Free Vampire Instinct by Joey W. Hill Page B

sentiment.
    He gave her a sharp look. “While they’ve learned to mask emotion or rational thought, the ability to speak, I don’t believe they are incapable of it. They’ve just done what brutalized slaves or prisoners have done for centuries. Figured out other ways to communicate. They use a subtle form of sign language in front of others, and likely talk to each other when they’re alone. If they are capable of trust, they may become more interactive.”
    “I’ve . . . I’ve never noticed that.”
    “It’s often done in movements too quick for human eyes to follow. And subtle enough to even be missed by a vampire who’s not looking for it.”
    She thought about Jeremiah, how often she’d seen something she’d interpreted as a burning desire to communicate, to tell her something. Though she encouraged him to speak, he never would. He simply looked at the others and shook his head, shuffling to the back of his cage in the barn.
    “How long will they be caught in transition?”
    “It depends.” He sighed, ran a hand over the back of his neck, an unexpected gesture of agitation, as if something bothered him. It sharpened Elisa’s attention on him, though she was hanging on every word already. “Bloodlust seizures are like when you have too much energy to spare and can’t sit still, magnified a hundred times, and coupled with an overwhelming desire to draw blood.” His glance suggested he thought it unlikely she knew, at least of late, what it was like to have an overabundance of energy. Elisa couldn’t deny it, but she sat up straighter in the chair. “Since we know at least William and Matthew should be getting past those now, something has gotten hung up, developmentally.”
    “Maybe your work with them will help them get past that.”
    He arched a brow at her forced, bright tone and Elisa told herself to be quiet. Fiercely.
    “Victor was different,” he continued. “From Danny’s notes, it appeared the seizures became more and more violent, until he integrated that killer instinct into his personality. It was no longer an episode, but what he was. Leonidas appears to be on a similar track, according to what you’ve said about the frequency of the attacks. And Jeremiah—”
    “He does it a lot less than Leonidas. When they happen, he fights it, trying to keep himself under control. Sometimes he manages it.”
    “If what happened to Victor is happening to Leonidas and Jeremiah, then it’s fairly inevitable. Enduring it year after year will take its toll.”
    “You can’t predict anything like that,” she insisted. “The children are all different.” At his warning look, she pressed her lips together. “The fledglings. They’re so different in how they react to things, different levels of emotion . . .”
    “Elisa, I know you wish to help—”
    “I can help.”
    “Not if you keep interrupting me.”
    She’d been used to having her opinion counted for so much more with Danny and Dev. She didn’t want to feel animosity toward Mal—she really didn’t—and she knew he just needed to get to know her, but to do that, he had to give her the opportunity to prove her value, right?
    “You are proving it, by following my direction. I expect when you entered Lady Danny’s household, you had to do that for a while before she trusted your judgment, correct?”
    Her cheeks burned. Apparently, he did sometimes listen in.
    “Somewhat. Part of it is your face. You’re pouting.”
    That burning became outright mortification. “I am not.” But then she touched her mouth and found it had in fact shaped itself into such a disagreeable shape. She tucked her lips tightly together, surprised to see a faint trace of amusement cross his face. “I do take your point, sir,” she said. “I will work to prove myself worthy of your trust.”
    He blinked at her. “You almost managed to keep the scorn out of your voice that time, Irish flower.”
    “Perhaps, with all due respect, Mr. Mal—sir, I have