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“What the hell was that? No—don’t tell me.” I hold up a hand. There’s a non-zero chance that Clive is going to make me drink one of these again at some point—hopefully not as soon as tomorrow—and it’s better if I don’t know what it is.

“It’s good for you,” he tells me with a sniff. “You don’t want to almost pass out while doing your job, do you? Oh, wait… you already did that.”

Yikes. Clive’s got claws. I force a smile, but I’m pretty sure it’s mostly teeth. “Thanks for making that for me.”

His eyes narrow, but he turns away without saying anything else.

“Here.” Anna passes me a glass of water. “Rinse the taste out of your mouth.”

I take a few big swallows, and by the time I set the glass down, there’s a mug sitting in front of me. A mug with frothy milk topped with powdered chocolate. I eye it suspiciously. “What’s this?”

“Cappuccino,” Clive says shortly. “You can take it with you. Tristan doesn’t mind.”

“You made me a cappuccino?” I do not understand this guy.

“That’s your coffee preference, isn’t it?”

“For breakfast, yes,” I agree. Then, because he’s genuinely done something nice for me even if I don’t understand it, I add, “Thank you.” The mug is warm between my hands when I lift it, the gorgeous aroma of coffee wafting to my nose, and I take a careful sip. It’s the perfect temperature, and even better, it’s just flat-out fuckin’ perfect. My moan is involuntary.

“You’d better go,” Anna says, grinning. “You can have alone time with your coffee later.”

I’m not sure if we’re good enough friends yet for me to flip her off. Probably not, especially since we’re also colleagues in our place of work. I settle for glaring at her instead, then slide off the stool, mug cradled close, and head for the door.

Tristan’s office door is ajar this morning, and I tap lightly on it as I push it further open. He’d have closed it if he didn’t want me to walk right in… right?

He looks up from where he’s bent over his desk, writing something in a fancy-looking notebook. He’s already wearing most of his suit, though not his jacket, and his hair is perfectly in place. “Thank you for being on time.” His gaze skims over me, and if he disapproves of my pj’s or my coffee, nothing in his expression gives it away. “Have you eaten this morning?”

I wince. “Yeah, Clive gave me this protein shake thing that tasted like grave dirt that’d been shat in. Look, I’m sorry about last night. I swear I’m not usually that irresponsible. It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.” He doesn’t say anything else, but the warning is clear. I’ve had my one strike, and if I fuck up again, I’ll go the same way as the two feeders that came before me.

“It won’t,” I agree fervently. “Uh, Clive said you wouldn’t mind if I brought the coffee, but I can put it down if you prefer.”

He turns toward the half turret, dismissing my offer with a casual wave. “Don’t spill it on me while I’m feeding.”

Well, there’s a new fear unlocked. I take another hasty swallow from the mug as I follow him, trying to get the liquid level down.

The moment I’m seated on the plush bench, Tristan takes hold of my arm, lifting my wrist so he can see it clearly. The bite mark from yesterday is gone, but there’s still some minor bruising. According to the orientation guidebook, once he’s fed a few times, there will be enough enzymes in my bloodstream that the bruises will fully heal within a few hours.

His fangs slice into me, and I grit my teeth against the pain. The guidebook also said that after a month or so, the enzymes in my bloodstream will deaden the pain of the bite.

I can’t fucking wait for that.

Chapter 13

I wait until nine o’clock—after an incredible breakfast that’s not ruined by Clive’s glaring face, a nap, and the most amazing shower I’ve ever had—for Cat to call or text me, but she doesn’t. That’s fucking annoying. I have a list of questions and nobody I can ask for the answers without potentially getting us both into trouble. Although, now that I’m officially Tristan’s feeder, would it matter? It’s not like we really lied. I am a legacy—does the fact that I grew up outside the feeder community matter that much?

Maybe not, but technically I got my registration under false pretences, so it might be better to keep that under my hat for a while.

I heave a huge sigh, staring at the ceiling above the couch in my living room. So… yeah. Until Cat texts me, I’m shit outta luck. I could go over there, but⁠—

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs breaks into my train of thought.

“Adam?” a voice calls. It’s Anna. “Can I come up?”

I push up to a sitting position and call, “Sure.” She appears a few seconds later, looking sharp in a tailored black suit, hair slicked back. “Whoa, you look killer.”

She glances down at herself and grins. “Thanks. Tristan has people coming for a meeting later this morning, so I need to look intimidating.”