“B-but,” I sputter. “He’s a real vampire.”
“Yes, dear.” Her voice is soothing, soft, but I feel anything but comforted. Mrs. Potts tucks her gray hair efficiently behind one ear and watches me with kind blue eyes, but I’m not deterred.
“Which means he drinks human blood.” My tone is unamused, serious.
Mrs. Potts only nods, like I’ve asked if he takes oatmeal for breakfast, or some other benign question that doesn’t even bear answering.
She folds her hands in her lap and meets my eyes again. “You’ll get used to it around here. And I think before long, you’ll find this is quite like any other working environment you’ve been in.”
Oh sure, yes. A blood-thirsty vampire lurking around dark corners. It’s exactly the same as being a children’s librarian in Cincinnati. What the hell kind of place is this? No amount of intervention from her is going to make me believe any of this is normal.
Determined, I head to the closet to begin packing my things. Mrs. Potts is hot on my trail. She’s quite spritely for an older lady.
“I can’t stay here,” I inform her. “It’s just…” Never going to work. It’s too absurd. I don’t trust the things I feel when I’m near him. Tonight, at dinner… No. I can’t even let myself think the things I was feeling tonight at dinner.
No.
She places her hand gently on my shoulder. “I have worked for Reign for eight years. Three years in Montreal. A year in Paris, because he needed a change of scenery and has a lovely apartment there. And now four years here. He has never, not even once…”
“Bitten you?” I supply.
“Never,” she confirms. “You’re safe here. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”
I’m not so sure. I know this sounds crazy and inexplicable, but I could feel Reign’s desire for me. I could feel my blood pumping quicker for him, heating and… I shake my head. No, it’s too insane to even consider.
“Still, I just can’t. This isn’t…”
Her hand on my shoulder gives a light squeeze before falling away. “The decision is yours, of course. But, please, stay until the end of the week. It’s just three more days.”
I consider it. I can flee, but go where? If I leave, I’ll have no job, and no place to live. I can’t go back home. My mother won’t allow it. That door closed when I was sixteen. Which is not something I even care to think about right now. Not when I’m dealing with all of this.
For reasons even I don’t understand, I nod my head.
I guess her warm smile wore me down. Well, that and the fact that she is still alive after eight years of working for Reign Tryst. That has to count for something, right?
“Okay,” I hear myself say. “Just until the end of the week.”
Somehow the thought of seeing Reign again over the next few days is enough to quiet the discomfort in my brain. Because, even though it makes me shiver with uncertainty, and even though there’s a hint of danger quietly lurking beneath the surface of all of our interactions, part of me isn’t quite ready to go.
Chapter 6
Reign
“Well, fancy seeing you here again,” Josephine Baker, owner of Baker’s Bloods greets me at the door.
I give her my best relaxed smile, pushing down my inner nerves. “How can I stay away when you offer such fine, fresh, goods?”
Josephine laughs and waves me through the door.
While Alastair may get off on dining in unlicensed dives, I much prefer the more legal route of a member club for my nutritional needs. Baker’s is the most expensive and reputable, even though I have to drive a few hours to reach it.
The trip here wasn’t planned, but neither was my insatiable appetite for the new human Mrs. Potts saw fit to hire. Having fed, I’ll feel much more in control now and able to face her. At least, I’m hopeful that will be the case.
I find my way back to a private room. It’s dark, as usual, with low lighting, a few unscented candles, and black walls. I feel relaxed here. Like I can take a breath for the first time in days.
There’s a light knock at the door and I call back for them to enter.
“If it isn’t my favorite customer.” Carly smiles.
“You say that to everyone,” I tease her. Carly is a nice woman with fairly delicious-tasting blood. She’s fully licensed by the state to provide a certain amount of fresh, direct from the vein blood each week. Just enough that she doesn’t become unhealthy. It’s a service I greatly appreciate, although I pay well for the privilege too.
In fact, I’m so used to this almost clinical approach to feeding that I can barely even recall my younger years, before vampires were outed and our rights established, when we used to hunt for a meal. It seems so cruel and brutish, thinking back on it.
Carly is dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and black tie, as if she is some sort of waiter. I watch as she carefully removes her jacket and neatly hangs it up. Then she unbuttons the shirt sleeve and rolls it high. Glancing my way, question in her eyes, she asks, “Is the wrist still your preference?”
I nod and shift in my seat. If this was Tressa, I’d want her neck, or inner thigh, someplace tender and sensual. But with Carly, I like to keep it more professional. Where did that thought come from? I won’t be feeding from Tressa, obviously.
The water whooshes in the sink as she cleans the area for me. I think it rather ruins the taste a bit, because there is something sumptuous about the sweat on the skin, the salty taste that adds to the tangy iron flavor. But I don’t want to make her uncomfortable by admitting as much.
The kind woman sits next to me on the red velvet couch, crossing her legs. She hooks a monitor to her free arm, a little pulse oximeter on her finger. These are all required precautions they are mandated to take, although I can monitor her pulse through my mouth just fine to know when to stop.
“Ready then?” she asks.
I lick my lips, nodding and breathless, imagining how amazing this would be if the sweet-smelling Tressa could be under my lips. But no. I need to push those thoughts away. I don’t feed off my employees. Plus, it’s against the law to feed off humans who are not registered as donors.
Grabbing Carly’s wrist in both hands quickly, which causes her to let out a little surprised gasp, as if she didn’t see it coming, I raise the flesh to my mouth.
As soon as my fangs sink in, I begin to drink my fill, sucking harder and faster than I usually do. In what seems like no time, the warning monitors begin to beep. I want to keep going, but if I’m going to keep my membership here, I must stop. I release my fangs from her wrist.
Carly grabs a gauze pad and presses it to the barely bleeding twin wounds.
She gives me a melancholy smile.
“I’m sorry, was that not okay?” I ask, confused at her pained expression.
Shaking her head, she pats my thigh. “It was fine. A little needier than usual, especially considering it hasn’t been that long since you last fed. Is everything okay? Are you under more stress than usual, Reign?”
I scrub a hand over my face. “No. It’s fine. It’s just, I have a new human employee, and her scent is really, really distracting.” I don’t know why I’m admitting this to Carly. Maybe I just need someone to vent to. Alastair is obviously not an option. Mrs. Potts will be worried if I tell her the truth. Carly is my best bet right now for dropping this weight off my shoulders.