I finish my shower quickly, borrowing soap and shampoo to wash. I note, unamused, that his blue v-neck and sweatpants fit me a little too comfortably. Loose enough to be casual, not so loose as to fall off me.

Wiping the fog from the mirror so I can brush out my hair, I pause as my reflection comes into focus and, for the first time since the attack, I actually see myself.

No wonder he had seemed so concerned. I look like death.

My skin is pale, and dark circles sit heavy and swollen under my tired, dulled eyes. Shoulder length, light brown hair hangs limp around my face, and my lips are dry and cracked, probably from being dehydrated.

Reaching up, I trace one of my cheekbones, never before so prominent, then follow the line of my neck to trace the edge of the bandage still taped there.

Tentatively, I pull the gauze from my skin to examine the damage.

It isn't as bad as I had thought it would be. In fact, the worst of it is the ugly, hand-sized bruise that stretches halfway up my neck and partway down my collar.

The wound itself consists of two deep punctures which, surprisingly, have already mostly healed.

There will be a scar, no doubt, which pisses me off. The idea of being permanently marked by that monster is disgusting.

On the other hand, I suppose I should be grateful I'm not dead.

But still.

Yuck.

For a moment, I'm back in the alley, the fire burning through my body as the revenant sucks my life from me. I absently raise a hand to cover the wound as it throbs with the memory.

How could I have been so reckless?

If it weren't for the not-quite-a-vampire, I would be dead and Julian would be lost to the Order forever.

That is, if he's still alive...

—No. I can't think like that.

Julian is alive. I will find him.

A quick stop off by the bedroom to discard my blood-stained clothes, hang my bra—which I had washed in the sink—to dry, and grab the tray, then I head back into the kitchen where the wonderful smells of dinner call to my stomach.

"Mm, that smells great," I say, stepping into the kitchen. "What did you make?"

I set the tray on the counter next to the sink, then reclaim my seat at the table, combing my fingers through my damp hair.

"Pasta with homemade tomato sauce," he says, turning off the stove and setting the table with plates piled high with spaghetti.

"Damn, Master Chef. Do you normally go through this much work to make dinner?" Picking up a fork, I twirl it into the noodles realizing only then how ravenous I am.

He laughs, a light chuckle that I find more appealing than I'd like to admit. "Not all the time. But I figured tonight is something of a special occasion given that you've lived to eat another day."

He eyes my neck as he says this, wincing slightly at the intensity of the bruise there.

Noticing where his gaze falls, I absently raise a hand to cover the two punctures.

"I guess I have you to thank for that." And, in a rare show of civility, I beam my brightest smile at him. "Thank you for saving me... oh, I never got your name..."

He smiles back at me, warm, and offers a hand across the table. "Jonah."

Taking his outstretched hand in my own, I give it a light shake, "Lillian. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," he echoes, dropping my hand to pick up his fork.

"Mm, this is amazing," I say around a mouthful pasta. And, honestly, it is.

The question is why is it so good? I'm fairly certain vampires don't need human food to survive, so why bother learning how to cook?

"Thanks," he says, smiling softly. "I'm glad you like it."

We eat in silence for a while. Two strangers just learning how to exist in each other's space doing all the awkward communicating for both of us.

"You know," he says once we're mostly through eating, "you're a lot nicer when you're not shoving me into walls."

"Speaking of shoving people into walls, how is it exactly that you managed to take out that revenant? You said he must have been important, which probably means he was older."

I pause to tap my fork to my lips as I ponder further.

"And if he was old and important, he was probably also pretty strong. Add that to the fact that you literally pulled him from my neck and I have no idea how you could have done it."

He peers at me from behind the edge of his glass of water.

"You said you weren't a vampire, but your eyes glow," I continue. "Which means you can't be human."

I stare at him from across the table, trying to piece it together even as he sits before me, but still coming up short.

"So, what, exactly, are you?"

He chews slowly, then swallows as he thinks about how to answer me. Shrugging, he puts down his fork and meets my stare. "I'm a dhampir."

The word hangs between us as the silence stretches.

"I'm sorry, you're a what?"

"A dhampir. It's what they call children born from a human and a vampire." Satisfied with his explanation, he picks his fork back up and finishes his plate.

I, on the other hand, drop my fork. It clatters loudly between us onto my half-empty plate.

"I didn't even know that was possible! How does that even work? Do you need to drink blood? Can vampires even have sex with humans? Like, do they have all the right parts?"

Deciding that I must be done eating, Jonah stands from the table and clears the plates to the kitchen, then reaches into the fridge to grab two beers, handing one to me as he makes his way into the living room.

I follow him, popping the top of my drink and sitting down on one end of the couch. Jonah sits down at the other end and gives me a doubtful look as I turn to face him eagerly.

"Why don't you start by telling me what you know about vampires," he says, twisting the top from his own beer. "Then I can fill in the gaps."