Mourning
In retrospect, Briggs had always loved his freedom. The fact that he was not bound to any person, any place, or any thing. That had been tested with Anna, but his feelings for her had never threatened his freedom. He was with her because he was free, not because he had to be. Briggs was, in all ways, without a burden. He had his complete freedom.
And now he had lost the thing he loved the most.
The wet sensation of blood eased across his lips, along his tongue and down his throat. The taste followed a moment later. The deluge came next.
The memories flooded through, the sheer force of their passing threatened to tear his mind apart at the seams. From his first breath to the feeling of the chalice on his lips, his existence was replaying itself. There was an unforgiving clarity to it to exposed every detail to his mind. He was a victim to the truths he had hidden away behind self assuredness and pride. The gravity of it challenged his ability to maintain himself.
And then there was Giselle.
He watched an unfamiliar childhood unfold, HIS childhood now. He knew parents he had never met, but had perfect recollections of. When they died, he mourned. The tears he cried were real, only now they were blood. Little by little, the life of Giselle became his own as she lived her life in his mind, as memories that were as real to him as any he'd forged himself.
In the end, he collapsed. Kenzie hadn't been joking when she warned him. His mind was a garbled mess now. He was struggling to isolate the moments of his life from those of Giselle. He decided to simply move forward and let his mind sort them out over time.
As he rose, he looked to her. There was familiarity there, now. Someone he had just met was closer to him than anyone he'd ever known. Closer than his own sire. He was bound to her now, in a way he would never be bound to another.
He had lost the thing he'd loved the most, and in its place was Giselle.