When he heard those words come from her lips, he was overcome with a mix of rage and sorrow. But he shook it off. His hands slowly moved up her sides to take her hands, holding her down under him. But unlike his brethren, who would have grabbed her by the wrist and pinned her down hard, his fingers laced with hers, gently pressing. He was fatigued and hungry, but something deep inside him forced him not to feed from her. Or use her for his own pleasure.
"The last thing I remember..." He whispered softly, eyes still locked on hers. "...Before waking up here, is my head hitting something hard, and a scream from a voice like yours. I know you from somewhere, but the image and name teeters on the edge of my memory. Please... help me..." Many vampires would have commended him on the ploy, but it wasn't one. He was starting to feel alone and helpless from her denial of him, like a integral part had been ripped from him. He was still laying on her, but he had arched his body enough that he wasn't pressing roughly against her, his hips pulled away, though his hands still held hers.