Page 15 of Fanged Desire
Hunter
“Been a while since your last visit.” Caden, my ever-cheerful companion and personal confidant slouched into the room with all the urgency of a garden snail.
He sunk into the sofa opposite me, running a hand through salt-and-pepper curls in dire need of a trimming. “I thought you’d found some younger, hotter blood bag to satisfy your needs.”
“Please.” I leaned forward, shooing his boot off the coffee table between us. “None of those vampire wannabes could ever compare to you.”
“You flatter me.” Caden chuckled, his arm already extended, wrist offered with the casual familiarity of someone who’d done this many times before. “But is it really my criminal good looks that keep you around, or are you just not interested in putting on a show for the more… enthusiastic blood donors.”
“Little bit of both.” I hauled myself to my feet and perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. “Most donors wantto be more than a quick snack. And my days of debauchery are over.”
“A pity really.” Caden feigned despondency, propping his head up on one knuckle. “I’m sure there’re plenty of pretty donors who’d jump at the chance of a contract with you.”
“A damn shame,” I said wryly, leaning forward and biting down gently on his wrist.
We had been meeting like this for years. Other donors had come and gone, contracts signed and nullified as my attention waxed and waned. Caden, however, was something of a staple diet. It was rare for my kind to avoid the allure of sensual feeding, but Caden and I had a different kind of bond.
“You know, they finally finished that new freeway over by Glenridge.” Caden’s voice was a rumble in his throat. A gentle giant of a man. “Took them months longer than they were supposed to. My commute’s still a nightmare, though.”
“Mhmm,” I mumbled, half-listening as my fangs punctured his skin and I felt the warm rush of blood fill my mouth. I savored it – the richness, the vitality – but it wasn’t the frenzy others might assume. It was just... routine.
Unlike my vampiric associates, I was not born a vampire – I was turned at the tender age of twenty-nine. While they could sate themselves on pretty much any kind of blood; animal, human, fresh or bottled, I was not afforded that luxury. Turned vampires had to get their blood fresh, straight from the source. And for us, only one source would do – human.
I settled into feeding, drinking my fill, while Caden launched into his usual monologue about work, traffic, and – of course – his family. His voice was a grounding hum in the background, filling the quiet space. I had never been one for deep conversations, but this arrangement, this strange mukbang-therapy-session hybrid, was comforting. I fed, he talked, and we both got what we needed.
“Kids are driving me up the wall,” Caden grumbled, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the arm of the sofa. “And Marcy’s council meeting is next week. You know how she gets before those things – tense as hell. Kinda scares me a little. I’m afraid one of these days she’s gonna put a curse on my pickle just for looking at her wrong.”
Caden’s wife, Marcy, was a witch – a well-known one in supernatural circles these days. That was part of why our arrangement worked so well. Caden was used to the unusual.
I straightened up and wiped the corner of my mouth, licking the last drop of blood from my lips.
“I’m sure you and your pickle will be fine,” I reassured him, rifling through my pockets to fish out a band-aid. “Marcy loves you. The only one she’s gonna be cursing is me if I keep you longer than necessary.”
Caden gave a short laugh. “Yeah, true. But you know how witches are. Drama, rituals, dead animals in the freezer when you went looking for pop-tarts. Can’t help but feel out of my depth sometimes.”
The conversation lulled for a moment as Caden smoothed the band-aid over the puncture wounds on his wrist. When he met my eye, his expression softened and I braced myself for the incoming inquisition.
“How have you been holding up?” he asked gently.
My jaw tightened. I knew where this was going, and I was inclined to send the light-hearted conversation to a grinding halt.
“I don’t want to talk abouther, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Selene. The very thought of her always stirred up something – guilt, regret. Mostly a whole lot of self-loathing and a sprinkle of self-sabotage.
“She’s doing well,” Caden informed me anyway, ignoring my dismal attempt at disinterest. “Seems happy. Settled.”
I said nothing, directing all my attention to the very important task of staring at the floor.
Caden was a friend of Selene’s, he had been both before and after our relationship went catatonic. Now he existed as the last lingering thread that connected us. He seemed to think filling me in on her wellbeing would do me some good.
After a beat of heavy silence, Caden spoke again, more gently than I deserved. “You didn’t ruin her, you know–”
“I know.” My voice was tight, my answer too quick leaving my lips.
“You’re allowed to move on.” Caden leaned forward, waiting for me to meet his gaze. “Selene’s fine, and you’ve got your own life to live.”
I let out a dry chuckle, and felt it echo through the hollow cavern in my chest. “Easier said than done.”
