Page 12 of Taste of Death

“Yeah, I needed some space. My friend has always been like a mom to me. I love that she’s always had my back, but she can be kind of overbearing, you know?”

“Sure. My mother was like that too.” I swallowed the next words on the tip of my tongue, which was offering to let her stay here if she ever wanted space from this “friend.” That was probably overstepping into creepy territory. And besides, this woman was a stranger to me.

“Can I ask a potentially weird question?” Amy chewed her lip, her small fang poking out.

“Sure.” Having a stranger in my home was already weird enough as it was. How bad could a question be?

“Why does your blood taste so good?” Amy looked at the empty glass in her lap. “It’s so much better than the blood I tried at the blood bank. I want to lick the whole damn glass, but that would definitely be rude.” She glanced up shyly. “I am really new to all this, in case it wasn’t obvious.”

Keeping my expression neutral was difficult while I fucking glowed on the inside. No one had ever paid such compliments to my blood before, and I was more pleased than ever. Inviting her to stay didn’t seem like such an outrageous idea anymore.

“It’s probably because you were on the brink of starvation,” I reasoned. “You were so deprived of essential nutrients that almost any blood would have tasted like the fountain of youth. When was the last time you fed, anyway?”

Amy set the crystal glass on the side table, spinning it slowly to watch the dim lamplight catch the intricate cuts and etching of the design. She was stalling.

“Well?” I pressed.

She returned her hands to her lap, again looking shy, if even embarrassed.

“Technically, that initial glass of your blood was my first feeding. The first successful one, anyway.”

My mouth dropped open in shock. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I was raised to not say foul words in front of women, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Youneverhad blood before mine? How long have you been a brusang?”

“Two weeks.” She gnawed her lip again, her small fangs like kitten teeth. “I had gone to the blood bank right before I ran into you. My friends took me there to receive blood and I just… couldn’t do it.”

“They waitedtwo weeksafter your turning to get blood in you?” I scoffed. “Some friends.”

“It wasn’t their faults,” Amy protested. “It was mine. I had a… a really difficult time after I woke up. I felt betrayed. I was depressed. They tried to help, but I did nothing for two weeks but melt into a couch and eat a few slices of jerky. I kind of hoped I would… ” She trailed off, waving a hand through the air. “You know. Die again.”

“But you didn’t actually want to,” I filled in.

“No.” Amy sighed wearily. “It’s still hard to accept that I’m… this. Not really human anymore, drinking blood to survive. But I want to live. My best friend wanted me to live. So that’s something, I guess.”

“It’s more than something. Choosing to live is everything.”

Amy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Being alive isn’t the same as living. Braindead people are alive. They have inflating lungs and a beating heart, the two necessary functions that determine the difference between being alive and being dead. But they are notliving.They don’t have lives. See the difference?”

A smile tugged at Amy’s lips, her nose wrinkling. “What are you, some kind of vampire doctor?”

I laughed dryly. “I’m a scientist, of sorts. But you get what I’m saying, right?”

“I think so,” she mused. “I might not have been braindead, but I definitely wasn’t living those first two weeks.”

“Right. Some people are just alive. They exist. They go through the motions. But living is a choice. It has to be something you want more than just being alive. You’re more than a functioning heart and lungs.” I picked up the glass from the side table, noticing the residual warmth from her fingers. “I’m glad you’ve decided to live, Amy. That you want to live a life, even if it’s different from what you imagined for yourself.”

Her lips twitched with a smile, her gaze lowering to the blankets over her legs. “Thanks, Novak. I think you’re the first person who’s put it that way for me.”

“Sure.”

An awkward silence followed, and it dawned on me that I should probably get the hell out of her bedroom. “Well, I’ll let you rest until sundown.”

“Wait.” On my retreat to the door, Amy gripped the covers like she wanted to throw them back. “Is it okay if I get up and I dunno, stretch my legs? I feel wide awake now, like a crazy amount of energy compared to before.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. I can show you to the kitchen if you’re still hungry. My chef prepared some solid bites. Or I can provide more blood, whichever you prefer.”

Amy curled in on herself, drawing her legs and shoulders up, hiding a smile behind her knees. “Your house is so nice and I just realized how filthy I am. Any chance I could have a shower?”

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