Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Since running away from my last foster home at sixteen, I’ve gotten used to living alone. There’s no one to depend on, no one to answer to, no one breathing down my neck… just me, myself, and I.
And yet here I am with a new roommate– one who doesn’t pay rent, sheds on the furniture, and thinks biting my fingers counts as affection.
Still, I can’t complain. It’s kinda nice having another heartbeat in the apartment, and at least the kitten doesn’t judge me for my empty fridge and questionable life choices.
Even now, just sitting on my futon thumbing through an old magazine, the place feels less hollow.
Outside, the city is dark, but in here, the floor lamp throws a weak yellow glow over everything.
It’s barely enough light to read by, but I’ve learned to live with less.
Less heat, less comfort, less everything– because less means cheaper. And cheaper keeps me afloat.
The chill still seeps through the walls, though, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I have to bite the bullet and turn on the heat to get through the worst months of winter.
My breath feathers faintly in the air, but the warm weight pressed against my thigh almost makes up for it.
The kitten is curled up and snoozing contentedly, a tiny furnace in a fur coat. All in all, it's strangely… peaceful.
Until the chime of my phone cuts through the silence, that is. I nearly jump out of my skin, my new roommate diving off the futon and ducking underneath it for safety.
“It’s okay, little guy,” I chuckle, bending forward and wiggling my fingers to coax him back out.
The kitten resists for a full minute before pressing his face into my palm, allowing me to scoop him up and plop him down beside me on the futon again.
He settles in, his warmth seeping back into my leg like nothing even happened.
“Just my phone,” I tell him as if he can understand, reaching for it on the coffee table.
I swipe open the screen, blinking against the harsh light to find a new notification from the Bite app waiting for me.
You have a new engagement request!
My stomach swoops. I wasn’t expecting another request so soon, but considering my current situation, I’m in no position to turn down an opportunity to earn some cash.
Swallowing hard, I tap the app icon to open it.
Congratulations, Marilyn!
You’ve been selected for an engagement.
Still not sold on that name.
I thumb the notification, a profile picture filling my screen. Dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, and full lips that look like they’ve tasted every sin. His smile is half promise, half challenge, and I stare at the photo a little too long before scrolling down to view the details of the request.
Name: Sebastian
Physical Age: 23
Engagement Type: Standard Feed
Location: Lakeview, Private Residence
Time: 11:00 PM
Duration: 15 minutes
Compensation: $300
I hesitate for a beat longer than last time, thumb hovering. But hesitation doesn’t pay bills. Holding my breath, I hit ACCEPT, and the next notification swiftly arrives.
Your pickup time is 10:40 PM.
Dress to impress according to Sebastian’s preferences: casual attire, hair braided.
Weird, but okay.
I spend the next hour showering and pulling an outfit together, agonizing over what constitutes ‘casual attire’.
I finally land on a pair of fitted dark jeans and a white v-neck sweater, styling my hair into a loose braid that looks effortless but took way too much effort.
I keep my makeup minimal– more out of necessity than choice, since I spent far too long picking out what to wear– and make it downstairs with two minutes to spare.
The black car arrives right on time, and I slide inside, the familiar hush wrapping around me as I sink into the leather seat. My palms are slick with sweat, heart hammering like a drum. Outside, the city blurs by, gray buildings and bare trees slipping past like ghosts.
I’m delivered to a skyscraper made of glass and steel, my legs a little wobbly when I step out of the car to head inside. The driver murmurs quick instructions for entry, and the next thing I know I’m riding an elevator up to a penthouse perched high above the city.
The doors part into a slick black foyer, and there he is. Sebastian.
For a second, my lungs forget how to work. This man’s profile photo did not do him justice.
He’s dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans, eyes sharp and dark hair deliciously disheveled. Honestly, his appearance screams frat boy far more than it does vampire, but I suppose that’s by design. No matter their true age, vamps are scary good at blending in.
“Marilyn,” Sebastian purrs, stepping closer. “Thank you for coming.”
My stomach flips as he closes the space between us, his intense dark eyes locked on mine. Like Lucien, he’s even better looking in person, and suddenly the idea of him biting me doesn’t seem nearly as bad as it should.
“I was about to pour a glass of red, would you like one?” he asks, cocking a brow.
I blink back at him. “Wine?”
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Of course, what else?”
He hits me with a sexy-as-fuck smirk, beckoning me with a flick of his head as he pivots toward a small sitting room just off the foyer.
I follow, eyes drinking in every detail of the space as he moves toward a bar cart in the corner. Sebastian may look like a frat boy, but his home is a far cry from a frat house. Everything is sleek and modern, almost too clean.
“Please, make yourself at home,” he says, gesturing to the low-backed leather sofa in the center of the room.
As if I could ever afford to live in a place like this.
I lower myself onto the sofa while he pours two glasses of red wine, returning to offer me one with a dashing smile that feels far too practiced.
I take it, the glass heavy in my hand as he sinks down beside me– close enough that I can smell the faint spice of his cologne mingling with the fresh scent of aftershave.
My nerves coil tighter when he reaches out, fingers grazing my wrist before sliding slowly up my arm.
“Relax,” he murmurs.
Easier said than done.
His touch wanders higher, fingertips ghosting over my neck, the skin flawless and smooth courtesy of the Rapi-Gen cream. My pulse flutters beneath his touch, breath catching.
“Nervous?” he asks, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.
“Uhm, a little,” I admit.
“Completely natural,” he reassures, the gleam in his gaze suggesting he likes that.
His eyes drift down and back up again, slow as a caress.
“I’d offer to help take the edge off, but your donor profile says your interests don’t extend beyond blood donation.
” His eyes ping back up to mine, simmering with wicked promise. “Pity.”
Heat prickles down my spine. I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to say to that– especially since I’m currently caught somewhere between wanting to bolt for the door and climb into his lap. Neither option seems particularly smart.
So, I hide behind the wine instead, lifting the glass to my lips and hoping the alcohol might help assuage my anxiety.
Rookie mistake, since the first sip nearly drags a moan out of me.
Bex and I think we’re fancy when we splurge on boxes of cheap cabernet, but the stuff in this glass? It’s life changing.
No wonder rich people love wine.
“You like?” Sebastian asks when I lower the glass, gaze locked on my mouth.
“It’s delicious,” I breathe, licking the last trace from my lips before I can stop myself.
His grin sharpens, satisfaction flashing across his features. Then he leans forward, setting his own glass on the coffee table.
He doesn’t pick it back up. Instead, he turns fully toward me, one arm draped casually along the back of the couch. His fingers toy idly with the tail of my braid, drawing it between his knuckles like he’s testing the texture.
“You braided your hair,” he muses, voice low.
I swallow, the wine suddenly thick in my throat. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
His thumb drags lightly over the woven strands of my chestnut hair. “Yes, but not all donors are willing to take instruction. Some make it a point not to.”
My brow furrows. “But isn’t that the whole purpose of this… arrangement?”
“For some,” he replies with a shrug that’s far too casual paired with the dangerous amusement glittering in his gaze. “Others just seem to enjoy flirting with danger.”
Every muscle in my body coils instinctively as he leans in.
“Ready?” Sebastian asks, his hungry gaze dropping to the side of my neck.
I take a slow sip of wine, letting it coat my throat, then dip my chin in a nod.
I feel the heat before he even touches me– like anticipation has a temperature.
His hand comes to the nape of my neck, tilting my head just so, and his fangs extend with a soft pop.
His breath fans over my skin as he closes the last whisper of space between us, and I brace myself for the bite I know is coming.
His fangs pierce my flesh with a sharp, exquisite pressure, my body going taut, then molten.
Pain blooms to pleasure in a single heartbeat.
The room blurs, my pulse pounds in my ears like a song with no words.
Every nerve fires simultaneously and my body betrays me with a low, involuntary shiver, eyes fluttering closed as I cling to the sensation.
I’m so gone that I’m barely aware of the low sound that escapes my throat– somewhere between a gasp and a moan.
An insistent ache pulses between my legs as he drinks from me, confusing as hell, yet undeniable. Carnal need surges through my body, the signals in my brain misfiring. My back arches without thought, another soft sound escaping before I can stop it.
Too soon, it’s over.
His fangs retract, tongue trailing lightly over the wound like a teasing caress. When he finally pulls away, I’m left reeling– more turned on than afraid, but mostly embarrassed.
He licks the last trace of blood from the corner of his mouth with obscene precision, lips curving in a satisfied grin. “Well done, Marilyn,” he drawls. “You made a lovely vintage.”
My throat works around a hard swallow. “Thank you,” I whisper.
Why I’m thanking him for biting me, I’m not sure, but my brain isn’t exactly firing on all cylinders right now.
Sebastian slips his phone from his pocket. A moment later, a muffled ping from my own pocket confirms what I already know– engagement complete, money transferred.
Just like that.
He rises smoothly and extends a hand. “I look forward to next time,” he says with a slow smile, and I find myself smiling back as I place my palm in his, allowing him to help me to my feet.
“Maybe you’ll consider changing your preferences on your donor profile?” he suggests.
Heat floods my face. “Maybe,” I giggle, raising my glass to hide my blush and draining the last of the wine. As I hand him the empty glass, I begin to wonder if I’ve officially lost my mind.
Did I just imply I’d give him more than blood? And giggle while doing it? What the actual fuck is happening to me?
Sebastian only grins wider, like he knows exactly how scrambled I am. His arm bands lightly around my waist as he steers me toward the foyer. My legs feel unsteady, and by the time we reach the elevator, my pulse hasn’t calmed one bit.
He presses the button to summon it, the doors gliding open instantly like it hasn’t moved since my arrival.
“Uh, see ya,” I manage as I step away from him and into the elevator.
“Soon, I hope,” he replies, tossing me a wink as the doors slide shut between us.
I sag back against the wall with a relieved exhale, punching the button for the lobby. The metal box hums with its descent, and when it reaches the ground floor, I can’t get outside fast enough.
The cold night air hits my flushed skin like a slap as I push through the door, finding the black car idling at the curb. I sink into the back seat once again, a rush still burning in my veins.
The ride home seems twice as long. Doubt twists inside me like a snake, coiling tighter with every passing block.
What I’m doing is wrong. I shouldn’t be offering myself up for illegal blood donations, and I definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it.
But I’ve got two under my belt now, and neither was unpleasant. Like Bex said, it’s easy money.
Too easy.