Page 82 of Even Robots Die
It’s only ever been her.
And now that I can smell the blood that she lost in the air, some primal part of me is reacting as if it’s always known her.
As bat-shifters, we never talk about blood because it’s taboo—more than the wings, it’s our attraction to someone’s blood that made humans call us vampires.
It was already taboo on Aléa, but ever since we arrived on earth, it’s even more so.
I want to say it’s because of the humans—they’ve romanticized vampires for centuries, after all—but the truth is that we love blood too much. It’s an aphrodisiac of the highest potency for bats, and knowing some humans have biting kinks, it was a huge mess when we arrived three hundred years ago.
Vampire dens were created, and after so long not gorging on blood, a lot of bats went crazy for blood. Because it’s not just an aphrodisiac, it also acts like a drug. From what I know, it’s alright if you only ever take from one partner, but the problem comes when you sample multiple sources. It starts to make the bat want to experienceevery single bloodin existence in search of the best taste ever.
It was a bloodbath.
Maybe it was also the reason why it was so easy for the birds to step in and parade as angels. Greedy bats had paved the way.
Shortly after that, vampire dens were closed, and feeding from anyone became taboo again.
I have no idea why they were taboo in Aléa, but I can only guess that it was for the same reason. And as often happens, people didn’t learn from history.
Which is why I’m currently at the door but can’t bring myself to open it.
What if I open it and can’t stop myself? What if I open it and make it worse because I see all the blood and it triggers something inside of me and all I’ll see is the blood and all I’ll want is the taste of it on my tongue?
46
Brice
“For someone who is supposed to have no emotion, I find you in a lot of turmoil,” Charles’s voice comes from the other side of the corridor.
He’s putting a shirt on and it’s very obvious that he just got here. No thanks to me, though, because I clearly forgot to warn him that I was coming to Paris.
He walks up to me and looks at me with a questioning look.
That damn spy sees way too much.
I sigh and he takes that as his cue to probe some more.
“When did you start feeling something again?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer, but I know it’s a lie and Charles knows it too.
The look he gives me says it all.
I sigh again.
“The first time I made her mad,” I tell him.
“But that’s right when she arrived,” Charles says, taken aback. “It’s been weeks already. Why did you hide it for so long?”
“At first, because I didn’t believe it was true, and then …” I don’t want to finish that sentence.
And then because it made me feel like she was mine.
Charles doesn’t make me finish the sentence, though, and I’m grateful for it.
“Are you going to tell her?” he asks instead.
“Is she going to make it?” I ask, avoiding his question.
