Marcus being chained had made it all much easier. Divine hadn’t had to hit him with the tire iron again after that, which was definitely a good thing. Every time she’d hit him, she’d given the nanos in his body more damage to repair, which meant more blood needed. She’d been creating something of a vicious circle that way.
“I’m having some unpleasant memories,” Marcus said tentatively.
Divine glanced to him at that comment, and then turned forward again. “I’m not surprised. Being broiled in an RV can’t be pleasant.”
“No, not about that,” he said quietly. “These memories are kind of fuzzy, but I—did I attack people?”
Divine grimaced. If he had switched to bagged blood when it first came out, it meant he hadn’t hunted much since the advent of blood banks. She doubted he was used to it anymore. What was more, though, was that his feedings had been rather horrific. He really had been mindless. If he’d been aware of his donors as living beings, it had been hard to tell by the way he’d ripped into their flesh. She could hardly say that to him though, so said instead, “I brought you donors, and yes, you were a bit enthusiastic, but that was to be expected after what you’d gone through.”
“So I didn’t hurt anyone?” he asked with a frown.
“I controlled your donors for you. They won’t remember anything,” she assured him quietly.
“So I did hurt them,” he said unhappily.
Divine hesitated. “They will all be fine. You took a little more blood than I was comfortable with from the first donor, but that was my fault. I should have expected that reaction. You were in serious need and a great deal of pain. Besides, when I couldn’t get you to release her, I . . . er . . .” She sighed and admitted, “I bashed you over the head with a tire iron.”
She sense rather than saw the sharp glance he turned on her.
“It worked,” she said unapologetically. “You released her and it was in time. She is probably a little weak and anemic this morning, but otherwise fine.”
Marcus cursed and sank unhappily back in his seat. When she glanced to him in question, he grimaced. “I remember it now. I acted like an animal.” He stared out the window with dissatisfaction for a moment and then shifted uncomfortably and said, “It’s disturbing to realize just how thin the veneer of civilization is. We’re really just animals under the polite face we offer society.”
“It isn’t just us. Starve a mortal for a week or two and then give him a chicken leg and he’ll eat like an animal too, tearing at the flesh, fluids running down his cheeks, hands soaked in grease,” she said quietly. “Survival is a strong instinct . . . You didn’t do anything to be ashamed of.”
Marcus was silent for a moment and then sighed out the words, “Thank you.”
Divine glanced at him with surprise. “For what now?”
“For . . . everything,” he said with a weary smile.
“Even mopping you in the groin?” she asked with amusement.
“Well, that I could have done without,” Marcus said with a crooked smile. “But I did deserve it.” He turned to peer at her through the dark interior of the car. “Where were you when the fire started?”
“In town,” she admitted, and her mouth tightened. “I came back to find the RV fully engulfed by flames and carnies running around trying to beat the fire back from the door far enough to get in and search for me.”
“They would have done that?” Marcus asked with amazement.
“Carnies are like family,” Divine said quietly, and then her lips tipped with a crooked smile and she added, “A totally dysfunctional one maybe, but—”