Natasha guesses it's nerves, but she's committed now. She doesn't know that she trusts Cesare to be true to his word. It's easy for her to imagine him letting her go too far and holding it over her head in the future.

But his assurance is what she's got. She doesn't intend to lose control, but who does.

Gently, she takes the girl's wrist and turns it up, her eyes going to the blue veins visible through the skin. It's almost an effort, in a weird way, to relax enough to let her fangs descend. She's been fighting the urge so long that it's become habit. Or maybe it's fear of what will happen next.

It does happen though, with a sigh, and she lifts the girl's wrist to her lips.