We went walking almost nightly
after that. The only nights we didn’t was when Drei had other things to do, but
then he’d let me open the windows in the apartment and do as I liked, so long
as I didn’t leave. He still wasn’t sure why I wasn’t constantly hungry anymore,
and didn’t want something to happen when he wasn’t there. I didn’t hold his
worries against him; I loved him, and somewhat knew how he could be before I
told him as much. Despite everything in our past—the fights, the separation,
the disagreements—I couldn’t fathom loving anyone else as much as I did him.
Before Drei had come to some
conclusion about my hunger “issue,” I had guessed it was heavily rooted in my
element; it was the only thing that really made sense considering how intense
it was now. His conclusion reflected this.
“Your element and your vampire
inhabit the same space, obviously,” Drei said one evening at breakfast. “It
makes sense they would share everything else, including your nutrition. When
your element is sated, which happens when it is being actively used as much as
I can tell, your vampire is also sated.”
“But not vice versa?” I asked.
“No, because your element cannot
draw nutrients as your vampire does.”
“So how does my element draw
nutrients?” That was the concept I didn’t understand. Drei shrugged in response;
because he didn’t have an answer, I still had to drink a mug of animal blood
once a week to ensure I was receiving all of the nutrients I needed. Though I
had grown accustomed to the taste, it wasn’t something I had learned to enjoy
consuming.
It took a long time for me to
figure it out, but I eventually did discover how my element drew nutrients. When
we went walking, my element automatically began exploring everything, reaching
out to hear, see, and feel various things and people in the surrounding area;
by doing this, my element was extracting energy from people, plants, animals,
sound, anything and everything, basically. It never drew so much from any one
thing to be disruptive, but it drew enough that by the end of our walk, I had
nutrition enough to fulfill my needs.
I thought about telling Drei,
but he seemed satisfied enough having pieced together what he had. Besides, I
doubted it would dissuade him from my weekly blood requirement.
Oftentimes, I would fall asleep
in Drei’s arms around sunrise, though I knew he would leave again to wait for
his phone calls. Part of me was concerned with how many calls he had been
taking lately, considering he’d never been much for chatting. I chose to trust
him. If it continued on much longer, I would ask about it again, I decided. I
had a right to know, and it would be better to ask than to do nothing and let
the nerves build until they exploded. We had already been there once before; I
didn’t think either of us was too keen on revisiting.
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