Page 67 of Caller of Crows

"Anything."

"Don't blame yourself for this."

Sven tried for a smile, but the corners of his mouth didn't even move.

He was supposed to be the strong one, but it seemed his mother was the one keeping him together.

"Promise me," Katya urged.

"I promise," he whispered, even though he was aware of how empty the words were.

He couldn't help but feel guilty. If he hadn't taken so long, if he hadn't wasted his time trying to convince Altair to turn him, maybe his mother would still be alright.

Maybe he could have found another way to save her.

Katya didn't seem to believe that, though. She smiled up at him, her expression serene.

The only thing Sven could do for her now was stay, and that was what he did.

He stayed with her until the end.

Until her eyes closed and her breathing grew weaker, and eventually, stopped.

Only then did the tears spill from his eyes, and then they didn't stop. They kept flowing, and Sven did nothing to stem the tide.

* * *

Being denied entry into the hospital room had come as no surprise to Altair. People didn't trust vampires—and why would they?

Many vampires abused their powers, used them to get what they wanted, and there wasn't anything Altair could do about that. After all, it wasn't like he was innocent himself. Hehadcaptured Sven and taken him prisoner. The nurses had no way of knowing that, but that didn't make his crimes any less true.

It didn't make him any more repentant either.

Leaning against the hood of his car, he looked up at the hospital building.

Would the mortal be okay in there?

He wanted to think so, but Sven's emotions had been raw, his pain palpable. Altair was well aware of the fact that the mortal blamed himself. He didn't see his mother's passing as it was: a chain of unfortunate events outside his control.

He saw it as a personal failure, and that was tearing him apart. Altair didn't have to read the mortal's mind to know that.

Idly, he wondered if Sven would use the feather he'd been given and call him into the hospital room to plead with Altair once again. If Sven turned to him with tears in his eyes, begging him to solve his problems, Altair wasn't sure what he would do. It was a truth that disturbed him. He wasn't supposed to be this vulnerable, this susceptible to the whims of a mortal.

But here he was, waiting and hoping that Sven would reach out and terrified of what that would mean at the same time.

Foolish, a voice whispered at the back of his mind.

Altair knew his fascination with the mortal was unhealthy. He'd known it from the start, and yet, he couldn't stay away from Sven, couldn't help himself when the mortal was offering himself up on a silver platter.

Altair closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

He could still smell Sven's scent on his skin, taste his blood in his mouth. The memory of the mortal writhing underneath him made Altair's cock swell with lust.

Damn it.

He was a disaster.

A complete disaster.