Page 85 of Bite
Elliott and James watch her go, then turn their attention on me, the intensity of it like sunlight through a magnifying glass. The quiet stretches for a beat too long before James finally speaks.
“Would now be a good time to draw the sample?” he asks, voice calm and measured.
My stomach knots. I glance at the doctor, who tips his head with a faint, clinical smile. Without a word, he rises and steps toward the sideboard. A sleek black briefcase waits, almost as if he’d been anticipating this moment all along.
A shiver runs down my spine at the realization that he came prepared. This wasn’t as spur-of-the-moment as they made it seem– heplannedit.
James doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He just watches me, expression blank and unreadable. My gut twists, palms going clammy.
Elliott returns with the briefcase in hand, setting it down on the table beside me. He pulls out the neighboring chair and sits, flipping open the case to reveal neatly arranged vials and sterile instruments that gleam under the chandelier’s light. His hands move with precise efficiency, plucking out tools and getting set up to draw my sample.
I swallow hard, gripping the edge of my chair as I watch him work. “You really think there’s something special about my blood?” I ask, more out of nerves than anything.
“I intend to find out,” Elliott murmurs absently. “Since James won’t allow me to taste you for myself, exploring the science behind it seems like the next best thing.”
My gaze darts over to James. He leans back slightly, glass in hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He doesn’t intervene, doesn’t offer comfort. He just watches, quiet and deliberate, as if my reactions are as much of a part of the experiment as the blood itself.
Though if he refused to grant the doctor a taste…maybe he’s not done with me after all.
“Ready?” Elliott asks.
I nod, my pulse racing as he slides a thin band around my bicep, the chill of the tourniquet making my nerves flare. Then, almost ritualistically, he swabs my inner elbow and inserts the needle. The burn is sharp, but fleeting. My chest tightens as I glance back over at James, our eyes locking.
Elliott works methodically, filling several vials and snapping each cap into place with a soft click. He deposits them in thebriefcase, then removes the needle from my vein and dabs some Rapi-Gen cream over the puncture mark.
Just as he’s snapping the case shut, Anna returns. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in the scene– her boss beside me, briefcase closed, vials safely tucked inside. She doesn’t say anything, just hovers at the doorway, bearing silent witness to what just happened.
James’ gaze flicks toward her briefly, then returns to me, lingering in a way that makes my skin hum. “Why don’t you show Anna the library?” he suggests, swirling the wine in his glass. “We’ll join you shortly.”
I blink back at him, caught off guard. His gaze flicks to Elliott, then back to me, calm and commanding.
Anna brightens, sensing a reprieve. “The library?” she asks eagerly. “I’d love that.”
Nodding stiffly, I push my chair back and slowly rise. My limbs feel heavy, tingling from the lingering aftershocks of blood loss. I meet Anna at the door, and together we start down the long, echoing hall toward the west wing.
“He likes you, you know,” Anna remarks as we pass a row of oil paintings, her tone conspiratorial.
“Who, James?” I ask, furrowing my brow.
She barks a laugh. “No, Elliott. He barely speaks to most humans, so he clearly finds you fascinating.”
“I promise I’m not,” I scoff, cheeks heating. “I’m as ordinary as they come.”
“No ordinary girl could captivate the infamous James Devereaux like you have,” she says, side-eyeing me. “His obsession with you is all the vamps are talking about lately.”
“Yeah, well…” I trail off as we reach the library, Anna’s eyes lighting up the moment we enter. She immediately darts toward the nearest shelf, running her hand along the spines of the aged books and letting out a soft gasp.
“These are all first editions,” she whispers, awed.
Her enthusiasm is so infectious I can’t even be mad about the change in subject. I drift closer, watching the way she marvels at the dusty old hardbacks.
“Yeah… James likes books,” I murmur, instantly regretting how dumb it sounds.
Anna whirls to face me, eyes locking on mine. “Look, you seem nice,” she says, leaning in and dropping her voice low. “I don’t want to scare you, but please be careful.”
My pulse skips. “Careful of what?”
“Ofthem. The vamps. Even the ones who claim they’re different.” She hesitates, glancing toward the door before leaning in even closer. “Elliott’s been working on some new research lately, top secret stuff. Something about ancient blood ties, a throwback gene or something. He won’t tell me the details, but… it seems dangerous.”
