Page 8 of The Vampire's Receptionist
“I got a personal call and needed a moment,” Dorian lied smoothly. “I’m sorry I was hogging the breakroom.”
It wasn’t the worst lie he could’ve come up with. Joey looked skeptical, though.
“You didn’t want to use your office for that? Isn’t it more private?”
“I got the call while coming out here for more coffee.”
Joey’s gaze slid to his right a few inches, and Dorian looked over his shoulder to see the empty coffee pot a few feet away. His lie was unraveling fast.
“I was going to make more when I got the call. Are you on your lunch? Why are you on this floor?”
“The microwave broke on our floor, and the temp handling reception doesn’t know how to get it fixed. Figured I’d just use the one up here,” Joey said, his voice still tinged with suspicion. “Was someone else here with you?” He shot a pointed look at the lunches on the table. The lunches of the two men Dorian had forced to portal to get away from him. He would never forgive himself for letting it get so bad. He knew better.
“Those were there when I got here. I’m sorry, but I need to go. Enjoy your lunch.”
Hightailing it out of the breakroom was only a little embarrassing. Thinking about what he was going to say to the man who’d offered up his own blood to protect him from himself compounded the embarrassment. What the hell had he been thinking?
Once he was safely ensconced in his office, he dropped into his chair and buried his face in his hands, letting out a groan. He’d been alive almost longer than all of his friends, and yet he somehow managed to let himself get into a situation where he couldn’t control himself. He was too old to act this way. It was shameful. The things his mother would say if she knew.
A pang of sadness tugged in his chest at the thought of his mother. Vampires were almost immortal compared to the rest of the races. He thought he had a lot more time with her. But vampires were one of the few species who couldn’t match their lifespans to their mate’s. The nonsense that humans made up about vampires turning people was just that; nonsense. His mother’s mate wasn’t his father, they’d gotten divorced long before she met George, and when he passed on, she chose toend her life to go with him. That was six months ago, and it still stung. He hadn’t even had the nerve to tell his friends yet.
He banished the heartache away. He had more important things to focus on. Namely, apologizing both to the young human who he’d nearly attacked, and to Kian, who’d stopped him from doing the unimaginable. There were severe consequences for vampires who took blood without consent. Consequences Dorian agreed with wholeheartedly. He wouldn’t have fought them if he’d actually managed to hurt someone.
It was almost like Kian knew that when he plainly told him he had consent to feed from him. He knew the right words to make him feel at ease enough to accept his offer.
Harlem was going to be pissed.
He wasn’t in any kind of relationship with his feeder, but Harlem had been with him for years and while exclusivity wasn’t part of their contract, they’d been working together long enough that it felt like it was. Dorian was sure he’d understand after he explained, but it was probable that he’d get yelled at anyway. He almost wished he could hide it from the man just to avoid it. He didn't have the energy to be berated right now.
He was still debating how long he could go to avoid it when the universe answered by having Harlem call him instead. His head dropped forward in defeat. Nothing was going the way he’d hoped in the past few weeks.
Picking up the phone, he put it up to his ear. “Hello, Harlem.”
“Oh, so you remember I exist? I thought maybe you forgot. Either that, or you’re ignoring your health again in favor of overworking yourself. So which one is it?”
“That latter, I’m afraid,” he replied. It was better not to argue. It would only piss the kitsune off. “Listen–”
“No, you listen. You haven’t eaten in a week. That’s not only idiotic, it’s dangerous. I’m putting my foot down. I’m comingover tonight. You’re going to feed before you accidentally hurt someone.”
His feeder was a good friend, and he appreciated the concern. He probably should’ve just popped in when he needed to earlier. It would make this conversation significantly less painful.
“Unfortunately, it’s a little late for that. I–”
“What?! What happened? I called your office, so you can’t be in prison right now. You didn’t beguile someone, did you? That’s so fucking gross, Dorian! You know how important freely given consent is! It doesn’t count if you beguile them first!”
It was hard to get a word in edgewise when Harlem was on a rant. He had to raise his voice just to get through to him. “I didn't beguile anyone, Harlem, I promise. I did almost attack someone. One of the new temps offered to feed me, because I waited too long. I’m sorry. It was a matter of safety. I didn’t want to accidentally hurt someone.”
The line went quiet, and he winced. The guilt was overwhelming, both for betraying his friendship with Harlem and for what happened this afternoon. He should have listened to himself when he decided he needed to call Harlem earlier.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Harlem demanded, a hint of hurt in his voice.
“I meant to. I swear, I did. I was going to finish my shift and go straight to your apartment. But I was a little out of it, and one of the men in the breakroom got a paper cut. Just the smell of blood set me off. I–”
“No, you idiot! Why didn’t you call me sooner? You should’ve never let it go this far! People are going to think I’m a bad feeder for not taking care of you!”
He didn’t have anything to say to that aside from, “I should have. I’m sorry.”
Harlem let out a frustrated growl, and Dorian could practically see the man stomping his foot. His feeder was a little dramatic sometimes, but he was a good person. Dorian hadn’t even considered how it would look for him if he ended up lashing out. Feeders reputations were important for them to continue working. If their feeder relationship ever ended, it would reflect badly on Harlem in the future if something went wrong while Dorian was under his care.
