Page 106 of Bleed

Her grin widens, teeth catching her lower lip. “You need a break,” she declares.

“I don’t need a break,” I grumble, though the words sound hollow even to my own ears.

She moves directly in front of me and plants her hands on her hips. “You’re getting cranky. I can see it in your eyes.”

My patience is wearing thin, but it has little to do with her. It’s the lack of progress in my research, the unanswered questions. The gnawing hunger that only abates when I’m inside her.

I remove my glasses and rub the bridge of my nose, exhaling a long, measured breath before replacing them.

“You can call it a night, if you’d like.”

Her brows lift. “You that eager to get rid of me?”

“No. You simply seem bored.”

“I am bored,” she says with a laugh. “But it’s fine. I’m finished with the data entry, so just tell me where you want me next.”

Tied to the bed in the playroom, ideally.

I dismiss the thought before it can gain traction and gesture toward the sample rack beside me. “I’m finished with these. Load them into trays and return them to the refrigerator, then bring me the remaining samples from the lower shelf.”

She doesn’t argue, setting work transferring the tubes while I redirect my attention to the analyzer.

The process has become excruciatingly monotonous. Draw, deposit, analyze, record. Again and again, with little variation beyond minor fluctuations in the data and the persistent absence of the result I’m looking for.

Beatrix returns with the new trays as I finish the last sample from the current batch and reach the end of my control sample. I record the result, then open the small refrigerator beneath my workbench to retrieve two tubes I keep stored separately from the others.

“What are you doing now?” she asks.

“Preparing the control,” I murmur.

As distracting as she is, I force myself to focus.

This research is too important to neglect.

Questions are already being asked about James and Taylor, which means I’m on a deadline. When the truth about their bond is eventually discovered, speculation will spread quickly. I intend to have answers before that happens.

If Taylor is the only human capable of forming this kind of bond, then what happened between her and James is an anomaly– one that will invite considerable envy from other vampires. The goal is to identify others like her, thereby turning Taylor and James’ bond into a beacon of hope rather than a threat to the order of things.

The first batch of samples yielded nothing. I’m hoping the second proves more useful. Before testing them, however, I need to confirm that my control remains reactive.

I take the preserved samples of James and Taylor’s blood from before their bond was sealed and place them on the workbench. There isn’t much left. What remains is irreplaceable, which makes me reluctant to use even a few drops, but without a reliable control, the rest of the data is meaningless.

I draw a small amount from each vial and combine them in a clean tube. The reaction is immediate– light blooms through the blood, a warm phosphorescent glow emanating from the mixture and reflecting faintly off the stainless steel beneath it.

Beatrix’s eyes widen, the effect exaggerated by the dark liner beneath her lashes.

“Ooh,” she breathes, leaning closer. “Is that supposed to happen?”

“Only under very specific circumstances,” I reply. “It’s an emergent property caused by the interaction of certain proteins in human blood with enzymes unique to–”

I stop, realizing she’s staring at me blankly, not processing any of the information I’m throwing at her.

“In English?” she asks.

“James and Taylor’s blood is uniquely compatible. When combined, it reacts.”

Her attention returns to the tube, the blood inside still glowing. She leans closer, her dark hair falling over her eyes as she braces one hand against the bench. “It’s beautiful.”