Page 46 of Fangs

I have never eaten like this. Never tasted food so rich. The flavors explode on my tongue—honey and spice and a flavor I can’t name…

Blake watches me eat with an enigmatic expression. There is satisfaction there, yes. But also a quiet warmth. A look that borders on wonder.

“You are staring,” I say, reaching for another pastry.

“Can you blame me?” He leans back in his chair, a smile playing at his lips. “I have waited two hundred years to share a meal with someone. I intend to savor every moment.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t suppress my own smile. “You are impossible.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“I thought vampires don’t eat food like this, you know…”

He laughs, the sound low and unhurried. “Are you kidding me? Pass up all this?” He gestures at the spread with a languid hand. “Our hunger may demand a different kind of diet, but we eat human food for pleasure. Because it tastes good. The same reason we smoke cigarettes and drink wine. Vampires never pass up life’s delights, Lucy. Our instincts are driven by pleasure.”

The meal winds down. The shadows clear the plates, and Blake rises, offering me his hand.

“Dance with me.”

I hesitate. “I don’t know how.”

“Neither do I.” He grins, the corners of his mouth tilting with quiet mischief. “We’ll learn together.”

“Liar.” I shake my head, but my hand is already sliding into his. His fingers close around mine and he draws me toward the center of the ballroom.

The chandeliers seem to dim, the candles flickering low. The shadows retreat to the edges of the room, giving us space.

He pulls me close, one hand on my waist, the other clasping mine. We sway together, clumsy at first, then finding a rhythm.

“I made all this,” he says, his voice soft against my ear, “because this morning, that sounded important to you. So I want to officially ask you, Lucille. Do you want to date me?”

I nearly stumble. “Date you?”

“Is that not what you call it? In your time?”

“Y—yes. I wanna date you.” I pause, my cheeks flushing. “I have never had a boyfriend.”

“Neither have I.” He teases, voice light with amusement. “If that counts. In my time, these concept did not even exist, I suppose.”

A soft laugh escapes me. “You talk so informal for a century-old man—”

“Centuries, I’m afraid…” He interrupts, amusement flashing in his gaze. “I’m three thousand years old.”

I go still. “Three thousand?”

“We adapt.” He spins me, then pulls me back against his chest. “Like an animal in the wild, we camouflage into the ambient. A skill developed over a very long time.”

I stare at him, my mind reeling. “Let me see if I understand. You are a three-thousand-year-old vampire. Locked inside a portrait for two hundred years.” I swallow hard. “What was your life before? Before you became a vampire?”

His expression shifts. Grows distant. “I was never human, Lucille.”

“What?”

“I am a deity.” His voice drops to barely a whisper. “A force of nature. Of the darkness.” He meets my eyes, and I see ancient power in them. Vast. Terrible. “A demon, Lucille.”

A monster.

My heart stops. My blood turns to ice.