Page 31 of Blind Bite
My new fangs descended involuntarily again, prickling my lower lip. My own blood tasted nothing like the cup Jamie had given me. Warm and rich, the most delicious thing I had ever had. It was a flavor I couldn’t quite describe other than intoxicating.
What was happening to me? How was I supposed to live like this? Trapped in my room by sunlight, feared by my own cat, and craving something I knew deep down I could kill for, if desperate enough.
I slid down the wall, hugging my knees to my chest, and did the only thing that made sense.
I cried.
Chapter Twenty-One
The tears ran dry eventually. No more self-pity—I needed to figure this out.
Day one of vampire life crawled by in my darkened room. I taped blankets over my windows with shipping tape from my desk drawer. Not pretty, but effective. At least until the new curtains I’d ordered came in.
I searched “vampire” online. Between the fanfic sites and gothic role play forums, I found nothing useful. No “Vampirism for Dummies” or “So You’ve Been Turned Into a Bloodsucker” guides.
My throat burned. The hunger intensified with each passing hour.
I texted Jamie.
* * *
Lilith
How am I supposed to drink blood without hurting someone? How do I control this? Please help.
* * *
No response.
Amelie knocked on my door around midnight. “Lil? You okay? I know you said you couldn’t eat, but I brought home both of the soups anyway. I can warm it up if you’d like.”
I smelled her—not her perfume or shampoo—but her. The rich, copper tang of blood that pumped beneath her skin. My gums ached as my fangs descended.
“Don’t come in!” I pressed against the door. “Really contagious. Doctor said quarantine.”
“Since when did you see a doctor?”
“Telehealth,” I lied, “please, Ames. I’m fine.”
She paused. “You’re sure you’re just sick? You could tell me anything, you know.”
“I promise, I’m just really sickly and gross. Nothing else.” I fought to keep my tone even. The lie was bitter in my mouth, something else had happened and it had changed my life for the worst.
She sighed. “At least make sure you’re getting enough fluids. There’s a drink by your door when you need it.”
The sound of her footsteps carrying her away from my room was a relief to my ears. Sliding out of bed, I gently cracked open my door, ensuring she wasn’t watching before I grabbed the drink she left. Full of electrolytes and boasts about being super hydrating, the perfect thing for someone who was sick in bed all day. The kindness nearly broke me.
Day two was worse. The hunger became a living thing inside me, clawing at my insides. I paced my room, checking my phone obsessively.
Still nothing from Jamie.
Amelie’s heartbeat—I could actually hear it through the walls—was like a metronome counting down to disaster. Each pulse called to me. I dug my nails into my palms until they bled.
If only my own blood could curve the sensation.
By evening, I was hallucinating. The walls drew closer and closer. I could hear every neighbor in our building, their conversations, their breathing, their blood.
I texted Jamie again.
