Page 55 of Caller of Crows
Altair didn't say anything, but his eyes flickered, a trace of emotion showing in their dark depths.
"Well, fuck you. My blood is not yours to take."
"And how are you going to stop me?" Altair asked, his voice soft, deadly.
Sven swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
He couldn't, could he?
He was alone in here. No matter how hard he tried, his stubbornness wouldn't change the fact that the vampire could force him to give his blood, and there was nothing Sven could do about it.
"Exactly," Altair murmured. "So let's not play games." His gaze fixed on Sven with a dangerous glint and Sven cursed himself. When the vampire looked at him likethat, it was hard for him not to want him, no matter how messed up the entire situation was.
Sven glared at him. "Fine. Take my blood, then."
"Not here." Altair grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up from the bed. "We'll go to the donation room where I took you last time."
Sven didn't resist, letting Altair drag him along. Maybe a change of scenery would do him good. He and Altair had fucked in this bedroom, but the donation room was medical, sterile. It wouldn't remind him of the way Altair had touched him, the way he'd bared his soul for the vampire.
Altair brought him to the donation room and locked the door behind him, and then he guided Sven toward the reclining chair, his grip on Sven's arm firm.
Sven didn't put up a fight, letting himself be maneuvered until Altair had him exactly where he wanted.
"Sit."
"Yes, sir." Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
Altair glanced at the straps that hung loosely from the arms of the chair. "Do I need to use these?"
"No."
Altair arched a dark eyebrow at him.
"No, I won't try anything," Sven gritted out.
"Good."
Sven was shaking a little as he sat down, and not just because of his anger. He hated himself for how much his body responded to Altair's proximity, how much it anticipated the vampire's touch. His heart was racing in his chest and the faintest touch of arousal was curling in his belly, even though this wasn't the time or place for it.
It seemed the change of scenery was not helping because the thing he was reacting to wasn't a location or a memory. It was this damn vampire and every little thing he did.
"Stretch out your arm," the vampire said.
Sven hesitated. Did he really want to make this easy for Altair?
The thing was, he didn't mind it when the vampire bit him, but this… having his blood drawn by a needle felt so much more degrading.
And what if he had a bad reaction again the way he had the first time? Would Altair care for him then? And would that confuse Sven even more?
"Sven." Altair's voice was quiet but insistent, and the way he looked at Sven, he knew exactly what Sven was thinking.
Damn it.
"You're reading my mind again," Sven accused.
Altair didn't try to deny it, but then, Sven hadn't expected him to. "I'm not doing this to punish you," the vampire said. "If you took a look at the other covens in the country, you'd find that most blood suppliers are treated much worse than you are."
Sven frowned. "What, am I supposed to be grateful now?"
