Page 42
“This morning, once we’ve all eaten. Pierce has already informed the pilot.”
That’s… really soon.
Anna glances at the wall clock, frowning. “Clive, maybe a simple breakfast today? If we don’t get on the road before seven, we’ll be fighting traffic most of the way to the airport.”
“Pancakes?” he suggests. “We can bring them with us and eat them cold if necessary.”
“I’ll leave you to the arrangements,” Tristan says, striding toward the door while I slip into a daydream about Clive’s pancakes. The sound of a throat being cleared snaps me out of it, and I glance up to see Anna staring at me. She looks pointedly toward the door.
“Fuck.” I chase after Tristan and am right on his heels as he enters his office. My breakfast has to wait until he’s had his.
I close the door behind me. “So, Sydney, huh? You said a few weeks? Is that, like, two or three?”
“As long as it takes.” He crosses to the bench by the window, and I dutifully follow.
“As long as what takes? Is this trip because of the reports that humans are being mind-wiped?” Anna and I haven’t found a reliable source, but there’s a rumour going around that over the past few weeks, a higher than normal number of humans have been fed from and mind-wiped in Sydney—and that some of them were in rough shape.
Tristan doesn’t answer as I sit beside him in my customary spot and hold out my wrist. He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it, his eyes flicking to my neck. I wouldn’t even have noticed, but it’s not the first time he’s done it. He hasn’t said anything, but my gut is telling me he wants to get a bit more intimate during feedings.
I’m not sure how I feel about that. The sensible side of me (and I do have one, no matter what everyone says) thinks it’s a bad idea. This is my job, and living in the same house as my boss is already plenty intimate, thanks. Though to be fair, I rarely see him unless I go looking. The other side of me, the one that’s most dominant, kind of wants to see what it would be like to have a vampire sucking on my neck. Cat sure seems to like it, and from what I’ve read on the Dish, so do a lot of other feeders.
The Dish has been a freaking lifesaver. After I spoke to my parents, I spent a day poking around the various boards, and I found one called “The Things Your Parents Don’t Tell You.” It’s run by a bunch of teens, and if I understand right, it gets passed down through the generations, but the most important thing is, it’s got all the history and gossip and context that I needed. Between that and the general boards, I’ve not only been able to avoid making big mistakes, I also feel like I might actually be part of the feeder community. I was even able to make small talk with some feeders who came to a meeting here with their vampires last week.
Tristan’s fingers wrap around my arm, and he bites into my wrist. I barely feel it these days, which is nice but also complicated. It doesn’t hurt, but the lack of pain just makes me more aware of his fangs sliding into me. It’s… intimate.
I never thought I’d use that word so much, but there’s no other way to describe it. I understand now why people like that Spike guy I met when I registered get obsessed with the idea of feeding a vampire. There’s something addictive about it.
Literally. One of the things I found out on the Dish is that the reason there’s a ten-year time limit on the career of a feeder is because the enzymes in vampire saliva that allow us to feed them so regularly without becoming anaemic are actually doing a lot of heavy lifting. When they’ve had enough time to build up, they not only increase blood production, they also begin to speed healing beyond anything that could be considered normal. One of the official reasons the ten-year limit is in place because if that level of healing continues to increase, it could tempt a vampire to abuse their feeder, even accidentally. I don’t think that’s true—seems to me it’s more likely vampires don’t want humans to have the same healing abilities they have. It’s a form of control.
I’m not planning to stick around as long as ten years, though, so it really doesn’t matter to me.
Tristan’s tongue glides over my skin, and I barely control my shiver. I really need to make an effort to hook up sometime soon. It’s been too long if a vampire is making me horny.
He gets up and goes to his desk, saying over his shoulder, “Have something to eat and then pack. You’ll need clothing that’s appropriate for socialising.”
Say what?
“Be more specific. Are we talking dinner with friends, clubbing, an afternoon at the footy? Socialising can mean anything.”
He lifts his head from where he’s been reading something in his notebook and gives me an incredulous look. “Please do share what it is about me that makes you think I would take part in any of the activities you mentioned.”
“Oh, come on. You have friends!”
His brow rises.
“There’s Pierce. And Nisha.” I might be scraping the bottom of a barrel here.
“Pierce works for me, and Nisha is an acquaintance.”
“Okay, fine. Dinner with acquaintances, then.”
A slow smile creeps across his face, the kind that terrifies me right down to my bones. Tristan is so refined and pent-up that sometimes I forget he’s also a vampire. And not just any vampire, but apparently the one who single-handedly quelled an uprising in Manchester in 1876. According to the Dish, he faced down three other vampires, and there were only pieces of them left by the end.
“My dear boy, if you were invited to a vampire dinner, clothes would very much not be needed.”
What. The. Fuck?
I might need to do some more research.
