Page 12 of The Donor’s Dilemma

Perhaps the pun really wasn’t intended.

As it turned out, the groups ran most nights, but Saturday worked well for Verity seeing as she donated on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Following her first two donations, Verity felt fine. She took the supplements and followed the donation day calorie and fluid guidelines, but she was still worried about being fed upon so often. It would be a comfort to talk to other donors.

So, she wrote herself a list of questions, some basic, some complex, some safe, some more risqué. The risqué ones were the most important, but maybe if she hid them among questions about fading scars and the long-term effects of full-time donation, people might not notice.

Who was she kidding? “Is it normal to get wet every time your client bites you?” was definitely going to turn some heads. She had to do something though, it had to stop before someone else noticed.

She walked to the Exchange, the list burning a hole in her pocket, wondering what the other donors would be like. No doubt many would be doing it because it was an honour or some nonsense, but there must be plenty who just needed the money like she did.

Two men sat on a bench outside the Exchange, conveniently taking the one between streetlights. They were wearing hoodies and caps and doing a shitty job of looking inconspicuous. Verity could feel their eyes on her as she approached the stairs of the building when one of them spat.

“Slag!”

“Excuse me?” Verity demanded, whirling on the wannabe bad guys.

“You heard me,” one of the men said, going to stand up, but his friend shot an arm out, stopping him.

“Yeah, I heard you. I was wondering if you had the balls to say it to my face. How very tough of you, shouting at lone women in the street.” She cocked a hip and gave them both a slow look up and down. “Your mums must be so proud. I’d say girlfriends but…” Her nose crinkled in disgust.

The loose cannon of the pair did stand up then, stepping towards her, fists clenched at his sides. Verity’s hand tightened around her phone in her pocket, ready to punch him if need be. By the looks of his bulbous nose, she wouldn’t be the first.

“At least my Mrs ain’t a whoring vamp lover!”

“Hey, calm down mate.”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down you fucking whore!”

“Kane, stop it.” His friend butted in, pulling at Kane’s arm. He was a few inches taller than Kane, and a fair bit skinnier. “She’s trying to wind you up.”

“You know, if your Mrs can put up with you, maybe she should apply. What’s two little pricks, when she already deals with a massive one at home.”

Kane bared his teeth, his ruddy face turning a shade redder under the lamp light. Bushy eyebrows and heavy stubble, crow’s feet and thin lips, five foot eleven, stocky build. She’d seen enough.

“Well, Kane. I do have a meeting to get to, so I’ll have to love you and leave you.” She blew him a kiss and climbed the remaining stairs.

“Dirty vamp fucker!” Kane shouted, as tall and skinny shushed him.

A man blocked the doorway as Verity marched for the entrance. Vampire. He stared past Verity at the men on the street, eyes black as night. Similar to the predatory gaze she saw on Theo’s face, only this stare promised something far darker than just a bite.

His eye flicked to Verity before returning to the street. “Are those men giving you trouble, Miss Harper?” he asked, voice smooth as the veil.

Miss Harper? She tried to remember if she’d met this guy before and came up short.

She turned to see the bickering pair scurrying away.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Best not to antagonise them,” he said, stepping aside for Verity to enter.

He walked her to the opulent main hall, the one her induction had been held in. The space looked even grander now that the medical screens had been removed.

An intricate painting depicting the birth of Phoenar, the first vampire, adorned the high vaulted ceiling, lit by crystal chandeliers. The ceiling, along with the dark wood panelling and golden sconces, stood as a reminder that she was in a different world to the one she had grown up in. One of money and privilege and extravagance.

Theo’s world.

About twenty people milled about, and as Verity scanned the room, she found a familiar smiling face.