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A tall man in a sharp black suit stood next to Zander’s bed, speaking to him in a smooth tenor voice, concern obvious. He gave off the mafia vibe of all mafia vibes—blond hair slicked back with gel, with a chiseled facial structure. The hint of a tattoo on his neck and the gold earring in his ear cemented the impression. “You’re still not healed, my child?”
“Not yet. Just need a bit more time, I’ll be fine.”
“No one of my blood should take this long to heal.”
Fernando. This man must be Fernando.
Perfect. Max had a bone to pick with him.
Max stomped out of the bathroom, heading straight for Zander’s sire, his anger rising with every step. Fernando turned to track his approach, eyebrow raised as he took Max in from head to toe.
“Fernando, right? I’m Max. Just how the hell did you raise your chosen son that he’s so stubborn? Did you not teach him what a blood slave is actually for? I’ve tried multiple times to get him to feed from me—but, oh no, he’d rather spoil me rotten and ignore his own damn health until he’s in this poor state.”
Zander unwisely tried to interject. “Max, I’m fine—”
Rounding on him, Max growled, “Say that one more time. I fucking dare you. I have heard every single vampire in your clan ask why you haven’t healed yet, so clearly you are not fine. You won’t even properly feed from me in an emergency! Oh, don’t look shocked, I’m on to you. That fifteen-second feeding at the racetrack wasn’t anything more than a light snack. If it was a proper feeding, you’d be on your feet already.”
Zander winced and couldn’t quite manage to meet his eyes.
Nail on the head. Max wasn’t surprised. He turned back to Fernando. “I’m going to feed Zander—again—and this time you monitor him. If he tries to pull the same nonsense, I expect you to handle it.”
Fernando’s eyes danced with silent laughter but he gave a nod. “I will.”
“Good.” Max came around him to sit on the edge of Zander’s bed. He thrust out his wrist. “I am dangerously close to hurting your stubborn ass. A proper feeding this time or I will lose what’s left of my temper.”
Either Zander realized he wasn’t going to wiggle his way out of this, or he wasn’t willing to make Max even more upset with him. Whatever the reason, he accepted the wrist and started feeding.
It didn’t hurt, again. Max was relieved if for no other reason than because if he’d shown even a single indication of pain, Zander would have stopped immediately. Max was just as glad to skip another argument.
Fernando leaned around him to look. “You really feel no pain in a feeding.”
There was a question buried somewhere in his statement. Max shook his head. “No, I don’t. Surprised me too. Tell me, how long is a real feeding?”
“Hmm, hard to answer. If a vampire is eating steadily—like Zander is doing now—then two minutes or so. It takes a pint to feed a vampire, and two minutes or less to drink that much.”
“Got it.” Max made mental notes. “How often?”
“Two weeks is best. That’s optimum for both vampire and human. Your body has enough time to replenish the red blood cells, he’ll need another meal by that point for the right nutrients. Blood bags do help in that sense, but something about freezing the blood has a detrimental effect on it. For us, at least. It’s like the difference between eating a cardboard pizza or fresh, organic vegetables. Which does your body get more nutrients from?”
“Fresh, of course.” It made sense to Max. Also, the next time Zander made any noise about eating a blood bag, he would immediately smack the man.
Fernando’s eyes narrowed on Zander. “From the state he’s in, I would say he’s not had a proper meal in well over a month.”
This was adding fuel to the fire, but Max was feeling evil just then. “He donated a pint of blood to the hospital almost two weeks ago, too.”
Fernando gave Zander that patented look parents gave their children when they had done something stupid.
From the foot of the bed, Ronan let out a low whistle. “And you raced in this condition? Bro, you trying to kill yourself?”
Zander lifted his mouth, swallowed, and protested, “I was fine!”
Max snapped his fingers in front of Zander’s face. “You are not done.”
Zander gave Ronan another dirty look before he resumed eating.
Fernando put a hand on Max’s shoulder. “Before I leave, I’ll exchange numbers with you. If he does this again, you may call me. I’ll handle it.”
Oooh, backup. Max liked powerful backup very much. “Thank you. I absolutely will.”
