I’m 168 years old. I can make my own decisions, I think as I stride across the crowded square. Are you sure? Amarok purrs into my head, and I clench my fists. I could do it for you, darling. I could take care of you again, have fun like we used to.

I continue on, my jaw tightening and paces lengthening. I am Davina Morvant. I am 168 years old. I am a self-sufficient vampire. I do not need a psychic werewolf to tell me what to do. Reaching the other side of the plaza, I shoulder my way into the butcher’s store. “My usual, please, James.” I give him a broad smile, ignoring Amorak’s insistent offers echoing through my mind. Shut up, Amorak, I finally snap. Again and again I have refused you. How many more times do we need to have this conversation?

Oh, so many times, m’dear. If I could, I would have it with you for eternity.