Page 26 of Bleed

The entire apartment is open-concept, the foyer bleeding seamlessly into the living room and kitchen in one massive space. Sunlight gleams off black granite countertops and glossy cabinet fronts, reflecting against stainless steel appliances. The brightness of this place would’ve thrown me for a loop six months ago, but contrary to popular belief, vamps aren’t allergic to the sun.

Shocker, right?

Turns out, they’re just creatures of habit, and prior to revealing themselves to society, they used the cover of night to avoid detection. A few vampires I’ve met actually enjoy sunlight and have abandoned the nocturnal lifestyle entirely. Most haven’t, and judging by the fact Dr. Faulkner’s nowhere to be seen, I’m assuming he still subscribes to the whole brooding creature of the night aesthetic.

I wander further into the kitchen, glancing around to take everything in.

“Nice,” I remark.

“Do you cook?” Albert asks, leaning casually against the island.

“Uh…” I hesitate. “Not really.”

I decide not to elaborate on the fact that there’ve been entire weeks where I survived almost exclusively on ramen cups, gas station snacks, and sheer spite because groceries are expensive and rent doesn’t care if you eat.

“No problem,” he says, pointing toward a sleek tablet resting on the counter. “That’s pre-loaded with all the delivery apps, and Doc’s payment information is already stored. You can order takeout from anywhere and the doorman will bring it up. There’s grocery delivery, too, if you wanna stock the fridge. He doesn’t typically keep food on hand.”

“Other than me, right?” I joke, gesturing toward the massive refrigerator. “Why’s he even need that if he doesn’t stock actual food?”

Albert smirks and sidesteps over to it, tugging one of the doors open. Inside, it’s almost completely empty– except for a perfectly organized row of blood bags lined neatly across the top shelf.

Yeah, guess I should’ve expected that.

“Gotcha,” I quip, my fingers unconsciously drifting up to the pulse point in my neck. “Guess he won’t need those for much longer, huh?”

“We’ll see,” Albert replies ominously, closing the door. “And speaking of, let me show you the lounge.”

He hooks his arm through mine again, steering me down the hallway before I can protest.

“So, Bex,” he says brightly, suddenly mister hospitality. “Where are you from?”

“Here,” I reply as I eye him with suspicion. “What’s with the personality whiplash?”

“What do you mean?” he asks innocently.

“You went from judgmental asshole to weirdly charming in like three seconds flat.”

He laughs, the sound echoing down the hall. “It was a test,” he admits.

“A test,” I repeat flatly.

“Mhm,” he hums. “I wanted to see if you had the backbone to survive the doc. If you folded with me, you definitely wouldn’t survive him.”

“Rude.”

“Accurate.”

I roll my eyes, but I can already feel my irritation softening despite myself.

“Doc’s pretty blunt,” Albert continues. “A lot of people mistake that for rudeness.”

“What about you?” I ask.

He darts me a sideways glance. “What about me?”

“Do you think he’s rude?”

Albert snorts. “Doesn’t really matter what I think. He sired me. I owe the man everything.”