Chapter 2
“ H ey, Ma, I’m heading out now.”
Tessa’s mother twisted around to look at her from her spot on the couch. The living room lights were all off, her tired face lit only by the glow of the TV. Her mother was only in her mid-fifties, but over the past year since Dad had passed away, she’d aged immeasurably. Her hair had gone from mostly black to mostly gray. The lines on her face had become deeply set, dragging her mouth into a permanent frown, making her once-bright eyes look hollow and shadowed.
It was the first night in more than two weeks that one or more of the aunties wasn’t over, chatting with Ma in the kitchen over coffee. Tessa appreciated the quiet—her family got to be overwhelming. But without them, Ma seemed more withdrawn than usual.
“This early?” Ma asked, glancing at the time on her phone. “Don’t you start at ten?”
“I’ve been picking up extra hours,” Tessa lied.
Ma’s frown deepened. “You already switched to third shift, now you’re taking overtime? Why? You’re going to work yourself into the ground, make yourself sick, just like your father—”
“I’m not working myself into the ground. I promise. I like working nights, it’s quieter and it pays more than days. And lots of people work overtime. It’s not a big deal. It’s not even every day. Just Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”
“Well, for how long?”
Tessa shrugged. “As long as I need to.”
“I don’t like this,” Ma said flatly.
Tessa’s throat and chest tightened. Hot, prickling discomfort chased over her skin. “Well it’s not for you to like or not like, is it?” she snapped.
Ma stiffened, brows drawing together, frown deepening.
Tessa sighed, rubbing at her forehead like she could scrub away the anger and the stress and the exhaustion. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Ma. I didn’t mean it like that. But this situation is tough, so we just have to deal with it. I’m heading out now. Thanks for the lunch, I’m looking forward to it.” She held up the leftovers Ma had packed like a peace offering.
Ma’s frown softened by a fraction. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“‘Night. Don’t forget to lock up after me.”
A few minutes later, Tessa was sitting on the train, riding north to where Amos lived in Old Town. By the time she reached her stop, she’d forgotten her stress and was mostly overcome with nerves. She walked beneath the girders of the L, the ground rumbling beneath her feet as a train passed overhead, and made her way through Old Town’s pretty streets.
When she reached Amos’s house, she stood outside the beautiful greystone, frozen with indecision. She was shivering, but this time it wasn’t from fear. Or, not entirely from fear. It hadn’t been that long since she’d learned vampires even existed, and now here she was, a professional blood “donor” about to go in for round two. Another round of being drained of blood while she orgasmed continuously in a stranger’s crushing hold.
Jesus Christ, what was she doing? She pinched the bridge of her nose while a heated flush spread through her whole body. Earning more money in fifteen minutes than you make in a day, that’s what you’re doing. Before her mind had quite made the decision, her feet brought her up the steps to Amos’s front door. She rang the bell and waited.
Amos Hansen. It didn’t sound like a vampire’s name. It sounded like somebody’s grandpa. Vampires were supposed to have names like Dante or Lucien or Aloysius. They were supposed to wear all black and have a sinister air of brooding mystery. On Monday, Amos had been wearing a crisp white oxford shirt and neatly pressed wool slacks. He was pale, yes, and had alarmingly red irises, but that was about the extent of his vampiric aesthetic.
Instead of tall, dark, and handsome, he was middling height with closely cropped dirty-blond hair and the sort of face that was best described as “honest.” Broad cheekbones, heavy brow, blocky jaw. Deep crow’s feet fanned out from the corners of his eyes. What had probably been dimples when he was young were now matching grooves in each cheek. He wasn’t model material, maybe, but there was still something pleasantly masculine about his features. He looked like a sturdy, corn-fed farm boy from a bygone era.
Well, maybe that’s exactly what he was.
The door suddenly opened, and there he was, the undead farm boy, in the flesh. Tessa stared at him. She knew she looked like a startled rabbit, but she couldn’t seem to make her face do anything normal.
“Uh… hi,” she managed to rasp.
Amos’s blood-red gaze swept over her, his expression totally neutral. He was slightly dressed down compared to last time, wearing jeans instead of wool slacks, but still in a crisp button-down shirt, this one a deep forest green. “Hello, Tessa. Come in.” She’d noticed there was just the slightest accent to his speech. She couldn’t place it, but she suspected it was a remnant of the way Chicagoans had spoken back when he’d been mortal.
She slipped her shoes off and followed him wordlessly to the sitting room. His home was like a museum. Not only because all the furnishings appeared to be from a previous century, but also because everything was so meticulously arranged and immaculately clean. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. All the wood surfaces gleamed like glass. All the art was hung perfectly level, the center of each piece aligned at the same height throughout the room. There was a vase of fresh flowers on the coffee table again, this time a riot of bright yellow daisies and lilies and mums.
“Oh, new flowers,” she said inanely, standing awkwardly beside the fancy little couch where she’d had the most powerful orgasm of her life two days ago.
Amos’s gaze went to the flowers, and suddenly the stoic mask fell away and he smiled at her. “Do you like them?” he asked earnestly.
Had he gotten them for her? Embarrassed pleasure tightened her chest, and she huffed out a breathy little laugh, like an awkward teenager getting a homecoming corsage. “They’re gorgeous,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat .
His smile grew, looking inordinately pleased.
“Uh, so…” She set her bag on the floor and sank down onto the velvet tufted settee. “Same routine as last time?”
Amos’s expression sobered. “If you were comfortable with that?”
She nodded.
He moved closer, standing over her again, about to bend down, when he suddenly paused. Tessa’s heart pounded as she stared up at him, toes already curling, fingers digging into the upholstery.
“I should warn you, your reaction last week… it’s probably going to happen again. It will probably happen every time.”
Her face burned. “I figured. It’s fine.”
“Well, I hope it’s more than fine,” he muttered, moving towards her again.
Her face flushed hotter, but she held herself still as he braced one knee on the cushions beside her thigh, gripped the backrest just above her shoulder. His other hand rose alongside her face, gently brushing her hair back. She suppressed a shiver as his fingertips grazed her jawline.
And then his head was dipping down towards her, so much like the choreography of a kiss that she instinctively tilted her face up to his. Realizing what she was doing, she caught herself and quickly turned her face away, baring her neck. Amos’s breath puffed against her skin as he paused, hovering close, but not yet touching. He inhaled deeply—was he smelling her?—and then his lips touched her skin.
Goosebumps ran from her neck down her arms. Her head would have lolled back, but Amos was cradling the back of her skull ever-so-gently as he simply breathed her in.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, eyes sliding shut .
“Shh…” That gentle admonishment skirted over her skin on a cool breath, followed by the stroke of his tongue. Tessa drew in a staggered breath.
And then his fangs were sinking into her. The piercing was a sharp pinch, but then it was gone, replaced by the stroke of his tongue and the deep, persistent suction of his mouth. A tingling pleasure spread from the site of his bite, filling her body, growing more and more intense with each beat of her heart, with each deep pull from Amos. In seconds, the pleasure condensed and exploded, launching Tessa into an earth-shattering orgasm. Her whole body arched up against his, her arms going round his neck. She lost all sense of propriety, of dignity, of self-control as she rolled her hips against his over and over, grinding her throbbing core against the hard length of his erection, driving her pleasure higher and hotter.
Amos growled against her throat, pulling long, steady draughts from her that seemed to spike her pleasure higher with each one. Tessa’s mind blanked, void of all thought. She was just physical sensation—the pull of Amos’s mouth, the occasional pinch of his fangs reopening her skin, and the vibrant, almost unbearable pleasure that ran through her body like a tidal wave.
Slowly, the pleasure eased, releasing her body into sated limpness. She became aware, in subtle degrees, that she was no longer sitting upright. That she was sprawled on her back across the fancy little couch and that Amos’s broad bulk was draped over her. That his erection was jutting against her hip as he lapped gently at her healing throat. That her thighs were wrapped around his hips, heels digging into his ass.
“Amos?” she whispered hoarsely.
“Hm?” He drew back, gazing down at her with a wild expression. His pupils were blown so wide, she couldn’t see any of his red iris, just inky black moons. His cheeks were flushed with hectic color, his pallor less deathly than it had been before. His hair, which had been neatly combed when she’d arrived, was mussed and sticking up in several different directions. Tessa could only assume that she had done that to him while she was lost in the throes of orgasm.
It’d been so long since she’d felt the intimate pleasure of a man’s weight bearing down on her. She had to force herself to relax her body, letting her thighs unclamp from his hips, loosing her arms from around his neck. Her instinct was to cling to him like an octopus, to rock her hips against his and see how much more fun they could have together.
“Are you alright?” Amos asked, expression growing serious.
Tessa cleared her throat, giving herself a mental slap. “Yeah. Just…” She puffed out a gusting breath.
He pushed himself up off of her, then extended a hand, helping her to sit up.
“Whoa.” She slumped against the backrest. “Dizzy.”
“Just light-headedness from blood loss. Stay here.” Amos got up and left the sitting room.
Tessa listened to his footsteps padding away to a different part of the house. A minute later, he returned with an armful of packages and bottles. He spread them on the coffee table as he sat beside her again. Snacks. Fancy snacks. And expensive drinks.
“You should always eat after I feed from you. My venom accelerates your healing, but you still need to elevate your glucose levels. The dizziness should pass quickly.”
Tessa smiled faintly. Years ago, when she’d worked for a blood center, she’d been the one pressing cookies and juice on lightheaded donors.
Amos fussed with the snack packages, straightening them so that they were all at right angles. “I apologize for last time—I didn’t take care of you properly, afterwards. It’s not an excuse, but I’ve never had a willing blood donor, and it’s been over a century since I’ve had live blood, so I was a bit overwhelmed by the experience. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Tessa froze, her hand clenching on some sort of artisanal energy bar. “You’ve never had a willing blood donor, but you have had live blood before?”
Amos went inhumanly still. “Yes.”
“You attacked people?”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill them?”
He hesitated. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so? ”
He let out a small, recriminating laugh. “I didn’t exactly see them safely home and tucked into their beds, Tessa. I was a hunter and they were prey. I didn’t intentionally kill because I don’t take pleasure in inflicting harm. But I hunted to survive, and I didn’t see my victims as anything other than meals.” His eyes were still black moons, his pale face taut with suppressed wildness.
She let out an unsteady breath. “Wow. Way to soften it.”
Amos’s gaze intensified. “Would you rather I lied to you?”
She shook her head, turning to face him. The motion made her head reel, and she clutched the arm of the couch unsteadily. Amos reached for her, bracing her up .
“Here.” He took the energy bar from her and unwrapped it before pressing it back into her hand. “Eat.”
“I wasn’t this dizzy last time,” she said, pressing her hand against her temple.
“It was probably adrenaline. You’re not as frightened this time.” His lips flattened into a thin line. “Or, you weren’t.”
She took a bite of the energy bar. It was delicious, though she had no idea what was in it. Rich people ingredients, probably. Ancient grains she’d never heard of, nuts that cost more than gold, and a superfruit that could only be found on a single mountaintop in Tibet. She chewed slowly, thinking, wondering why she wasn’t as scared as she probably should be.
“So, you went for over a century without live blood. What made you stop hunting people?”
“As I aged, I mellowed. I was able to resist blood cravings for longer, to think more long-term about how I hunted and what the impacts were. Even with those changes, I would have probably had to continue hunting to survive. In an ideal world, I would have found a bloodmate, but it just… never happened for me. Instead, in the late nineteen-thirties, blood storage was invented, and blood banking became a normal feature of hospitals. I didn’t have to hunt anymore.”
“Oh.” So he hadn’t had much of a choice in the first place, but when he was given a choice, he went with the less harmful one. “What’s a bloodmate?”
“Ah. Well.” He was sitting with his elbows braced on his knees, and his gaze went to his linked hands, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. “A bloodmate is usually a… a loved one, who provides a regular source of live blood to their vampire.”
“By ‘loved one,’ I assume you don’t mean family?”
“No.” His flush deepened. “ I mean a lover.”
Tessa glanced away, feeling a wave of sympathy. Amos had spent more than a century hoping to find a lover he could feed intimately from. And instead, he was stuck with a choice between cold, bagged blood or paying a stranger to give him a hollow semblance of what he really wanted. Her gaze strayed to his crotch. He’d tucked his erection down one pant leg, the outline visible beneath his jeans. After a moment, she realized she was just blatantly ogling and jerked her gaze away. Luckily, Amos was oblivious, still staring at his linked hands.
“Do vampires…” Her mouth went dry. She swallowed, licked her lips. “Do vampires have sex when they feed?”
He slanted a dark glance at her. “Are you asking if I’m a rapist?”
Tessa nearly choked on the energy bar. “What? No!” She hadn’t been thinking about his pre-blood-bank, hunting days. She’d been thinking about, well, herself. And how interesting it might be to have sex while he was feeding on her. “But, uh… now that you bring it up…”
He laughed, a sound as dark as the shadows in his eyes. “No, I’ve never done anything more than feed on my prey. I have no doubt that there are monsters who do such things to their victims. But for most of us, that intimacy is only fulfilling with a bloodmate.” He sighed. “But, finding a long-term bloodmate is difficult and dangerous. Not all vampires can manage to do so.”
Tessa finished the energy bar and when she didn’t reach for anything else, Amos opened a bottle of pomegranate juice and pushed it on her.
“What’s so dangerous about finding a bloodmate?” It seemed like the danger would be all on the human side.
“Exposure, primarily. For a very long time, revealing yourself to someone could’ve meant villagers with torches and pitchforks coming after you. Now the danger is government scientists and private laboratories.”
She frowned. “But you revealed yourself to me, and I’m a stranger.”
“Yes, but the agency has measures in place for selecting safe donors. And once you’re accepted, they take other measures to ensure your silence.”
That was true. It had taken a referral from an existing donor, a very thorough background check, several rounds of interviews, and a psych evaluation before she had been approved as a donor. After that, she’d signed an extremely thick NDA, and had had the less official consequences of running her mouth laid out for her—which mostly relied on a scheme of ruining her life through total and utter financial destruction in addition to having her involuntarily hospitalized in a psychiatric ward.
But she’d needed the money. So she’d signed the NDA and promised not to do anything that would force their hand against her. The sign-on bonus alone had been enough to get Ma out of arrears on the mortgage, and when the first week’s payment came through, she’d be able to get one of the credit cards caught up. She’d moved out of her own apartment and back in with Ma so that the money she would’ve spent on rent and utilities could be put towards the debts Ma had been saddled with after Dad’s death. If everything went well, between her day job—if you could call it that when you worked third shift—and the payments for blood “donation,” she could get Ma back on stable footing in a year. And until she was sure Ma would be alright, she wouldn’t be able to get on with her own life.
At thirty-three years old, she was more than overdue. She hadn’t had a real vacation in over two years, not since Dad got sick. She hadn’t seen much of her friends, too consumed by the needs of her parents, while her friends were all busy starting their own families. And that was probably what ate at Tessa the most—she hadn’t been in a relationship in several years. And she certainly couldn’t start one now—not when she was living with her mother and working third shift and spending three nights a week having bloody orgasms with an undead stranger.
She liked to think of herself as a Strong Independent Woman who Didn’t Need No Man, but the fact was, she was lonely. She missed the emotional connection of being in a relationship. She missed the comfort of knowing somebody was there for her. And then there was sex. God, she missed sex. Furtive masturbation in her childhood bedroom really wasn’t getting it done.
But relentless, venom-induced orgasms while being clutched in the arms of a strapping, undead farm boy? Would it be absurd if she asked him to cuddle afterwards?
Probably. Her gaze slid to the outline of his still-hard cock beneath his jeans. Yeah, no asking for cuddles.
“Feeling better?” Amos asked.
She jerked her gaze up, mortified. But Amos hadn’t caught her scoping out his dick. His attention was on the energy bar wrapper, which he was neatly folding into a precise square.
“Were you a farmer?” Tessa blurted.
Amos blinked, no doubt taken aback by the sudden change of topic. “As a mortal? No. I lived in the city my whole life. I worked at a steel mill. Casting parts for large engines—trains, ships, things like that.”
That explained the shoulders .
“And you?” Amos asked, almost hesitantly.
“Oh. I’m a nurse.” She plucked at her scrubs. “I work at a hospice in palliative care.”
For a second, Amos looked totally blank-faced, then slightly incredulous. “A hospice nurse,” he repeated.
She raised her eyebrows. “Yes. Is that okay?”
“Of course it is. It’s just, you spend your days caring for people who are gravely ill or dying, and then when you’re done with that, you take care of an undead immortal. You have a diverse resume.”
It took a second for her still-scattered mind to grasp the irony. When she did, she smiled. “Well, if we’re being technical about it, I take care of the undead immortal first, then I go to the hospice. I work nights.”
“Ah, so you see the sun about as much as I do.”
“Well, I get to see the sunrise after work in the mornings. But then I go to sleep and wake up in the dark.”
They were both quiet for a moment. Tessa’s eyes landed on the bright, sunshiny flowers.
“Do you miss it?” she asked.
“The sun?”
She nodded.
“When I was first turned, I missed it desperately. But I’ve become accustomed to my life as it is.” He shrugged. “And I’ve learned how much beauty there is in the night. Moonlight on still water. The city lights against the night sky. The quietness of the streets. And when you leave the city, go out into the country, there’s even more. Fireflies in the summer. The brightness of the stars in a winter sky. The presence of night creatures like foxes and owls. When I was mortal, I slept through all that.”
She was so caught up in the simple poetry of his words and the soft rumble of his voice, it took her a second to realize he’d finished speaking. “Oh.” She straightened. “That sounds really nice.”
“I’m sorry,” Amos said suddenly, looking chagrined. “You told me that you have to go to your job after this, and I’ve been droning on.”
Had he mistaken the dazed look on her face for boredom? “No, really, it’s fine.” Then again, maybe he was trying to politely kick her out. She got up and grabbed her bag. “Thanks for, uh… having me?”
Their eyes met. A fraught silence stretched between them. Amos was the first to break, a wry smile pulling at his lips. Tessa smiled back as a choked breath escaped her, dangerously close to a giggle.
“I assure you, it was my pleasure,” Amos said.
It was definitely mine, she thought, following him as he walked her back to the front door.