Page 70 of Savage Thirst

I shake my head. "I held my ground. Barely, but I did. Kayden, however…" My voice tightens. "He struggled. It overtook him. I don't think he ever forgave himself for what he did. Or me for dragging him out of it. I pulled him off the field when I realized the battle, and Fiona's dream, were lost."

She nods, her expression warm. "That's a difficult burden. For both of you."

"Yes," I say and pause for a moment before continuing. "The military made sense to me. Always did. Structure, discipline, rules—all of it helped to deal with what I've become. The bloodshed didn't bother me, I could manage the thirst. So I served. Different uniforms. Different centuries. But always the same order."

She watches me with more intensity now. "What changed in Vietnam?"

I let the silence sit a moment.

"The war itself," I say. "I suppose it started to change after the Great War. But Vietnam… it broke something."

I draw in a breath, not needing air, just the habit.

"I tried to help civilians. I tried not to betray the men under my command. But it was impossible to do both. And then there was Tomas. He served under me. He saw what I was, figured it out on his own. His family knew about creatures like us. Still, he risked everything to save my life."

Her eyes soften. She knows what that costs.

"When I turned him, I gave him what little I knew. Tried to teach him control. But the truth is, I didn't really understand why I'd always been able to hold the bloodlust back. I hadtheories, but not answers. Tomas… he made it work. He survived, found his way back."

"Did you go back with him?" she asks.

I shake my head. "No. I stayed for a while longer. But eventually, I couldn't pretend anymore. Couldn't keep the uniform on and keep lying to the men around me. So I waited."

A pause.

"The Tet offensive was the right kind of chaos. The VC poured into the cities and attacked the bases. I walked out of the base and through the peaceful countryside. I walked all the way to Laos. Found a monastery by accident. Just one monk living there. He knew what I was the moment he saw me."

"He didn't try to kill you?"

"No," I say. "He just handed me a broom."

She tilts her head, smiling.

"Sweeping floors. Fixing rooftops. No lessons. No sermons. Just quiet work. I don't even know why I stayed at first. But something kept me there."

"A spiritual awakening?" she asks, one brow arched.

"Yeah." I let out a low breath. "I know it sounds like something from a fortune cookie, but that's what it was."

She watches me closely as I speak, and I find I don't mind it.

"I read the scriptures. Prayed. Cleaned the temple from top to bottom every day. I only left to hunt wild animals for blood. No humans. Eventually, the monk—still don't know his name, I never asked—he started testing me."

"Testing how?"

"He'd bait me," I say, the memory returning with an odd fondness. "Offered his own blood. Not overtly, but close enough. Every time I moved toward it, he'd smack me in the head with a stick. Say something in Lao I never quite understood. Then he'd do it again. And again."

Her eyes are wide now, and she's trying not to laugh.

"But slowly… it changed something in me. His strange, infuriating guidance helped me find a path inward. I stopped fighting the instinct by force. I released it. Let go of the constant tension. Not just the thirst, but the identity that came with it."

I look at her fully.

"And more than that, I learned how to explain it. How to teach it."

She's quiet, her expression serious.

"One day, he just kicked me out. Literally shoved me out of the temple and closed the door behind me."