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"Does it hurt your… what do you call them, the people you… um… you know?"
"I think prey is the word you're looking for. And no, it doesn't hurt them, any more than it hurt you."
"But you take more from them, do you not? You said you took only a little from me."
"Yes, I take more. But not all."
"And it is all right for you to do this? They never complain?"
"They never remember."
"Why not?"
"I wipe the memory from their minds when I'm done."
Brenna shook her head. "So, you are a vampire, a sorcerer, and a hypnotist, as well?"
"Just a vampire."
She looked at him for a moment and then, to his surprise, she began to giggle.
"What's so funny?"
"Just a vampire? Just a vampire?" Her giggles turned to full-blown laughter. "You say it as if it is so… so… ordinary." Her laughter trailed off as she lifted a hand to her neck.
Roshan went suddenly still, his gaze following the movement of her hand, watching as her fingers probed the skin behind her ear. The scent of her blood, flowing like a crimson river through her veins, filled his nostrils; the sound of her heartbeat echoed in his ears. The hunger stirred within him.
"Have you taken blood from me before and wiped the memory from my mind?"
"No." But now that she had planted the idea in his mind, he wondered if he would be able to resist doing just that. "You were going to go and change your clothes," he reminded her, his voice ragged. "Do it now."
She stared at him a moment. Whatever she saw in his face drove her to her feet and out of the room.
Upstairs, Brenna locked the door, even though she knew it would not keep him out. For a moment, she stood in the middle of the room, her heart pounding. How could she have been so foolish? She should have known better than to bring up the subject of how he fed, should have known it would arouse his hunger. But he had discussed it so calmly, and she couldn't deny being fascinated by it, and by him. Worse, she had almost asked him to drink from her again. What was the matter with her, that she was curious about such a repulsive act?
Her stomach growled again, reminding her that she was supposed to be changing her clothes to go out to dinner with Roshan. That was what he was doing now, she thought with morbid humor, going out to dinner. Who did he prey upon? How did he decide?
Putting the thought from her mind, she went to the closet and opened the door. She stood there a minute, trying to decide what to wear, and finally settled on a gauzy white blouse with a scoop neck and full sleeves, and a white skirt that was longer in the back than in the front. She wished there were a full-length mirror in the room so she could see how she looked. Perhaps the next time she went out, she would buy one. Perhaps Roshan would not mind. She wondered what it was like for him to look into a mirror and not see his image reflected back. She tried to imagine how she would feel in his place. Would it make her feel as if she didn't exist? Was that how it affected Roshan? Was that why there were no mirrors in the house?
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled on a pair of silky nylons and a pair of high-heeled white boots. She had never worn shoes or boots with such high heels and she wobbled a little as she walked into the bathroom to brush her hair.
Forty minutes later, she heard Roshan's knock on the door. He whistled softly when he saw her, chasing away any doubts she might have had about how she looked.
He took her to dinner at a quiet restaurant located in an upscale neighborhood.
Brenna glanced at her surroundings, marveling at the plush carpets, the beautiful paintings on the walls, the abundance of greenery, the distinct lack of mirrors.
Moments later, they were seated at a cozy table in a secluded corner near the back. The table was covered with a dark blue cloth. A small vase held three red roses.
Sitting across from Roshan, she opened the menu, and then she glanced at him. "I thought you did not eat… food?"
He glanced briefly at her neck. "I don't."
Wordlessly, she turned back to the menu. "I cannot decide what to have."
"I'm afraid you're on your own." It had been centuries since he'd dined on anything but a warm liquid diet.
When the waitress returned, Brenna ordered prime rib. Roshan ordered a bottle of red wine.
"If you can't eat food, how can you drink wine?" Brenna asked.
He shrugged. "A few sips is all I can tolerate."
"What happens when you eat?"
"You don't want to know." He had tried to eat a slice of brown bread smeared with butter and honey shortly after he had been made vampire. It had made him violently ill. He had not eaten solid food since, though there had been times when he had been tempted to try again. But that had been long ago. The thought of food no longer held any appeal. "So, what did you do today, besides go to the bookstore?"
"I began making a new wand, to replace the one I left behind. I cut a branch from one of the trees in the yard. I hope you do not mind."
"Of course not. Take anything you need."
"Thank you."
He sipped from his glass now and then while she ate, Brenna felt guilty for eating in front of him, and even more guilty for enjoying the meal. She couldn't believe he never tired of drinking blood. Even if he found it palatable, as he had claimed earlier, to dine on the same thing every night must surely grow tiresome after the first hundred years! As much as she loved chocolate malts, she wouldn't want to have to subsist on chocolate malts and nothing else for the rest of her life.
It was still raining when they left the restaurant Brenna lifted her face to the rain and licked the drops from her lips. Had she been back home, she would have shed her clothes and danced naked in the downpour.
Roshan helped her into the car, then slid behind the wheel. Moments later they were driving through the rain, the only sound the swish-swish of the windshield wipers and an occasional clap of thunder.
A short time later, he pulled into the driveway of his favorite Goth hangout, a small dance club called the Nocturne. A valet clad in a black suit and hooded cloak handed Brenna out of the car, then Roshan was there, taking her hand in his. They walked under a black canopy, then down a flight of stairs that led to a door that was carved with runes and magical creatures.
He opened the door for her and followed her inside.
The place was crowded even though it was after ten o'clock in the middle of the week. Brenna glanced around, her eyes wide as she took it all in. The first thing she noticed was that she was the only one not wearing black. Masks of all kinds decorated the walls, from voodoo masks to ancient Indian burial masks. Black candles flickered in wrought iron sconces, casting eerie shadows over the faces of the crowd. It was rather frightening, being in the midst of so many men and women clad in black. Most of them had black hair; a good number wore cloaks or capes with hoods. A woman at the bar laughed out loud, displaying shiny white fangs. Brenna couldn't help staring at the couples dancing on the floor, their bodies pressed close together as they swayed back and forth, their movements slow and sensual.
