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He gives a slight nod. “I do. Our taste is heightened. Good food is amazing. Bad food will turn off your appetite for weeks. You learn to be very particular about what you consume, but one of the finest things in life is enjoying a good meal, accompanied by good alcohol, and then maybe a cigar.”
“And then blood.”
He tilts his head as he studies me through the smoke, eyes drifting over my nose, my mouth. “Food is for enjoyment. But it doesn’t keep us alive. Blood does.”
“But you enjoy…it.”
“That’s an understatement. And you enjoy it, too.” He takes the cigar from his mouth and places it in the ashtray. “Amethyst was scared of you today, and she doesn’t get that easily spooked. Guess there’s something about you that made her want to run the other way.”
“I was nice,” I say softly.
“Nice,” he says with a dry laugh, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “None of this is about being nice. You smelled her. I know you did because I used to smell her too. Candied ginger, sweet things, like her blood. Correct?”
I don’t say anything, all the pleasant buzz from the cigar disappearing like the wavering smoke.
“You didn’t just want a taste of her, you wanted to feed. It’s your bloodlust, the final stage, it’s just a lot more tempered than I thought it would be. Guess that’s what happens when you’re only half a monster.”
He flips the blade open on his Swiss Army knife, and I watch with wide eyes as he brings it up to his neck, making a swift and vicious cut along his skin. Blood rushes to the surface, filling the air with his scent that hits me so hard it nearly knocks me off-balance, then it spills over, soaking the collar of his white shirt in red.
I’m horrified.
Not only at the fact he just did that, but at the ropes inside me that were holding me back, they’re all snapping one by one.
“Normally, the blood of other vampires won’t do much for you unless…well, perhaps you’ll find out one day,” he says, and a heated look comes across him for a moment. “But right now, you’ll take anything.”
I’m breathless, speechless, trying to hold myself together, to look away, to go inward to where I’m strong, where I’m not some bloodthirsty beast.
But that part of me doesn’t exist right now.
The cigar falls from my hands to the carpet and in a second I’m jumping across the table, drinks knocking over, glass smashing, climbing on top of him in his chair.
I grab his head, my mouth going right for his neck, and the minute his blood hits my tongue, I know I could easily kill him. I’m that starved, that mad with hunger.
And so I let myself go. I suck at his skin, drinking down the blood, feeling it hit every one of my cells, making them come alive, filling the empty parts of me with the lifeblood of him.
I barely notice anything else. Just his smell, the taste of his blood, sweeter and better than anything I’ve ever tasted, the taste of life itself.
Beneath me, Absolon moans, a low throaty sound that turns me inside out, and his hand goes into my hair, holding my head against his neck, the other hand at my back, pressing me to him.
Fuck. I want to consume him, all of him.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, grinding myself down on him, my lips sucking, tasting, feasting, his blood making my soul sing. It’s like a constant orgasm without a release.
I don’t know how long it goes on for, time seems to stop, and finally, finally I feel like I’ve had enough.
He puts his hands against my shoulders, pushing me back.
I’m breathing hard, my mouth a mess, and he’s staring at me with dilated eyes, big, black, and round, and I’m looking at his lips, wanting the energy to continue, to shift, to become something even bigger.
He reaches out with his hand and gently pushes the hair off my face, eyes roaming over my features, a hint of tenderness in them. And I feel that, just for a second, because what could be more intimate than drinking someone’s blood when that blood is what keeps you alive?
Fuck, I want him.
I lean in, going to kiss him, to taste his beautiful lips, but his hands remain firm, preventing me from getting closer.
“Feel better?” he asks, his voice quiet and hoarse.
I swallow down the last of his blood in my mouth and realize just what happened. The gash on his neck seems to be healing already, but his white shirt is soaked red, and the front of my nightgown is the same. His skin seems even paler than before, if that’s possible.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
I quickly scramble to get off of him, but he holds me in place. “Don’t be sorry. I wanted you to do that.” He licks his lips, which are almost white. “I may have underestimated you, but you obviously needed it. There’s a part of you that either doesn’t want you to give into your vampire tendencies, or it’s a part that doesn’t need to. But I think, going forward, you shouldn’t deny it for too long. I can handle it…others won’t be able to.”
