Page 15 of Taste of Death

“For pleasure, not necessity.” He grinned at me from across the island. “Otherwise I’d have no need for a chef at all, would I?”

“I guess not.” I popped the morsel into my mouth and my eyes went wide at the rich flavors that exploded on my tongue. A little spicy like ginger, with a buttery consistency that melted in my mouth. “Holy shit, that is really good!”

“Told you.” Novak took one for himself before pressing away from the counter. “Try everything, don’t hold back.”

Everything on the board was delicious in its own unique way. It made me wonder if my taste buds had become enhanced along with my other senses, because I couldn’t remember human food being half as flavorful as everything here.

And yet none of it compared to Novak’s blood.

The cut inside of his forearm was a barely noticeable pale scar now. I noticed it anyway because Novak had pushed his sleeves up past his elbows. The fabric creased and wrinkled just below his biceps, and it added a roughness to his aristocratic look.

A roughness that was very appealing, I realized. He had good blood vessels in his forearms too, surrounded by corded muscle.

While my hunger was sated, my fangs tingled at the thought of the blood coursing under his skin. Blood that was refreshing as water from a wild spring, and more delicious than Tavi’s homemade wine.

The sound of metallic clanking startled me, jerking my gaze away from Novak’s forearms as I searched for the source of the noise.

“It’s the automatic shutter system,” he explained. “When all sunlight is gone, the windows open up.”

“Oh, right. Most of your house isn’t underground.”

“I do have a basement for emergencies, but no.” He gave me a wry look. “How could my ancestors show off our wealth and prestige if we didn’t build upward so everyone could see?”

“You know, I keep wondering if you’re vampire royalty.” I popped another flavorful meat cube in my mouth. “And you’re not exactly disproving my theory.”

“We’ve had our go of that in the past.” Novak rested his forearm on the counter, leaning against the edge. “It never lasted, though. My family’s never been, let’s say, diplomatic enough, to be the ruling clan for any amount of time.”

“You seem very diplomatic,” I observed. “Philanthropic, even, with the way you take in ragged, starving brusang off the streets.”

“Don’t give me too much credit. You were the first.” He took another bite from my tray, slicing it deftly with his fang. “And probably the last.”

“Am I that horrible of a houseguest?” I said it as a joke, bringing a hand to my chest in fake shock. But I cringed while waiting for the answer. Novak had been more than hospitable to me, while I must have been a major inconvenience to him. Now with the sun down after I’d been here all day, he had to be dying to kick me out of his house.

“Not at all,” he said lightly. “You’ve made my day far more interesting. But,” his smile bared the tip of one fang, “I can only handle one insatiably curious brusang at a time. So don’t go telling your friends about how philanthropic I am.”

“And share these snacks?” I held my hand out over the tray. “Share your blood? Hell no.”

Novak laughed, but it sounded forced and I wondered if I overstepped. The truth had slipped out before I’d fully realized it.

I felt possessive over Novak’s blood. The thought of anyone else taking from him sent a twist of discomfort in my gut. And not only that, I felt possessive ofthis.The time we were spending together, just eating and bantering in his glorious kitchen.

He was probably hundreds of years older than me, and wealthier than I ever thought possible. Someone like him should have made me feel smaller, less than. But being with him like this felt so casual, even comfortable. He leaned against the counter lazily, with his sleeves rolled up, getting creases in his shirt, while he grabbed snacks with his fingers and patiently entertained my stupid questions without any ridicule.

Whateverthiswas, it was nice. It reminded me of when Tavi and I stayed up all night talking about anything and everything. Those moments were the most special ones. There was something about talking until dawn about the dumbest topics that made a friendship feel unbreakable.

But with how things were between me and her now, I questioned how true that really was.

All I knew right then was that I liked talking to Novak, and in my short time of knowing him, I felt like I could be myself with him.

Even while I was in the process of figuring out who “myself” was.

Novak rapped his knuckles on the marble counter, angling his head so that his gaze shifted to the now-open windows. “I suppose we should get you back home.”

“Oh, yeah.” While I was romanticizing our one conversation, he’d probably been hoping I’d take the initiative to leave myself. So much for not being a shitty guest. “Of course.” I pushed away from the counter, resisting the urge to grab one last bite from the tray. “I’ll just grab my clothes from the room upstairs.”

The grand staircase was an easy climb. So easy that I pushed myself to go faster, enjoying the speed and power that could have only come from Novak’s blood. I kept up my pace once I hit the landing, jogging to the guest room to collect my clothes. It felt good to move, good to push myself even slightly.

On my way back down the stairs, I wondered what I’d do for my next serving of blood. Was there any chance Novak would let me come back? Or would I have to force myself back to the blood bank?

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