Dawn Walker - Chapter 246: Questions and Answers II
Chapter 246: 246: Questions and Answers II
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Lily smiled in relief, then continued at once, “Do you need blood all the time?”
The humor faded from his face, though not into darkness this time. Into honesty.
“No,” he said. “Not constantly. Not like an animal with no mind. But hunger is real. It can become strong. Stronger after battle. Stronger after using certain abilities. Stronger during blood awakening changes.”
Lily listened carefully.
“And if you do not drink?”
“I weaken over time. My control becomes worse. The blood god Will inside me becomes harder to manage.”
Her mouth parted slightly. “Blood god will…”
Sekhmet nodded once. “That part is still… developing.”
“That is a terrible word to use for something called blood god will.”
“I am aware.”
Lily looked at him for a long second. “Does it hurt?”
The question surprised him enough that he showed it.
“When the hunger rises?”
“Yes.”
He thought about it.
“Sometimes. Not always physically. It is more like pressure.” His hand curled unconsciously, remembering. “Like something inside me pressing against restraint. The more blood I have taken, the more it changes. The more I awaken, the more it becomes part of me rather than just something happening to me.”
Lily’s gaze softened again. “That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
“Have you been dealing with that alone?”
Sekhmet did not answer quickly.
Lily exhaled softly. “That means yes.”
“There was not exactly a handbook.”
She looked briefly offended on his behalf. “There should be. If old power houses are hiding gods and vampires, the least they could do is prepare better reading material.”
“Perhaps there is one in the Middle Domain.”
“Steal or find it when your family reunion becomes violent.”
He almost smiled again.
Lily went quiet for a moment, then asked the question more carefully. “When you drank from Alex…”
Sekhmet’s body was still.
“I know,” she said immediately. “I know that is ugly. But I need to understand.”
His eyes lowered briefly. The memory came back too easily. Warm blood flooding his mouth. Ancient power. The terrible pleasure of a hunger that stopped pretending to be hunger and admitted it was violence.
“It was not planned like that,” he said at last.
“You were trying to survive.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
He searched for words precise enough not to lie and not to drown in their own ugliness.
“His blood was too strong,” he said. “Too refined. It hit me like flames and storms together. Once it entered me, the bloodlust spiked. My mind kept my target lock from breaking. That is why no one else died.” He looked at her again. “But Alex…” His jaw tightened. “Once I tasted his throat, the fight was over even before his body understood it.”
Lily swallowed.
She did not flinch.
“Did you want to stop?”
Sekhmet was silent for a second too long.
Then he answered honestly.
“Part of me did.”
“And the other part?” She asked.
“The other part wanted everything.”
That line sat between them for a while.
Lily’s face had gone paler again, but there was still no retreat in her stance. Only understanding moving through discomfort rather than around it.
“Thank you for telling me plainly,” she said.
“You are taking this very well.”
“No,” she said. “I am taking this honestly. There is a difference.”
He frowned faintly.
Lily continued, “If I pretended none of this frightened me at all, that would be a lie. Some parts do frighten me. But the fear is about what hunger does to you, not about me suddenly deciding you are some stranger wearing your face.”
That hit him harder than he expected. Because it was exactly right.
She was not denying the danger. She was simply refusing to reduce him to it.
His body felt lighter by another small degree.
Lily noticed everything, so of course she noticed that too.
“Now,” she said, “more questions.”
He sighed. “Of course.”
“Can you create more vampires?”
His gaze shifted slightly.
“That answer worries me already,” she said.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“How?”
“Not easily.”
“That is still yes.”
“Yes.”
Lily stared at him. “Can you turn anyone?”
“No. There are conditions. Restrictions. Strength limits. Gender restrictions for one creation path.” He paused. “And it changes them.”
She blinked. “Gender restrictions?”
“It is complicated.”
She put both hands over her face for one second and laughed in helpless disbelief. “Of course it is. Why would anything in your life be cleanly horrifying when it can be intricately horrifying?”
He looked offended for form’s sake. “That is unfair.”
“It is extremely fair.”
He let that one go.
Lily lowered her hands again. “Can the twins become… more powerful?”
“Yes.”
“Because of your blood?”
“Yes.”
“Do they know what they are becoming?”
His expression turned more serious. “Not fully. Not yet. But they know enough to understand that the bond is real.”
“Do they regret it?”
He thought of the twins. Their loyalty. Their fear. Their eagerness. Their own growing strangeness.
“No,” he said quietly. “I do not think so.”
Lily studied him carefully. “And do you?”
That question he had not expected.
“Regret what?”
“What you are becoming.”
He went still.
The room waited.
He looked toward the window before answering, because some questions could not be looked at directly while they were being spoken.
“I regret the parts that hurt people,” he said. “I regret the fear. The hunger. The violence when it slips its leash.” His voice lowered. “But the strength itself? No. I cannot honestly say no to strength when strength is the only reason I am still alive.”
Lily nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
He looked back at her. “I was weaker before.”
“I know.”
“I would have died already if I had stayed that weak inside the cave.”
“I know that too.”
“And now…”
He stopped.
Lily waited.
“Now I am becoming something old and dangerous enough that even half-gods notice.”
Lily’s face softened. “And you are still trying not to become cruel with it.”
He did not answer.
Because yes.
That was the center of it.
Not whether he was dangerous.
He knew he was.
Whether danger would eventually eat the rest.
