Chapter Three
I ’m sweating once I arrive at the address, both because of the walk from the metro station and the anxiety roiling in my gut. I peer down at my phone, then up at the gigantic, wrought-iron gate in front of me. Behind it waits a picturesque Victorian-style house, all pitched roofs and towers and stained-glass windows. There’s no sign, but this is exactly what I’d picture a vampire’s house looking like: sexy and gothic and a little spooky.
I bite my lip and consider turning back one more time. Then I picture the disappointed but unsurprised looks on my parents’ faces when I walk in the door with nothing but a suitcase in hand, and Maisy’s expression falling when I tell her she’s on her own in LA. I gather my courage and jab at the intercom button near the gate to announce my presence.
A woman waits out on the wraparound porch. She’s dressed smartly in a pencil skirt and silk blouse, and she’s not a vampire, judging from the tan skin and warm pink of her cheeks. I guess she could be in spray tan and makeup, but from what I’ve seen, white vampires love to play up their natural pallor.
“Amelia?” she asks, and I nod. I’m tongue-tied with nerves. She stands for a moment with her hand propped on her hip, eyeing me and my sad suitcase. “I’m Lissa. Welcome to the Valentine Society. Benjamin will meet you in the parlor.”
Will you walk into my parlor, said a spider to a fly, my brain supplies, sending a trickle of unease down my spine.
I swallow. This is normally where I’d make some kind of dumb joke to alleviate tension, but I’m too anxious right now. Instead, I meekly follow Lissa through the door. She shuts it behind me, and I stare around at the foyer. It looks more modern than I would’ve imagined, sparsely decorated but still speaking of expense, with real hardwood floors and beautiful paintings adorning the walls. I stop for a moment to stare up at one—an image of a dark figure looming over a beautiful young woman’s bed—before Lissa clears her throat and gestures for me to follow her.
The parlor holds a large, round table with a delicate floral tea set. The table is accompanied by a lovely velvet chaise and matching chairs. The window has heavy curtains drawn across it, so the room is lit only by an array of old-fashioned sconces and a chandelier.
“Oh my God,” I blurt out as I drag my suitcase into the room. “This is… unreal. Like something straight out of a book.”
“Yeah, I suspect that’s what he’s aiming for,” Lissa says, looking unimpressed. Then her brusque attitude shifts as she shoots me the smallest smile. “But don’t tell him I told you.”
“Don’t tell me what?”
My laugh shrivels in my throat at the sound of an unfamiliar, British-accented voice behind me. I whirl around, one hand pressed to my chest, to find a man standing in the doorway that leads further into the house. He wasn’t here when I walked into the room, and I didn’t hear him arrive.
Vampire . I know it instantly, intuitively. I’ve never been this close to one before, but it’s like my body knows it’s in the presence of a predator. My pulse rises and my hair stands on end. The man doesn’t look like the cliché of a vampire, with his golden-brown skin, black beard, and round-rimmed glasses, but there is an unnatural stillness to him that makes me shiver.
“Lord Benjamin Acharya,” he introduces himself, extending a hand without moving forward. Leaving my suitcase behind, I hesitantly cross the room. With someone else, it could be a power play to make me walk to him, but judging from his gentle grip and the way he looks at me, I suspect it’s more that he’s trying not to alarm me. Yet the shock of his cold fingers makes me have to stifle a gasp.
“Amelia Burton,” I say, barely managing more than a whisper. Somewhere deep in my brain, I know I’m making a fool of myself, shaking like a leaf over a perfectly polite man who happens to be undead, but I can’t seem to regain control of my body.
Benjamin gestures to the table in the center of the room. Every movement is polite and slow, and yet my muscles tense every time. “Please, take a seat.” He glances at Lissa. “I’d appreciate it if you could stay for a few minutes.”
Lissa sighs and smooths her skirt as she sits on the chaise. I take a seat beside her, my movements awkward and stiff, like I’m a marionette rather than a person. God, what is wrong with me?
“Your nerves are perfectly normal,” Benjamin says, as if he can read my mind. I guess he can hear the nervous pitter-patter of my heart. He sinks into a seat opposite me with smooth grace, pours a cup of steaming tea into a porcelain mug, and slides it across the table to me. “Have some chamomile tea. Give yourself a few minutes to adjust. First time meeting a vampire, I presume?”
I nod, wrapping one hand around the cup but not able to bring myself to drink yet. Lissa’s arm brushes mine. Despite her brusqueness, her presence steadies me, especially since she seems at ease around Benjamin.
“Right,” Benjamin says. He pours himself a cup of tea, as well. Then he takes out a vial from his pocket, uncorks it, and pours the red liquid into the tea. Blood , I realize with a lurch.
He’s all nonchalance, like he’s adding sugar or cream instead of human blood. But I guess this is perfectly routine for him. He raises the cup, takes a sip, and looks at me over the rim.
“You’re doing well,” he says as he sets the cup down, even though I’ve broken into a cold sweat. “Vampires are a natural predator. Your bodies have evolved to fear us. Some have stronger reactions than others; they will panic and flee from our presence. Others are too squeamish and will be ill at the sight of blood, let alone one of us drinking it.”
“So you’re saying I have weak survival instincts?” I croak.
He smiles. “Maybe so, but it’s a boon, given your interest in this line of work.”
I relax. So I’ve passed the first test. Maybe this idea wasn’t as crazy as it first seemed. Once I no longer feel like my heart is in my throat, I manage a small sip of tea. It’s nice and hot, with a mellow sweetness. My pulse gradually slows.
“Very good,” Benjamin says. He nods at Lissa, and she stands. Part of me wants to ask her to stay, but I know I am being tested, and so I bite my tongue. She pauses beside Benjamin, her fingers grazing his arm—and from the way his eyes linger on her as she leaves, I have a sudden inkling that there’s something a little more than an employer-employee relationship there.
I am so tempted to pry, but once I’m alone with a vampire in the room, my nerves surge and render me tongue-tied again.
“Now, Ms. Burton,” Benjamin says, returning his attention to me. “I’d like to thank you for contacting us. The Valentine Society is a new endeavor of mine; this year’s Valentine’s Day Ball will be our debut into vampire society. I set out with the intent to make this line of work safer for valentines, and that means I am particular about who I will sponsor. With only one week until the ball, I must inform you that I’m looking for something very special if I’m to bring you there with so little training.”
“So, no pressure,” I squeak.
He smiles. “I’d like to ask you a few questions. What attracted you to this line of work?”
“Well, I, uh—” I start, and then stammer, suddenly unsure about what the protocol is. “Am I supposed to call you ‘my lord,’ or something?” I know that vampires consider themselves nobility, since each of them has a trace of blood from the original vampire: Count Dracula, descended from King Attila of the Huns.
“Benjamin is fine,” he says. “Some vampires are sticklers for that sort of thing, but I find it all a bit embarrassing, if I’m being honest.”
“Okay. Benjamin.” I brush my hair out of my face, stalling as I try to think of a good answer. Should I be formal, or honest? Can vampires really tell from your heartbeat if you’re lying? Do half-truths count as lying?
“There’s no one good answer,” Benjamin says. “There are many reasons that people come to this line of work, and regardless of what yours is, I will not judge you. I am simply trying to get to know you better.”
“Right. Sorry.” I laugh, a little breathless. “I’ve always been fascinated by vampires. As a little girl, I loved the gossip rags, the romance novels, all of it. I still watch A Day in the Life of a Valentine every Friday.” Heat rises to my face. Maybe too honest? I try to redirect my nervous blathering. “But there was always a reason not to try it. Always some safer option to take.”
“So why are you here now?”
“Because the safer option turned out to be not so safe after all,” I say. “And I’m so tired of just scraping by. I want something better. So I just feel like… fuck it! I want to do something just because I want to, not because I should .”
He nods, his expression thoughtful. “So the lifestyle appeals to you?”
“Yes,” I say emphatically. “It just seems so romantic. The luxury, the social scene… even the danger. It makes me want it more.” I look away, cheeks warming. “I probably sound unhinged.”
“Not at all,” Benjamin says. “Trust me when I say that all vampires are grateful that humans like you exist.”
“People with little to no survival instinct?” I joke.
“People who enthusiastically consent to meet our needs,” he shoots back with a sliver of a smile. I blush more deeply but don’t argue.
“So…” I cock my head. “Is this the part where you bite me?”
He chokes on his tea, sputters, wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Well… yes, I suppose so. You certainly seem… calmer. Let’s see what we’re working with.”
I grin despite my nerves. My heart is leaping again, with some anxiety, yes, but mostly with excitement. I slide over to make room on the chaise. No matter what he says, I still feel like a freak for being excited at the thought of being bitten… and more than a little turned on. I hope that his heightened senses don’t work quite like they do in spicy novels.
It’s not like I’m going to jump Benjamin’s bones, especially not when I suspect there’s something going on between him and Lissa. But still… I’ve imagined this moment for most of my life. Now it’s time to figure out if reality can live up to the fantasy.
Benjamin settles beside me, leaving a few inches of space between us. He takes a small metal kit out of his pocket and sets it on the table: I spy a sanitizing wipe, bandages, and a vial of smelling salts, along with a second vial containing a thick dark liquid.
I brush my hair off my neck, tilting my head to the side, but Benjamin stops me with a raised hand.
“ Never offer your neck to a stranger,” he chastises. “It’s dangerous. Far too easy for someone to overindulge. And it is also intimate, best saved for someone you trust.”
“Right,” I say, face heating. “Then, where…?”
“The wrist is standard.” He reaches out, gently takes my hand in his, and flips it over to expose my pale blue veins. “May I put my other arm around you?”
I nod. He holds my wrist with one hand and slides his other arm around my waist.
“Sometimes, people faint,” he says. I stare up at him, meeting his dark eyes. He’s so businesslike about this, but my mouth has gone dry, my heart thumping rapidly. I knew what I was getting into, but now that the moment is here, I’m more nervous than I thought I would be. And more excited, too.
“May I bite you now?” he asks, lifting my wrist to his mouth.
My heart skips a beat.
I’m so enamored by the sight of two canines sliding out from behind his slightly parted lips that I almost forget to answer. His fangs gleam in the light, white and sharp and all too enticing. “Yes,” I breathe.
“Try not to tense,” he murmurs. His voice is thicker and has the slightest hint of a lisp with his fangs out. “It will make it hurt more. Take deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”
I suck in air and let it out, trying to heed his advice. “Easier said than done,” I mutter. “Like when they tell you to relax when they’re about to stick you with a big-ass needle and— ah .”
An involuntary noise escapes me as he sinks his teeth into my skin. There’s a bright burst of pain in my wrist and then— And then—
Pleasure. It floods my veins like a drug. Heat rises to my face, and my head goes fuzzy. Tension oozes out of me until my entire body feels loose and relaxed, like being tipsy but better.
“Oh, damn,” I mutter. Everything’s going hazy around the edges. Holy shit, am I actually swooning? I didn’t think that happened in real life. Benjamin’s hand tightens on my waist, his arm holding me steady even as my body goes liquid and boneless in his arms. I can feel his tongue pressing against my skin, the pull as he drinks from me, my pulse. An ache between my thighs throbs in rhythm with it, and I bite back a moan.
Then the pressure of his fangs disappears. The heady rush fades a couple of seconds later. I stiffen, cheeks burning. I was always turned on by the thought of being bitten, but my god, I still didn’t expect it would feel that good. I’m breathing hard, and it takes a few moments for me to sit up again.
But my pleasant haziness fades as I glance over and notice the look on Benjamin’s face—brow furrowed, lips slightly puckered, like he just sucked on a lemon. Except he just sucked on me .
“That bad?” I ask, chuckling nervously.
He smooths his face into indifference. Still, the silence ticks on for an uncomfortable couple of seconds. He takes the dark vial from the kit, puts a drop on a small cloth, and dabs at the puncture marks on my wrist.
“This is vampire blood,” he murmurs. “It has healing properties. Ingesting it can have its dangers, but applying like this is safe.”
But I barely notice the sting or the fascinating sight of my puncture wounds closing within a couple of seconds. I’m too busy trying—and failing—to read Benjamin’s expression. “ What ?” I burst out. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no.” He swipes his tongue over his teeth, which are smooth again, his fangs retracted into his gums. “It’s just that your taste is very… distinct.”
I let out an uncomfortable giggle. “Gee, you really know how to butter a lady up.”
“It’s… hm,” he says. “Certainly unique.” He pulls a black handkerchief from his pocket and dabs at his lips. “I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.”
“In a good way?” I ask, my voice creeping higher along with my nerves.
“There is no good or bad when it comes to taste. It is all a matter of preference.”
“That’s a bullshit line if I’ve ever heard one,” I say. Doubly so when I notice he leans over to take another sip of his tea and swirls it around his mouth, as if to wash the taste of me from his tongue. Panic flares in my chest and erupts in more nervous words. “Is there something wrong with me? Am I… diseased?”
“No.” When he says it this time, it feels far more honest. “I didn’t taste anything medically wrong with you.”
“So I’ve just got bad blood? Am I all rotten inside?”
He sets his tea aside, folds his hands in his lap, and scrutinizes me. I squirm and bite back another retort as he considers for a few long seconds.
“Your taste is… different,” he says. “I cannot deny that it may be a challenge to find a match for you. I can think of one or two patrons to whose palates you may appeal, as a novelty, but…” He shrugs. “I will not lie. I am not sure if the life of a professional valentine is in your future.”
My heart sinks. Despite my nerves, I wasn’t ready for him to say no . I thought there would be more steps to the interview, at the very least. I thought I was doing well, passing his tests. I liked being bitten. How is it possible that I could taste so bad that it wouldn’t even matter?
This was my last, desperate attempt at salvaging my life. That thin thread of hope has just been snipped. So what am I supposed to do now?
Yet, just as I feel a surge of heat behind my eyes that promises an embarrassing rush of tears on its way, Benjamin continues. “However, I think your blood is distinct enough that many would like to sample it. So, if it is acceptable for you… I would be interested in sponsoring you for attendance at this year’s Valentine’s Day Ball.”
I suck in a breath, heart soaring, but he holds up a finger. “As I said, I can’t promise a long-term position. This would be a contract for one night only.”
My teeth worry at my lower lip. One night? It’s far from the luxurious life as a pampered valentine; this feels more like being a cheap hooker. Speaking of cheap… “How much would that pay?”
He purses his lips, face creased with thought. “One week of crash-course training, and working a Valentine’s Day Ball… hm.” He taps a finger to his chin and then looks me in the eyes and says, “I’m prepared to offer five thousand dollars.”
I blink at him. Blink again. “Say what?”
“I’m not interested in negotiating. You’re a unique case, and that’s what I’m willing to pay, so—”
“Yes,” I say, before my common sense can make me second-guess myself. “I’ll do it.”
Five thousand dollars for one night… I’d be willing to do just about anything for that price, let alone something I’ve just learned that I very much enjoy . But even as I break into a grin, there’s a voice in the back of my head whispering that I should’ve anticipated this. Of course they only want you for one night , it says. Declan didn’t want you, and the vampires don’t either. You’re a short-term thing. A fling , and nothing more.
But… five thousand dollars is better than nothing. It’s more than enough for a rent payment for me and my sister while I figure something else out. I’ll tell work I’m sick for the week or something.
When Benjamin offers his hand, I take it.