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After taking my first Blood, my hormones had gone into overdrive. Miserably long and bloody periods with vicious cramps, draining my power and nearly incapacitating me for a fucking week.
Not that my Blood complained one bit. They loved every drop of my blood, but period blood contained goddess-level mind-blowing power, and for good reason. It was the only time a queen could get pregnant. Human men might be turned off by menses but for an Aima, nothing was hotter.
:Not fair,: Daire protested in the bond. :I’ll gladly lick every drop you’ll give me, but I hate when you’re miserable.:
He’d walked behind me down the long procession during my formal presentation to House Skye, licking my period blood off the floor. My foot. My calf. He’d have been more than happy to slip beneath my dress and clean every inch of my body if I’d let him.
“A little better,” I said aloud to Dr. Borcht. “I only bled for five days, and it wasn’t as heavy this time.” Though honestly, I wondered if it was my body adjusting for my growing hunger than any human medicine she’d given me. I couldn’t afford to lose so much blood right now.
“And the cramping?”
I shrugged. “The same. Not debilitating but I’d definitely rather be in bed with a cup of tea or taking a long hot bath than actually doing anything.”
Gina gave me a stern look. “Which you should do much more often. Let us take care of you as befitting a queen of your stature.”
Now it was my turn to sigh. “I’ve got too much to do to take a week off every single month. Just look at that stack of papers you’re dying to show me.”
A stack of black folders sat on the table to her right, nearly a foot tall.
“All of this can wait indefinitely. Especially if your health is at stake.” She picked up the entire stack and dropped it back into a leather satchel on the floor. “The Isador legacy was shut down for more than twenty years, and we lost you for five. All of this can certainly wait a few days or even years until you’re ready to deal with it.”
“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” Guillaume said over his shoulder, standing guard at the back door. “Especially not on twelve Blood.”
“I’m fine.” My voice rang with a little more volume than I intended, betraying exactly how not fine I really was. Under the table, Daire pressed closer to my legs, his purr like distant thunder. Rik kneaded my shoulders, trying to ease the tension straining in me.
“The results from the last blood draw were concerning,” Dr. Borcht said. “Your red blood cell count was down significantly, and anemia will contribute to your feeling of weakness and tiredness. After your recent period, I’m afraid you’re likely even more anemic. Are you feeding enough?”
My jaws tightened, and I bit back a retort. Every day and night, every fucking Blood, and it’s still not enough.
Gina reached over and closed her fingers over my clenched fist. “Oh, Shara. What’s wrong? How can we help?”
My shoulders slumped and my throat ached, but I forced myself to admit the truth. “No, I’m not feeding enough despite our best efforts. Rik has started rationing my blood until I manage to call more Blood to join us.”
“It’s no hardship on us, my queen,” he said. “You’ve been more generous than any queen I’ve ever heard of. Cutting back on what you give us for a short time is the least we can do until you feel better.”
“I could give you a high dose shot of iron,” Dr. Borcht said. “It’s only a short-term solution but it might help for a day or two. Do you have a sense of how long it’ll take before more Blood arrive?”
And here, at last, was the real source of my short temper and anxiety.
“No,” I whispered hoarsely. “I can’t feel them. I sent the Call out, but I don’t feel even a hint of anyone approaching yet.”
Meanwhile, every time I fed, the bodies of unconscious Blood littered the bed and every flat surface in the room.
“There was a line of at least ten people at the gate when I arrived,” Dr. Borcht said slowly. “I assumed they were Blood candidates asking to swear to House Isador.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that easy. None of them are mine to call.”
“Fucking Blood dropping like fucking flies,” Ezra muttered. Then he grunted softly. I assumed one of the other Blood punched him, but then I caught the whiff of his blood.
My hands trembled, my fingers clenching so hard I tasted my own blood through my wicked nails. And Daire’s. His warcat wound through my mind, sleek fur and muscle, rumbling, soothing purr. I was only half aware of my nails gouged into his throat, his head on my lap beneath the table.
“Go make yourself useful and drop like a fucking fly.” Guillaume’s low voice rang like steel. I turned my head, catching the glint of silver in his hand.
Blood poured from a surprisingly large stab wound on Ezra’s side. Usually G’s cuts were neat and tidy, not gaping punctures. Another illustration of how tightly wound we all were. They felt my need intensely, driven and desperate to satisfy me.
Even if it killed them again and again and again.
Tears burned my eyes, even as my stomach knotted desperately for the rich blood dripping down the front of Ezra’s shirt.
