Page 119 of Worse Fates
My lips stay shut. We’ve had this discussion before, and the incoming lecture is one I’ve memorised word for word.
“The first week of a new vampire’s life is important, Golden, and you should be drinking four litres of blood a day. More since the amount of energy it took to heal your wounds, and how your…turning went.”
We don’t talk about that time. Where all I knew was pain. I push it down down down, I never want to think about it again. Never want those thoughts to resurface, or the things I begged Lucero to do.
Or to end, I should say.
Maybe one day we’ll talk about it.
Actually, fuck that, and I curl into Lucero instead.
Let that awful time fade into the past, from this point on I only want the future.
“Really, you should be ravenous.” He says the last part to himself, low and worried.
Because I haven’t been hungry at all.
It isn’t like the idea of drinking blood grosses me out. The first time Lucero brought a cup of blood to my lips I was salivating, it smelt salty and rich, I knew it’d be thick. Knew it’d coat my tongue and slide down my throat, all with the same sensual pleasure as when I take Lucero into my mouth.
Instinctively, I knew it’d fill my stomach and chase away this terrible cold.
Yet my hunger is non-existent and all I’ve managed is small sips.
Only from a cup, but...
“The only way for you to get stronger, Golden, is to feed more.”
“Your blood makes me feel stronger, Lucero…” I whisper, running my hand up to his neck to rest on his beating pulse. I might struggle to fill my stomach, but I can fill my lungs easy enough with his scent—wood burning. Warm and comforting.
Home. Yeah…Lucero smells like home.
“Golden…” His fingers tangle in my curls. “Beautiful, I can’t sustain you. You need human or animal blood.”
But he’s wrong. It’s the only thing that stops the shivering.
I might never want to touch the memories of my painful transformation again, but the memories of Lucero staying by my side? Those I’m keeping close forever.
His blood is warmth and safety—how could that be anything but good for me?
“Please, Lucero.”
He pauses, fingers still tangled in my curls, his blue gaze not just seeing me—but seeing through me. For Lucero, I am bared open in a way only he can unravel, and just as I gave him my forever, I give him my every thought and feeling and secret. Willingly. Gladly.
Then, after a minute that stretches on way too long, he gently tugs my head back. “Only if you promise to drink a whole glass of blood today. No more little sips.”
I want to grumble, push away and demand that I’ve actually been fine this whole time and prove it with an elaborate dance. But even if that was true, the concern creasing his forehead makes me want to take it away.
“A whole glass,” I promise, even as my stomach tightens.
Lucero’s lips tug up, so it’s worth the discomfort. “Good. You'll get your appetite soon, I have no doubt.”
Pressing myself flush against his hard chest, I nibble on my lower lip before asking, hopefully, “So…I can bite you now?”
His smile might be soft, indulgent, but his blue eyes darken and there's a scent I can’t quite capture. Like his wood burning smell has cracked open, releasing a smoky blend of cedar and amber.
My soft dick gives a half-hearted twitch before promptly falling back asleep.
“C’mon, beautiful. Show me those pretty fangs,” Lucero tells me, low and eyes hooded.
