Page 102 of Bite
Taylor seems perfectly content with the small talk. I, on the other hand, am not above resorting to violence if he doesn’t get to the point soon.
“So, what’s the verdict?” I finally ask. “Did we pass the bonding test, or are we going to sprout fur at the next full moon?”
He sets his whiskey down on the side table, then adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t need them to see– vampires have perfect vision– yet he chooses to wear them as a damn fashion statement.Ridiculous.
“It’s not that kind of bond,” he says dryly, dark eyes glinting behind his lenses. “But if you’d like, I can keep you under observation for the next lunar cycle.”
Taylor snickers, her toes flexing lazily against the armrest. “I think you’d rather cut us up and see what’s inside.”
“Don’t tempt him,” I murmur, threading my fingers through hers. I lift her hand and press a kiss to the back of it, breathing in the scent of her skin.
Elliott’s mouth quirks in his version of a laugh. “You’re not wrong. But before I resort to dissection, I have something I want to show you both. A demonstration, if you will.”
He flips open the clasps on his briefcase and extracts a velvet-lined tray, setting it carefully on the coffee table. It contains two vials of blood, sealed and labeled with our names, along with a slender glass test tube and dropper.
“Ooh,” Taylor coos as she sits up, curiosity overriding her lethargy. I wore her out at sunset, but she bounces back faster these days.Another perk of our bond.
Eli aligns the vials side by side. The liquid inside each is almost identical, except for texture. Mine’s thicker, nearly black, while hers is a deep garnet that gleams in the firelight. Just the sight of it stirs my hunger.
“These are the samples I took from you weeks ago, before the bond fused,” he says, voice falling into the cadence of a lecture. “As you know, I already tested them for compatibility. Thesurprise wasn’t the diagnostics, but how the blood reacted when mixed. It takes a lot to impress me, but this…”
I arch a brow. “Are you going to show us, or just keep talking about it?”
He ignores me, drawing a small sample from Taylor’s vial with the dropper and depositing it into a test tube. “Normal blood, no surprises here,” he narrates, swirling the tube. The liquid clings to the glass, sliding down in slow, viscous ribbons.
My mouth waters.
“Now,” he continues, unscrewing the cap on the second vial, “if we add yours…”
He proceeds to add a few drops of my blood, then sets the dropper aside, swirling the test tube with a surgeon’s precision.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then the blood begins toglow.
It starts as a faint ember at the base of the glass; a quiet shimmer like the first spark of dawn. But as he keeps swirling, the light spreads, creeping like fire through oil until the entire mixture burns with a deep, incandescent red. It pulses like a heartbeat, impossibly alive.
Taylor leans forward, elbows braced on her knees, mouth parted in awe. “Is that supposed to happen?”
“If you’re bonded, yes,” he replies, ever the academic. “The reaction occurs on contact, but the real test is stability.”
He sets the tube down, the glow already staring to fade.
“Now, if you’d kindly offer your veins…”
We do. He moves with methodical grace, drawing a small sample from each of us before returning to his chair. Our blood vials are placed on either side of the original test tube, and while the center glow wanes, our fresh, newly-bonded blood burns steadily.
“And there’s your confirmation,” Eli says, like a magician revealing the trick’s final turn. “The continued reactivityconfirms the bond is in full effect. Taylor, have you noticed any changes in your physiology since the bonding?”
She glances at me before answering. “You mean the strength, the senses…?”
He nods.
“Yeah,” she breathes, head bobbing.
“Good,” he replies. “That means you’re sharing James’ traits now. Over time, those will continue to amplify. Theoretically, the longer you remain connected, the more profound the transformation. For both of you.”
Taylor’s eyes widen. For a second, I think she might bolt, but she only sinks back into the cushions, letting the information roll over her like a tide.
“Do I have to keep drinking his blood for it to stick?” she asks, brow furrowing.
