Page 4

It’s my turn to choke, but I’m not even drinking. I think I choked on air. Cat sits quietly and watches as I gasp and cough, and when I finally have air back in my lungs, I wheeze, “A quarter of a million dollars? Are you fucking with me?”

She shakes her head. “Nah.”

“You’re telling me that you make a quarter of a million dollars every year and you have no housing or meal expenses?” What do I need to do? Painful medical tests? Experimental torture? Sign me the fuck up.

“No,” she says, and disappointment hits hard. “That’s the starting wage. I’ve been doing this for six years, so I make almost double that.” She tucks her hair behind one ear and tilts her head so her earring catches the light. “See that stone? It’s a real diamond. Two carats, excellent quality. I bought them on a whim, and they cost more than your car.”

That’s not really a huge feat since my car is a pile of crap, but I get her point. She’s got money to burn, and the mould in my bathroom is very close to evolving into a sentient being.

“This sounds like a job I’m ideal for,” I declare. “Where do I apply? Will you vouch for me?”

“I’ll introduce you,” she corrects, “and your name will carry a lot of weight, but there’s no guarantee. My boss knows someone who’s currently looking, but he’s… discriminating. He’s hired two people already since February, and neither of them lasted more than a week.”

It’s only May. “So he’s a picky pain in the arse. That’s fine, I’m used to that. If I only need to put up with him for less than an hour every day, I can deal. I can be charming, polite, silent. He’ll love me.” I’ll change my whole personality if I have to.

Cat doesn’t look convinced. “We’ll see. Anyway, the first step is to get you registered and introduce you to my boss, who can put in a good word. Even if you don’t get hired by Tristan, someone will hire you. Our family has an impeccable reputation.” Her eyes narrow a bit, like she’s worried I might fuck up that reputation. Which… valid.

“No worries, sounds great. Register where? Do I need more ID than just my licence?” My passport is locked up at home, but I’ll go get it right now if I have to. Holy fuck—if I can work this job for even one year, it’ll have a huge impact on the rest of my life. I make a mental note to text one of my uni friends who works as a financial adviser. If I’m going to have cash to spare, I’m using it to set myself up for the future.

Wait…

“This is legal, right? I can deposit money into bank accounts and invest it and shit without any awkward questions?”

Cat rolls her eyes. “Yes, it’s legal, you idiot. No, you won’t need more than your licence. They will take a blood test, though.”

“A… blood test?” Maybe this is about weird medical tests after all. “Cat, I’m definitely in, ready to go right now, but what exactly is it I’ll need to do during those two twenty-minute shifts?”

She smiles. “Donate blood. Your employer will be a vampire.”

Chapter 3

I laugh. That’s what she’s expecting, right? Why else would she have made that joke about working for a vampire?

Except Cat’s not laughing along with me. She’s just watching me, that smile still on her face, waiting for me to settle down.

Trepidation trickles through me. She wasn’t serious, was she? Do I need to find a doctor for her? What does a psychotic break look like, anyway? Because a low-key belief in vampires doesn’t seem like enough for me to worry, but if I have to, I will.

I clear my throat. “Seriously, Cat… what’s the job?”

“The official title is feeder, which sounds pretty gross. Despite the shitty name, the job’s important. They can’t survive without us, which is why they treat us like we’re precious gems.”

Oh my god, she’s serious. I lean over to put my mug on the coffee table, then take both her hands in mine. “Cat. Catrina.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, Adam?”

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that vampires are real and you work for one as… as…” Fuck, what even is this? “As lunch?”

“Usually dinner and breakfast, actually, but sometimes a snack too, if she’s had a busy day.”

I can feel the sympathy taking over my face. “Babe, have you been getting enough sl— Oh my god, what happened to your neck?” I stare at the small patch of skin on her throat, where she’s taken off the wide silver neck cuff she was wearing. Now I know why. There are two faint puncture marks surrounded by faded green and yellow bruises.

“It’s usually healed by now,” she’s saying casually, “but Nisha—well. It was a sunny day today and she needed extra, so the healing’s taking a little longer.”

I’m barely able to process that, I’m so busy staring at her neck. Either she’s genuinely had a psychotic break of some kind and is doing this to herself, she got kinky with a hookup, or she’s… telling the truth.

I swallow hard. “Vampires?”

Her sigh is equal parts exasperated and sympathetic. “This is all your parents’ fault. They didn’t want to be feeders, fine—free will is a thing, more power to them. But by cutting you off from the rest of us, they denied you the chance to learn about your culture.”