Page 74 of Bite
A trickle of unease trails down my spine. “Should I be worried?”
His thumb drags lightly over the curve of my cheek, moonlight catching in his eyes. “Not with me, darling,” he says, voice edged with steel. “But trust no one else.”
With that, he ushers me down the staircase and to the car idling in the circle drive, the two of us tucking into the back seat and setting off.
The drive stretches over an hour, the city slowly peeling away behind us. We cut north through the sprawl– past the old industrial district, then into the manicured quiet of the suburbs. Every house looks like it was designed from the same catalog of power and money, with stone facades, wrought-iron gates, and driveways long enough to hide secrets.
Inside the car, it’s quiet except for the purr of the engine and the rhythmic thrum of tires over asphalt. James sits beside me, angled toward the window and scrolling on his phone. He seems more on edge than usual, and it’s wreaking havoc on my anxiety.
I shift my weight, smoothing the fabric of my dress, pretending the silence doesn’t bother me.
It definitely does.
“You seem tense,” I finally say, keeping my tone light.
“These gatherings are tedious,” James mumbles, not looking up from his phone.
I frown, eyes flicking over the sharp lines of his profile. “Did you want to feed beforehand?”
He lifts his head, mouth curving in a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I’ve come to expect the unexpected at these things. I’m sharper when I’m hungry.”
I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be reassuring or ominous, so I just let the conversation fizzle out as the city light fades to black in the rearview. Ahead, the darkness thickens into forest, dense rows of cypress and sycamore lining the road. The headlights sweep through their branches, catching glints of silver bark and the flash of wildlife darting for cover.
After driving through the wilderness for what feels like forever, we turn down a long private drive threaded through atunnel of trees. The house at the end is enormous– a modernist chateau of glass and stone, angular and imposing, every surface washed in the soft glow of amber lighting. It looks like a damn fortress disguised as art.
The car rolls to a stop at the base of the front steps, James opening his door and stepping out with quiet command. He offers me his arm, and I take it without hesitation. The stress of this whole thing has me ridiculously imbalanced– the last thing I want to do is to trip over myself in front of vampire royalty.
James looks so impossibly gorgeous beneath the moonlight that my knees wobble anyway. I tighten my grip on his arm as we approach the front door, a butler opening it with a flourish and ushering us inside. The entryway is breathtaking– sleek, modern, and minimalist, with an abstract art piece as a chandelier dangling overhead. I take it all in as the butler collects our coats, then gestures toward a set of double doors ahead.
James’ hand lands on the small of my back to guide me forward, and I glance up to find his expression calm, detached, utterly in control. But as the doors swing open, I swear I feel his muscles tense.
Sound and scent hit first. Music– delicate strings weaving through the hum of conversation– mingled with the cloying perfume of expensive cologne and cigar smoke. The air itself feels heavy, decadent to the point of suffocation.
And then I see the table.
It dominates the room, a glossy expanse of black lacquer stretching nearly wall to wall. For a heartbeat, I think it’s a traditional banquet– until I realize there’s no food. No plates.
Just people.
Bodies are arranged artfully along the entire length of the table, draped over silk cushions. Men and women of varying ages and complexions, all strikingly beautiful, all stark naked.Some are sprawled on their backs while others recline on their sides, limbs lazily intertwined. A few are actively being fed on, panting and writhing at the press of fangs in their skin.
My stomach twists. My feet stop moving. Every instinct screamsdanger.
James leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “It’s rude to stare, darling,” he murmurs, the teasing tone almost soft enough to disguise the command behind it.
His palm splays wider against my back, urging me forward with gentle pressure. I snap my mouth shut and force myself to move. While my gait is unsteady, James sweeps into the room like he owns it.
Around the edges, plush chairs and sofas are occupied by vampires lounging like nobility in some macabre salon. They sip liquor from crystal tumblers, exchanging idle conversation and moving to the table for a taste of flesh whenever the mood strikes. The group closest to us– three men and a woman– look like they’re in the midst of a meeting for supervillains, eyeing us as we enter and murmuring to one another conspiratorially.
“James!” one of the men calls out, throwing up an arm to wave him over. “Add your donor to the buffet and come join us.”
I stiffen, but James slides his arm around my waist and tucks me in closer to his side. “Marilyn is my exclusive donor,” he replies smoothly. “Her blood is mine, and mine alone.”
A ripple of laughter and murmured interest follows.
“And here I thought you were the pickiest among us,” the female vamp purrs, her bright green eyes snapping to me. She’s got fiery hair and a mouth made for cruelty, the sheer fabric of her black dress leaving nothing to the imagination. “She must be delicious,” she adds, gaze cutting over me with slow, predatory delight.
“She is,” James agrees, his hand closing around my hip possessively.
