Chapter 24 #2
There’s a certain ease in James and Elliott’s exchange; a familiarity in their patterns.
They’ve clearly known each other for a long time, and it’s strange to see James so…
relaxed. It feels like I’m finally getting a glimpse at who he really is beneath the secrets and schooled expressions, and I hate how it makes me even more attracted to him.
Eventually, the focus shifts. Dr. Faulkner tilts his head toward me, brows knitting with curiosity. “James tells me your blood tastes rare, like nothing he’s ever experienced. If you’re willing, I’d like to draw a sample for a study. Nothing invasive, just a few vials.”
The request lands like a cold hand gripping the back of my neck.
I glance at James, expecting a refusal, but he just…
smiles. Calmly, almost as if he’s amused.
For a man who’s loudly staked his claim on my blood from the moment we met, the fact he’s letting this happen cuts far deeper than a bite ever could.
“That’s up to Taylor,” James says when I hesitate, offering a subtle nod.
I just stare back at him, so much hanging unsaid between us. Is this a test? A gesture of trust? An indication that he’s grown bored of me?
Whatever it is, I’m not sure I even want to know.
The table goes silent, three pairs of eyes resting on me. I feel the urge to crack a joke or make light of it, but the room is suddenly so thick with expectation that I can barely breathe.
“Sure,” I manage, voice wavering. “If it’ll help science.”
Dr. Faulkner dips his chin in a nod. “It always does. The more we can learn about the world around us, the better we can make it.”
I smile back at him, though I know it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
The staff returns to clear plates and refill glasses. Conversation resumes, but I can’t focus. The edges of the room start to blur; voices fade. My own thoughts surge, drowning out everything else.
At some point, the main course arrives– a delicate, seared filet of beef. Anna and I cut into ours in synchronized silence, but I only pretend to chew. The food tastes bitter, as if my self-destructive thoughts have poisoned my tongue against decadence.
I’ve been staring at my plate for entirely too long when Anna nudges my knee under the table.
“You okay?” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I lie, snapping my head up. “Just… distracted.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile, eyes darting toward our vampire benefactors, then back to me. “It’s weird, right?” she asks in a low voice. “The way they talk about us?”
“Like we’re not even here,” I murmur, flickering a glance at the men. They’re absorbed in some discussion about genome sequencing in blood samples, the subject matter way over my head. “How long have you been a donor?” I ask quietly.
She shrugs a slender shoulder. “Three years, give or take. I’ve only been with Dr. Faulkner for a month, though.”
My brows shoot up, interest piqued. “Wow, that’s a long time. Does it ever get easier?”
“You get used to it,” she mutters. “And sometimes, if you’re lucky, they actually care.”
Both of us glance toward the men again, James now gesturing to Elliott with his wine glass while beaming the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen on his face.
“Does he care?” I ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Anna’s expression softens as her eyes meet mine again. “He’s a vampire. Caring is different for them.” She hesitates, then adds, “But he hasn’t killed you. That’s more than some donors can say.”
I force a laugh, but it sticks in my throat.
Dessert is served, which consists of a trio of small pastries. Anna devours all three of hers in quick succession, then pushes the plate aside and stands, excusing herself to the restroom.
Elliott and James watch her go, then turn their attention on me, the intensity of it like sunlight through a magnifying glass. The quiet stretches for a beat too long before James finally speaks.
“Would now be a good time to draw the sample?” he asks, voice calm and measured.
My stomach knots. I glance at the doctor, who tips his head with a faint, clinical smile. Without a word, he rises and steps toward the sideboard. A sleek black briefcase waits, almost as if he’d been anticipating this moment all along.
A shiver runs down my spine at the realization that he came prepared. This wasn’t as spur-of-the-moment as they made it seem– he planned it.
James doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He just watches me, expression blank and unreadable. My gut twists, palms going clammy.
Elliott returns with the briefcase in hand, setting it down on the table beside me.
He pulls out the neighboring chair and sits, flipping open the case to reveal neatly arranged vials and sterile instruments that gleam under the chandelier’s light.
His hands move with precise efficiency, plucking out tools and getting set up to draw my sample.
I swallow hard, gripping the edge of my chair as I watch him work. “You really think there’s something special about my blood?” I ask, more out of nerves than anything.
“I intend to find out,” Elliott murmurs absently. “Since James won’t allow me to taste you for myself, exploring the science behind it seems like the next best thing.”
My gaze darts over to James. He leans back slightly, glass in hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He doesn’t intervene, doesn’t offer comfort. He just watches, quiet and deliberate, as if my reactions are as much of a part of the experiment as the blood itself.
Though if he refused to grant the doctor a taste… maybe he’s not done with me after all.
“Ready?” Elliott asks.
I nod, my pulse racing as he slides a thin band around my bicep, the chill of the tourniquet making my nerves flare. Then, almost ritualistically, he swabs my inner elbow and inserts the needle. The burn is sharp, but fleeting. My chest tightens as I glance back over at James, our eyes locking.
Elliott works methodically, filling several vials and snapping each cap into place with a soft click. He deposits them in the briefcase, then removes the needle from my vein and dabs some Rapi-Gen cream over the puncture mark.
Just as he’s snapping the case shut, Anna returns. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in the scene– her boss beside me, briefcase closed, vials safely tucked inside. She doesn’t say anything, just hovers at the doorway, bearing silent witness to what just happened.
James’ gaze flicks toward her briefly, then returns to me, lingering in a way that makes my skin hum. “Why don’t you show Anna the library?” he suggests, swirling the wine in his glass. “We’ll join you shortly.”
I blink back at him, caught off guard. His gaze flicks to Elliott, then back to me, calm and commanding.
Anna brightens, sensing a reprieve. “The library?” she asks eagerly. “I’d love that.”
Nodding stiffly, I push my chair back and slowly rise. My limbs feel heavy, tingling from the lingering aftershocks of blood loss. I meet Anna at the door, and together we start down the long, echoing hall toward the west wing.
“He likes you, you know,” Anna remarks as we pass a row of oil paintings, her tone conspiratorial.
“Who, James?” I ask, furrowing my brow.
She barks a laugh. “No, Elliott. He barely speaks to most humans, so he clearly finds you fascinating.”
“I promise I’m not,” I scoff, cheeks heating. “I’m as ordinary as they come.”
“No ordinary girl could captivate the infamous James Devereaux like you have,” she says, side-eyeing me. “His obsession with you is all the vamps are talking about lately.”
“Yeah, well…” I trail off as we reach the library, Anna’s eyes lighting up the moment we enter. She immediately darts toward the nearest shelf, running her hand along the spines of the aged books and letting out a soft gasp.
“These are all first editions,” she whispers, awed.
Her enthusiasm is so infectious I can’t even be mad about the change in subject. I drift closer, watching the way she marvels at the dusty old hardbacks.
“Yeah… James likes books,” I murmur, instantly regretting how dumb it sounds.
Anna whirls to face me, eyes locking on mine. “Look, you seem nice,” she says, leaning in and dropping her voice low. “I don’t want to scare you, but please be careful.”
My pulse skips. “Careful of what?”
“Of them. The vamps. Even the ones who claim they’re different.
” She hesitates, glancing toward the door before leaning in even closer.
“Elliott’s been working on some new research lately, top secret stuff.
Something about ancient blood ties, a throwback gene or something.
He won’t tell me the details, but… it seems dangerous. ”
I absorb her warning in silence, thoughts spinning a mile a minute.
Anna traces a fingertip along her donor bracelet. “You should get out while you still can, Taylor. Vamps only care about one thing, and that’s blood. If yours is valuable–”
Her words abruptly cut off at the sound of voices in the hall, my stomach knotting as her warning ricochets through my skull. Anna straightens, face smoothing into polite neutrality, while I’m so shaken that I barely manage to school my expression before the men enter.
“Well, what do you think?” James asks as he strolls into the room, his suit jacket gone and the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled to the elbows. “Eli mentioned that you like books.”
“I do,” Anna replies politely, bowing her head. “You have a lovely library.”
I have no idea how she’s putting on such an air of civility while I’m over here feeling like I could scream or cry or throw up.
Elliott follows James into the room, shooting me a glance that almost seems apologetic before stepping over to join Anna at the bookshelf. James redirects his attention my way, and I try my hardest to act normal as he advances in my direction.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he drawls, sliding an arm around my waist and drawing me in close.
I want to say no. I want to demand to know what he’s hiding, why he’s suddenly changed and let another vampire into our home; into my veins. Instead, I just say, “Of course.”
He nods, as if that’s all he hoped for.
I stand there, waiting for him to say something more, to say anything at all… but he doesn’t. He offers Elliott another drink, then crosses the room to pour it.
As I watch him lift a crystal decanter, his forearms flex beneath the rolled sleeves of his white shirt, my eyes catching on a tiny stain at his elbow. Red wine, maybe… though it looks suspiciously like blood.
A low hum of warning threads through me, fight or flight instincts kicking in. Though even as they do, I get the distinct, sinking feeling that whatever’s happening, I’m already in too deep… and there’s no way this ends well.