Page 17 of The Vampire's Receptionist
“I’m alright. A little disappointed that I couldn't get another marketing job. Poppy was working reception for this place, but it’s pretty relaxed here, and the people are nice. It’s better than before.”
“That’s good. I know you want more marketing experience, but I wouldn’t want you to make yourself uncomfortable just to get it. I’ll talk to Morana, see if we can find you more jobs in the field you’re interested in after this whole thing with Spellbound is settled, yeah?”
He didn’t have a lot of say in where people went normally, he was just another employee before now, but he hoped his experience as liaison meant Morana would hear him out. It wouldn’t be that hard to ask Morgan first if he was interested in the marketing jobs, so long as he wasn’t on schedule for something else.
“Thanks, Kian! That’d be great!”
“No problem.” He heard Dorian’s door open, and his eyes tracked the vampire as he went to the breakroom to get himself another coffee. It was strange to Kian that he never asked for him to do it. He was like the CEO of the division, but he still got his own coffee and snacks. It was kind of refreshing, actually.
Dorian’s presence reminded him of his request the day prior, so before he hung up, he asked Morgan if he’d be willing to meet with Dorian so he could apologize.
“I’m not sure…” Morgan said hesitantly.
“I can be there too, if you want. I promise, he’s not dangerous. He was neglecting his health and ignoring the need to feed. Stupid, yes. Dangerous, not so much. He feels genuinely remorseful about it, and he wants to apologize in person if you’ll let him. If not, he’d like to email instead.”
After taking a few minutes to think about it, Morgan eventually agreed. “Alright, we can do that. With you there, though, if you don’t mind. He really freaked me out yesterday.”
“I get that. And I promise, you’ll be safe. Can you text me when you’re free so I can share the information with him?” Hopefully, Dorian could figure out whatever the hell was going on with his feedings that made him feel so ill before meeting with a fragile human.
“Sure. I’ll send you a text. And Kian?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for protecting me. It means a lot. You’re a good friend.”
All the irritation he’d held for Morgan for spilling the beans evaporated, and he felt himself smiling. “You are too, Morgan. I’ll talk to you later. Have a good lunch.”
They hung up just as Dorian came back out of the breakroom, coffee in hand and his eyes locked on the cup. That insane urge to laugh at the vampire bubbled up, and he had topress his lips tightly together to stop himself. The guy seriously loved his coffee.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dorian ended up working late again, like he had often since taking this position. It was similar to when he first started at Spellbound. Lots of long hours to get the tech division up to where it needed to be. Normally, he wouldn’t mind, but because of his difficulty with the prior night’s feeding, he struggled to keep up with the demands of his position.
He got a message from Harlem a few hours prior letting him know he was going to get an earful for skipping another feeding, but at the time, he hadn’t been able to reply back. He felt awful for waking the kitsune, but he really needed to feed again. If it had been a regular night, he could miss a day without issue, but it felt as though he was slowly starving himself, and he couldn’t skip tonight.
“Hello?” Harlem’s voice was groggy, and he winced as he climbed behind the wheel of his car.
“Hello, Harlem. I hate to bother you so late–”
Harlem growled, annoyance evident. He never liked being woken up. Dorian made a mental note to warn Harlem’s new lover if they ever got the chance to meet. He’d met a few of Harlem’s dates before but not many. Most felt uncomfortable meeting him.
“I know. I’m sorry. I wish I could push it until tomorrow, but–”
“Just hurry up,” he grumbled. “You have a spare key. If I’m sleeping, don’t wake me. You’ve got full permission to take what you need and go.”
Dorian was glad Harlem couldn’t see his face, or he’d see the grimace. He didn't like the idea of feeding on an unconscious person, even if he had permission. It felt wrong, like he was taking advantage. He didn’t have room to argue right now, though. Had he prioritized his health, he would have left work sooner to meet with Harlem and feed normally. Dealing with the discomfort was his punishment for not leaving on time.
From the soft snores coming from the other line, he knew Harlem had already fallen back asleep. He hung up the phone instead of trying to wake him to continue the conversation, despite wishing he had someone to talk to. He was exhausted, and it worried him a little driving like that.
He managed to make it there safely and used his key to enter Harlem’s apartment. His feeder was well paid and liked to spoil himself with nice things. Dorian could admit to himself that he was partially to blame for that, since he was the one who found the apartment for him and he often brought the man gifts on special occasions. The man literally kept him alive by feeding him. It felt only fair to show his appreciation.
He’d need to get Harlem a gift as an apology for the trouble he was causing him lately.
He found Harlem sprawled across his bed, his phone near his face on the comforter, mouth wide open as he snored. With the way he was sprawled, his wrist was easily within reach. Dorian’s stomach tightened with discomfort, but he was careful not to wake his feeder as he kneeled beside the bed and gently took his wrist. It was when he let his fangs descend that the churning feeling from the night before reappeared. He pulledaway, frowning. It almost felt like he was going to be sick just thinking of feeding from Harlem. He’d never been sick in his life. He’d been alive several millennia and never had this problem before. What was going on?
He forced himself to ignore the churning, carefully biting into Harlem’s wrist. His feeder sighed, and a smile overtook his face for a moment before he started snoring again. But after only a few mouthfuls, Dorian couldn’t continue. It was taking everything in his power to keep down what little he’d taken. He swiped his tongue along the punctures to close the wound and sat heavily on the floor, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths until he felt he could stand without vomiting. His body shook from the effort, and he felt a little clammy, too.
Something was definitely wrong. Hopefully, Kian had some kind of answer for him. Because if not, he wasn’t sure what would happen to him.
