chapter twenty-four #2
“If we are going to see each other more often, isn’t it a better use of our time to learn to trust each other a little?” He flashed a grin, the clicking sound starting to vibrate in his throat as his eyes locked with mine. “Let me prove it to you. Let me take a bite.”
“What about the venom?” I asked nervously.
“It’s not that kind of venom.” He smirked. “It would be a mistake not to use it.”
“I don’t want you to use it,” I told him firmly.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, pulling me in and swapping our places. His body pinned me to the edge of the workbench, casting a shadow over me as he loomed with my wrist in his grip.
The last time he asked me that, he saved my life. Even so, the question still troubled me. I shrugged, feeling the blush creep up my cheeks. Here he was, asking me permission again. The action alone earned him some trust, just a small amount. I gulped and nodded, signifying that he had my blessing.
His eyes clocked my wrist, studying the veins, similar to how I studied his.
Those wicked needles flicked forward, quivering at the sight of my flesh.
He was surprisingly expressive and simple to read, unlike human men.
If you were ever close enough to see him, he showed you exactly who he was and what he was thinking.
You could likely predict what would happen next.
It was like reading an animal’s body language—tried, true, honest .
He leaned in and embedded both sets of teeth into my wrist swiftly, as if not to let me dwell on the pain.
“Ouch, Silas!” I winced, but he bit down harder, causing my knees to buckle slightly, but his arm circled around my waist to catch me.
I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed slowly, feeling the fluid pull through my wrist. Then, a wave of numbness overtook me.
The same tingling from before pricked along my wrist until I could no longer feel any pain, just pressure at the puncture sites.
Another feeling lingered, not just the absence of pain but the feeling of elation.
It was hard to describe other than referring to drugs, though I was sure it was something that tricked the nerves into thinking this was not a painful endeavor.
His eyes closed again, but the slight crease between his brows insinuated that he was attempting to stay focused. Was he actually keeping track of how much he was taking? I took a shaky breath, trying not to let the adrenaline crash sicken me similarly to the time before.
He let out a groan against my skin. I could feel more pressure on my wrist, and I shivered.
Then he pulled away, his face flustered as he licked my wound.
His tongue slid slowly over the punctures as if to linger a few moments longer before he had to let me go.
However, it looked like he considered going back on his deal just for another taste.
The red tinge on his lips was wiped away by his tongue.
Sighing, he leaned his cheek against my palm, peering down at me.
His skin was warm against my touch, though it was tempered by the numbness in my hand.
“What?” I frowned.
“Am I not allowed to look at you?” He turned his head into my hand. “You know, I thought I tasted something off about you before.”
“How so?” I raised my brow.
“Your taste, it gives it away. You’re Mellifluous.”
“Pardon?”
“A Mellifluous Host.”
“You are saying words, and I still don’t know what they mean.”
“It’s a type of blood, a mutation,” he said. “It means you taste good. Sweeter than usual.” He chuckled.
“Thank you…I think,” I mumbled, pulling my wrist from his hand.
“People pay good money for blood like yours,” he said, moving his supportive hand on my waist higher as he leaned forward.
“Is that right?” I pushed against his chest. “Are you saying I should be making you work harder for it?”
“Don’t be cruel.” He chuckled, kissing my neck and pulling me closer. “Let’s go somewhere, escape this little cave of yours.”
“I have work to do.”
“Do you ever not work?”
“You’re beginning to sound like Phoe?—”
“Never mind.” He pulled away, rolling his eyes.
Looked like I hit a raw spot.
I pulled away quickly to gather my things. My hand struggled to pick up my notebook due to the numbness in my arm, though I could scoop up most of the things to bring them to the far corner desk.
I was not looking, but I knew he paused. His stare bored into the back of my neck. I wondered if he would say something, but when I turned around, he was gone.
“You’re welcome, you plague,” I grumbled.
The blood in the glass was like a thick ink in the dim light.
It moved slowly around the bottle as I tilted it.
I was becoming feverish thinking of all the tests I could run.
Which one did I run first? What would I make of it?
What other properties did the blood hold?
Why was it black ? The excitement was barely containable.
My thoughts could not be translated into writing fast enough.
I made sure to write down the date and approximate time of the draw.
I spent hours designing and daydreaming, and my eyes did not seek rest until dawn broke through the fog of night, working until the morning light crept through the windows of my shop.