Page 9 of Taste of Death

Now that I was alone, I could finally take in my surroundings. Well, try to, anyway.

“Fuck me,” I whispered, eyes roaming all over the details of the elegant, high-ceilinged room.

The walls were a dark forest green with a subtle damask pattern. Built-in bookshelves painted in the same green covered one wall from floor to ceiling. The crown molding was bronze, as were the legs of the furniture, the coffee table a few feet away, and tons of other accents and small details.

It felt like I’d been transported to a movie set, a historical drama from the Victorian period or something. Only nothing looked fake and prop-like. Everything was real, and looked incredibly well-crafted.

This guy was rich, and obviously so. Blood ‘til Dawn, the clan that Cyan was part of, was the ruling clan of Sanguine, but they didn’t look wealthy. They rode motorcycles and wore beat-up leather jackets. Their compound was simple, no frills. Above ground, it looked like a small warehouse. The biggest extravagance was the stripper pole in the great room.

How did Novak live in a place like this and not be considered royalty?

“Here you are.” He returned a few minutes later, holding a crystal glass filled with a dark red liquid. “Better drink it fast. Blood doesn’t keep well when exposed to air.”

Novak held the glass out to me and my eyes went straight to the thick bandage wrapped around his forearm that wasn’t there before.

“Jesus Christ, were you trying to amputate yourself?” I stared at the glass, which wasn’t small and nearly filled to the brim with blood.

He gave me a bored look. “We heal at a rapid rate so yes, I had to cut myself pretty deeply for this much blood. I’m fond of having two hands though, so not quite amputation level. But I’ll be completely healed by dusk and this way, you won’t have to put your mouth anywhere on my,” he inhaled sharply, “on my person.”

With slow trepidation, I accepted the glass from him and just stared at my reflection on the dark surface of his blood.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked dryly. “A curly straw, perhaps?”

I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be funny, but a short laugh burst out of me anyway. “No, thanks. But, um, do you have to… watch me?” I had barely glanced up to meet his eyes when he started backing out of the room.

“Of course not. I’ll see how your room is coming along and return to check on you later. I can have my chef prepare you some solid food as well, if you’d like. She’s human, but knows the brusang palate very well.”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary.” I tried to sit up taller without spilling my glass of blood. The longer I stayed, the more I wondered how embarrassed I should be. With rooms like this, a chef and housekeeper presumably, who was this guy? Some kind of vampire prince? He certainly talked like one.

“It’s no trouble at all. Jo will be thrilled to work on something new.” Novak gave a slight smile, showing only a hint of fang. “Please just drink up and relax. I’ll be back shortly.” He turned and walked out again, leaving me alone with this cup of blood and the fancy wallpaper.

I stared at the glass of blood, trying to decide if I’d drink it or not, when a human woman in her forties walked in, carrying a small jar.

“For your skin,” she said with a polite smile as she set the jar on a side table, and left the room before I could say thank you.

I set aside the blood on the same table, grateful to have a distraction as I unscrewed the jar and took an appraising sniff. The substance inside was creamy and white, like lotion, and smelled faintly herbal.

The moment I swiped my fingertip through it, instant relief came to that sore, itchy spot. I gathered more of the lotion and rubbed it everywhere that had hurt, sighing with relief at the coolness.

Once that was done, my attention returned to the blood. The hunger pains had returned, but at least the burning sensation all over my body had gone. My instincts screamed at me to chug down the blood, to lick every drop until the glass was clean. But I hesitated, remembering the watery taste of the anonymous donor’s blood and how I had freaked out. The heat of his skin against my lips, the pulsing of his open veins directly into my mouth. It had been too much all at once, and I shuddered at the memory.

Novak was clever to bring me a glass. Without even knowing why the feeding process had freaked me out, he eliminated those aspects. I had been a human for twenty-seven years; I could totally drink from a glass. I could pretend it was juice, or one of Tavia’s wines.

Bringing the glass toward my nose, I took a tentative sniff, lifted my face away, then sniffed again. Novak’s blood even smelled a little bit like wine in a way I couldn’t place. Something sweet with a little bit of a bite to balance it out.

“Ow.” Something stabbed my lip, and I brought my hand up to realize it was my own fang. They were longer than they’d ever been before, and pulsed with a dull, insistent ache.

I had been stalling, working up the courage to drink the blood of some strange vampire from a glass that probably cost more than my old house. But right then, I had forgotten why I hesitated at all. Novak’s blood was rich and full of vitality that I so desperately needed.

I brought the glass to my lips and drank deeply.

Chapter 4

Novak

Aknock came to the ajar door of my office. “Yes, come in,” I said, not looking up from the handwritten notes I was poring over.

“The guest room is ready, sir.”

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