your freedom was the best option.”

“Don’t be,” Hannah says as she sits up. “I thought something like this was going to happen, and I went into it willingly.”

“I’m relieved that you seem to be adjusting better than I expected. Newly-taken thralls usually can’t form coherent thoughts at all. Maybe you were right that choosing it makes all the difference.”

“What happens next? What are we to each other?”

“Traditionally, thralls are property, like livestock or slaves, but I promise I won’t do that to you. Even though you’re magically bound to me, I’d like to say that we’re still friends”

“Just friends who drink each others’ blood...”

“There is that. I won’t need to hunt as often now that I have you.”

Hannah makes a worried expression.

“I swear to you, I’ve never killed,” Catherine reassures her. “I’ve assaulted people and taken their blood and their memories of me, but I’ve been careful not to harm my prey. But I agree it’s not ideal, and I’m glad to be able to hunt less now.”

“We’ll find a better long-term solution for your diet. For now, are you thirsty? Because my body is telling me to give you my blood,” she says as she gets out of bed.

“If you’re willing.” Catherine takes Hannah’s hand and lifts it to her mouth. She bites down on her forearm, just below the wrist. Hannah feels a painful but brief pinch as the fangs open up her veins and then retract again. Catherine keeps holding on with her human-like teeth, maintaining a secure grasp on Hannah’s arm as she drinks the blood that flows out of it.

Hannah just watches Catherine’s face. This feels right, like there’s nothing more natural than letting a woman drink her blood, but even more than that, Hannah is focused on Catherine, on the look of pleasure and satisfaction she shows. It’s nice to be looked at like that, even in such strange circumstances.

When Catherine lets go, the wound has somehow already healed, although blood is still trickling down Hannah’s skin and onto her hand. “Let me clean that up for you.” Catherine steps away and returns quickly from the washroom with a damp rag. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asks as she wipes up the remaining blood.

“Just hold me,” she says, vaguely recalling the way she was embraced the previous night. Catherine hugs her, and Hannah feels impossibly cozy despite the vampire’s skin being a fair amount colder than her own body temperature.

“You’re so good,” Catherine tells her. “Absolutely delicious, on top of being kind and intelligent and recklessly brave.”

Noticing the way she reacts to those words, Hannah realizes what she’s feeling, the way the thrall-magic has manifested in her. She’s in love.