The humor vanished from his eyes, replaced by a sudden, intense shadow. "You should not be here, Isadora. You should be as far away from me as this island allows."
"I don't recall asking for your permission," she said softly.
"I hurt you."
"You saved yourself."
"I drank from you like an animal." His jaw tightened, the self-loathing etched into every line of his face. "I could have killed you. I remember… the taste. The difficulty in stopping. It was not noble, Isadora. It was gluttony."
"It was survival," she countered, leaning forward again, refusing to let him retreat into his guilt. "And I offered. You didn't take anything I didn't give."
Caelan looked at her, really looked at her, with an intensity that made the air in the room feel thin. "Why?"
"Because," Isadora said, her voice steady, "I pay my debts. You took the fire for me. I gave you blood. We are even."
