Page 6 of Bleed

All of these places start to look the same after a while. Marble floors, soft lighting, and expensive finishes. I take a slow look around the lobby as I cross toward the elevators, the click of my heels echoing in the quiet space.

Yeah… this place isn’t cheap.

Then again, none of them are.

Every client I’ve taken through Bite has been fabulously wealthy– the kind of wealth that buys privacy and penthouses and whatever the hell they want.

Including me.

Not that I’ve got any shame where that’s concerned. I’m a hustler, and blood donation is the easiest money I’ve ever made. Get bit, get paid, leave. Simple, clean, and ridiculously profitable.

Of course, I signed on for Bite’s supplemental services, too. Companionship? I can talk to anyone. Dates? Sign me up for a free meal anytime. Sex? I enjoy it, so why not get paid to get freaky with a hot vamp? I listed my sexual preferences, identified my hard limits, and signed on the dotted line.

There’s zero shame in my game. I’ve got full control over which requests I take and which I turn down, so it honestly depends on my mood. Sometimes, I just do blood. Others, I agree to do more.

Tonight’s request was for more, and while Vincent is a first-time client, his profile picture pulled me in immediately. I barely even hesitated before clicking ACCEPT.

The elevator ride up is quick and smooth, ending at the top floor. Of course. It’s always the top floor with these guys, like altitude is just another way to remind the world where they stand in it. Another thing I’ve learned over the past six months: the only thing bigger than a vampire’s appetite is their ego.

By the time the doors slide open, I’ve already slipped fully into my agency alias: Tiffany. Donors are encouraged to use fake names for anonymity, and it’s kinda fun to play a character. Bex is a sad little orphan who grew up in foster care, but Tiffany’s a trust fund baby from the suburbs who gave it all up to carve her own path. She’s the type of girl who walks into these kinds of places like she owns them.

I barely make it a step off the elevator before the penthouse’s heavy black double-doors part, swinging open. And, just like always, the client looks even better in person than he did in his profile picture.

Physically, Vincent appears to be in his mid-thirties, but there’s no real way to tell a vampire’s true age by looking at them. Instead, you have to pay attention to other things– like this apartment, for example. Unless he was born rich, it’d take at least half a century to amass this kind of wealth. Pair that with the fact he’s dressed in a vintage three-piece suit with slicked-back hair, looking like he just stepped out of a 1950’s mobster flick, and it’s a safe bet that he’s lived at least three of my lifetimes.

“Tiffany,” he greets smoothly, giving me a slow once-over. His sharp amber eyes track me in that subtly predatory way that’s distinctly vampire– hungry, but controlled. “You’re even more stunning in person.”

I smile like I haven’t heard it a hundred times before. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

His mouth curves in a smirk as he moves aside and gestures for me to come in. “You came highly recommended, and now I see why.”

“I try to leave a good impression,” I reply lightly, stepping past him into the condo and letting my gaze drift casually over the space.

Damn, it’s nice. Open layout, massive windows, city lights spilling in like something out of a movie. Exactly the type of place I’d love to call my own someday.

Soon.

I’ve been saving up, stashing away most of my earnings with grand plans for the future. Eventually, I’ll have enough to buy myself the home I deserve. Hell, maybe Vincent and I will be neighbors.

He leads me further inside, gesturing toward the living area in a clear invitation to make myself at home. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Whiskey,” I reply easily. “Neat.”

He nods, already moving toward the bar cart in the corner. “Of course.”

I drift over to the couch, running my fingers lightly along the back as I take in the view outside the windows. From way up here, the city’s beautiful; all twinkling lights and polished steel. You can’t see the grimy underbelly that people like me claw their way through daily just to survive.

I’ll escape the grind someday. Taylor did.

A flicker of her crosses my mind– of how fast things changed for my best friend after I handed over that Bite card. She signed up at the agency a month after me, but her time as a donor was short-lived. After just a couple engagements, she caught the eye of a vampire king, and now she’s living in his mansion, happier than she’s ever been.

Same path, different outcome. But if another cast-off of the foster system built a future for herself in this world, then surely I can build my own, too.

Vincent returns with a glass in hand, offering it to me.

“Thanks,” I say as I pluck it from his fingers, letting mine brush his for just a second longer than necessary. I flash him a coy smile before circling around the couch and lowering myself onto the expensive leather.

He follows without hesitation, those intense amber eyes tracking my every move. “I should mention,” he murmurs as he closes the distance, “I prefer the femoral artery.”