Page 17

I knew it. It was an offering for the whiplash she gave me yesterday. A reluctant smile tugged at my mouth. “So you’re not going to do anything crazy today then, besides kicking me in the chest, that is?” I questioned as my grip on the mug tightened.

Her eyebrow lifted as a sly expression settled on her features. “You did deserve it—you pushed me twice. But I never promise something I may not be able to keep, Alexander.” The way my name rolled off her tongue made my mouth dry. My fingers crawled through my curls as I cleared my throat. “So are you going to accept it?”

Lifting a brow, a crooked grin pulled at my teeth. “I will. So what you’re really saying is… I can still eat human food?” I leaned into her, our chest brushing, as my arm crossed over her shoulder to grab an apple. Our eyes met briefly as I pulled back and a laugh escaped her lips. Backing away, she turned to the microwave waiting for the timer to go off.

Turning on her heel back to me, she replied, “Tastes divine, zero calories, no guilt unless you count the source.”

Taking a bite out of the apple, the juice rushed in a wave of flavor so sharp it almost hurt. It was crisp against my taste buds, with a hint of tartness that seized the inside of my cheek. It was almost too intense for my new senses. Choking, I coughed the bitten fruit into the trash. Shocked at my own reaction, I tossed the rest away.

“Don’t choke before I can get you to my father,” Valentina lazily warned as the microwave sounded its bell When her fingers pulled the door open, warmth rolled into the air, carrying an aroma that was earthy. Metallic. A faint nutty undercurrent. Nothing like my usual coffee. It smelled sharper. Better.

Immediately my focus locked onto the floating scent, far too tempting. The muscles in my throat pulled hard over my Adam’s apple as I swallowed back the saliva threatening to spill..

The mug was a deep onyx that glossed like a forbidden treasure. She gripped the handle tightly, swirling the liquid in front of her nose before she took a sip of her own. “And what are you drinking then?”

A faint smirk played on Valentina’s lips as she watched me observe it with suspicion. She tried to fix her expression into something serious as she took another step forward. “Would you like a taste for yourself?” she asked, not answering my question. Her steps inched closer to me until I could feel the heat roll between us. Once she was right in front of me, Val teasingly lifted the mug, and the closer it came, the more fire lit my throat.

For a moment, it was like time had stopped as I looked her over. Her question was so simple, so willing in a way to push me that I myself didn’t want to explore. Valentina’s brown eyes held a playful glint even in the still over her expression. Nothing gave her away. She froze in front of me, holding the cup between us like a second offering.

Was it one that I was willing to take? It could be anything inside of that cup, an animal just like we had yesterday. But another part of me whispered, don’t be that delusional. I wanted to be that naïve to it all, to not be standing in my kitchen discussing the idea of tasting anything that supplies someone, something their life.

Yet the challenge in her stance and the steam rolling off the ceramic swirled around me like a spell. It had me almost dizzy with need, and unwanted hunger. The urge to step forward felt like poison in my veins. Each canine lengthened like a blade, a hiss tearing from my throat.

It felt wrong and right as they pushed through the skin, beckoning to contain my craving. I was so used to being in this kitchen being called to dinner as a child. My mother’s meals were always so hearty and kept me full, and to even want what she had to offer in that cup felt like a betrayal to that ritual. She lifted the mug, swirling it slowly, letting the scent coax me again.

What was worse than being persuaded by a perfume that should be labeled no less than a crime against humanity? Pressing my lips to that rim would be worse because it would be too easy to do. Or would it be dangerous to resist this new, persistent urge that felt inevitable? I could only hope to turn out the other side unscathed. My body leaned closer to the mug, allowing myself another breath of temptation.

I couldn't. Could I?

Sanity had to snap me back to my senses as my mouth filled with an unmistakable craving. “No,” I said quickly, clutching my own mug, my nose inhaling the richness of the beans. The way my body reacted, I knew it was human blood. Someone’s life flowed through that cup, and yet I still wondered what it could taste like. Wrong. So wrong. I was disgusted with myself for even the thought of actually doing it. I wanted to. A monstrous part of me craved it. My gaze dropped to hers, gauging whether she’d seen it.

Valentina brushed some of her hair that had fallen out of place and her scent drifted to my nostrils. It tangled with the intoxicating fumes from her mug, rendering me nearly blind with white. The once steady beat against my ribs skipped, stunned by the urgency rising in my veins. It was more than just fire. It was like a thread knitting together slowly, the space between us suddenly too small. Taking a step back, I gave myself room to breathe clean air.

I tried to steady myself before it hypnotized me. Valentina immediately followed my step, not giving me a chance to contain myself. “You won’t lose control right here,” she whispered, her voice feather-light, brushing my senses and loosening something tight in my chest. Not a command. Permission.

She shouldn’t have had the power to grant me that. How could she give me permission to be so vile? Yet the warmth in her voice made it feel like a safe space. Like she wouldn’t judge me if I wanted to take a step into darkness. Valentina lifted the cup once again, closer to my lips. Her eyes asked permission instead of granting it, like she could hear the turmoil in my thoughts.

I should have stepped back. Should have said something.

I didn’t.

When no response came, she took that as her opening, guiding the glass to my lips as they parted and she tipped the cup.

When the crimson fluid touched my tongue, my body seized with hunger. Lost in the certainty of its taste, I wanted to lunge like a fevered animal. Skin pulled tight over muscle as adrenaline sparked a new wave of becoming through me. Without clear thought, my fingers seized Valentina’s wrist as she continued to pour. In the next moment, her free hand pressed against my chest, steadying the beast within me.

The blood was richer than anything I’d experienced yesterday. Silken. Fat-rich, like broth on a Sunday morning. It flooded through me, warmth blooming outward, leaving me humming in every direction. I could feel the nutrients replenishing me from the inside out—from my ears to the tips of my toes. It was electric, fulfilling every part of me. A hiss broke free of my lungs between us as the mug ran dry.

It was gone before I could truly relish it. My grip tightened on her before I could stop it, as though she were keeping the mug captive from me. For one irrational moment, my teeth bit down on its rim. I don’t know how I managed to drop my hand. But I did.

Valentina slowly pulled the mug from my lips, my teeth grazing the ceramic. Her gaze never left mine. A small growl clawed against my chest from the withdrawal.

She studied me like an experiment, watching the subtle change in my expression, the way my brown skin flushed at the apples of my cheeks. I felt alive from a single sip, full, humming. More sustained than any cougar ever had. “You liked that?” she asked, amusement threading through her voice.

Taking a step back, I put some distance between us. It felt like something wild was firing in every direction inside my skull and I couldn’t tell what my next move would be. Focusing on my own mug, I tried to pull myself back to something normal. I needed one sane moment. That shouldn’t have felt so invigorating. Guiding my cup to my nose, I took in the deep hazelnut roast, willing it to anchor me. Now that my tongue had tasted something so rich, it couldn’t be compared to anything else.

If only it could actually do that. The scent felt thin now. Hollow.

I did, in fact, like it, but the words failed me. How could I admit to such evil? It truly was that, and I didn’t want to reconcile who was actually in that cup. Not a what—but a who. The name attached to it was what unsettled me. With all that in mind, it still made my heart and veins sing in unison. If I admitted it out loud, would it make me complicit in whoever it was that had given me that thrill? All I could manage was a small nod as I brought my own cup to my lips. I couldn’t lie to myself. That would do me a disservice. The coffee scorched the back of my throat with its familiar burn and flavor. Strong and dark, softened just enough by cream and sugar.