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The corner of his mouth lifted—and he grinned.
“Did you not understand what I said?”
“There are worse things than my kind in this world…”
“Such as?”
“You’ll see—someday.”
Trepidation filled my heart, an unease that seeped straight into my bones. I wanted to press him for answers, but I would receive none, especially since I’d refused to comply with every single one of his demands.
“When I said your kind enjoy bloodletting, I meant it. Every prey I’ve ever had has enjoyed my bite. The only pain you feel is the moment my fangs pierce your skin. But then indescribable pleasure sweeps through you, the kind that will make you beg me to keep going, until I’ve had every single drop.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His stare was still, eyes locked on to mine, like I wasn’t even there. “I’ve never had to force a woman to be my prey.”
“Then why don’t you get someone else?”
“Humans normally travel to our gates and offer themselves as prey. We’ve never had to travel to the kingdoms and capture prisoners. The plague has changed everything.”
“Why would they do that? Why would anyone in their right mind want to subject themselves to that?”
He gave a subtle shrug. “Several reasons.”
“Such as?”
“One, physical desire.”
“Desire? Desire to be bit?”
“Desire to be with a vampire in other ways…”
I couldn’t sit across from Kingsnake and pretend he wasn’t a treat for the eyes, especially when he was shirtless and muscular. The vampire I usually saw him with was the same way, just more muscular. A lot of vampires were good-looking, but Kingsnake was exceptional. “Is that why you’re half naked right now? Because that’s not going to work on me.”
That knowing grin returned. “I find it more comfortable.”
“What are the other reasons?”
“Obsession. Some humans worship our kind. Think we’re gods. To serve us is a great honor.”
I’d heard about these people before. I’d always dismissed them as crazy enthusiasts.
“And the final, more important reason, is the chance to become a vampire themselves.”
Death would be preferrable. “None of those sound remotely appealing.”
“The chance to live forever isn’t remotely appealing to you?”
“No—because it’s not living. You don’t have a beating heart. Your lungs don’t draw air. You have no soul. When your time comes, you’ll just be…nothing.”
His expression didn’t change, as hard as ever, still like stone.
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“Why would it bother me when my time will never come?”
“You’re that arrogant?”
