Wren's trying his best to ward off the urge to feed at the sight of blood. His fingers tremble against your wrist, nursing your wound the best he could.

"I'm sorry," He says, meek. Wren doesn't want to hurt you. After years of isolation, he couldn't be happier after you stumbled upon his manor during a storm.

He glances up at you with a gentle frown. Wren doesn't like seeing you hurt, even if it was on accident. He doesn't want to suddenly lose control and do something he might regret.