Ambrose dreamed a memory:
He came out of his first blood high.
Heart beat too fast.
Breathing too fast.
Can’t catch breath.
He looked down at his victim.
And his breath stopped.
He laid him on the floor. Maybe that will help. Maybe he’ll wake up. Maybe…
But his father’s eyes remained blank and unseeing. And his heart remained so still.
Tears filled Ambrose’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t. I’m sorry.” He hugged his father’s body. “I’ll never do it again. I promise I won’t. Open your eyes. See me. See. Father, see.” His father’s scent faded with his body heat.
And Ambrose knew.
His father wasn’t changed.
His father was dead.
And it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t…If I…If..
He held his father a little tighter and sobbed.
A whole blend of scents hit him as the servant girl returned with a group of strong looking men. “See? There he is.”
Ambrose looked up at them. I should let them take me away. I deserve it.
The men barged towards him.
Something clicked wrong inside his head. He rose to his feet and smiled, baring his fangs. “Let’s dance.”