Chapter 3
O n Friday evening, Amos was already waiting at the front door when Tessa arrived. She rang the doorbell, and Amos counted ten breaths before he opened the door so she wouldn’t realize he’d been poised there like a stalking cat.
“Hi,” she said softly, offering a shy smile.
“Tessa. Welcome.” Amos let his gaze track over her as she stepped inside. She was wearing scrubs, green today, and all her thick, dark hair was pulled back in a tidy French braid. Amos was tempted to unravel it, but he kept his hands to himself, struggling not to loom while she toed her shoes off and deposited her bag beside them.
He forced himself to step back, to give her space. His fangs were aching, his mouth filling with saliva. But the bloodthirst was secondary to the almost puppyish eagerness at being able to hold her again, the anticipation of making her come, and the few minutes of conversation they might share afterwards.
In the sitting room, Tessa settled herself on the settee as if she’d always done this. As if sharing her blood, her warmth, her pleasure, with him was a familiar old routine. How badly Amos wanted it to be true. He froze in the doorway, stricken by a wave of helpless longing. Maybe engaging a blood donor had been a bad idea. The pleasure of live blood from a willing partner was incomparable, but the accompanying feelings were…distressing.
“Amos? Are you alright?”
He gave himself a mental shake, pushing the bleak thoughts away. “Fine. Lost in thought. Sorry about that.” He crossed the room to stand before her, gazing down, swallowing in anticipation. He began to lower himself towards her, but Tessa stopped him with a brief touch against his hand.
“Wait.”
He froze.
“Sorry if this is really presumptuous, but, um…what if I laid down?”
Amos’s brows drew together as he pictured Tessa stretched out beneath him while he braced himself over her. It skirted dangerously close to the true extent of what Amos wanted from her. He tried to find a tactful way of saying so. “I’d have to lean over you. You might feel…trapped.”
Tessa flushed. “I wouldn’t feel trapped. I trust you.”
Flattered pride left him momentarily speechless.
“And we ended up laying down last time anyway.” Her flush deepened, but she held his gaze.
His fangs throbbed. His cock twitched. If it hadn’t been two days since he’d had live blood, he’d already be at half mast.
“So we did,” Amos replied, his voice rough. He cleared his throat. “However you’re comfortable. I’d stand on my head, if that’s what you wanted.”
Tessa laughed, a charmingly bubbly sound, her dark eyes glittering with humor. “That won’t be necessary.” She shifted, drawing her legs up onto the settee and lowering herself onto her back. She folded her hands over her abdomen and looked up at Amos expectantly.
Amos gazed down at her, entranced for a moment by the sight of her. She looked soft and warm and sweet. She was the sunshine he would never again witness, brought to him instead in the form of a quietly beautiful woman. Tessa was watching him back, he realized, her gaze soft and unafraid. He needed to touch her, to taste her. Moving slowly, he eased one knee onto the settee and leaned over her, gripping the backrest with one hand and the arm with the other. Tessa swallowed, drawing his eye to the motion of her throat. Her lips parted, the tip of her tongue sweeping over them, wetting them. The urge to kiss her was almost as strong as the bloodthirst.
Amos brought one hand to her face, gently cupping her cheek. Tessa leaned into his touch, tilting her jaw up, exposing her throat to him. Another wave of sweet longing tore through him. Before he could do or say anything stupid, he lowered his mouth to her throat and bit.
Tessa gasped. Her head fell back, giving Amos even more access to her throat. At the first draw of hot, rich blood, she whimpered. On the second, she moaned. He felt her hands brush his chest, sliding up and up until she could circle her arms round his neck. Her thighs parted, inviting him to sink between them. Her breathy moans echoed in his ears as her hips rocked against his. His cock responded, thickening and stiffening with each grinding press of her hot, needy cunt. Soon he was rocking against her in return, using his rigid length to magnify the orgasm his venom was giving her.
Her sobbing breaths had turned rhythmic—some kind of chanting whisper. My name , he realized with a nearly painful jolt of pleasure. This soft, warm, intoxicating woman was gasping his name as she clung to him and climaxed in his arms. It was too much—the sound of her, the feel of her, the taste of her. It all built inside of him like the gathering of thunderclouds. And then like lightning, sharp, white-hot pleasure chased down his spine and exploded outwards.
For the first time in his immortal life, Amos came while feeding. The combined pleasure was greater than anything he’d ever felt before. He lost all sense of himself for a moment, awash only in the overwhelming bliss. It seemed to go on forever, though it could only have been a few seconds. When he came back to himself, his fangs were still buried in Tessa’s throat, her arms still tight around his neck, her hips still rocking against his.
His heart pounded in his ears, his breath sawed raggedly from his lungs as he eased his bite from her skin. A tremor ran down his back as he lapped gently at the healing wounds. Tessa gradually went languid and limp beneath him. At last her eyes opened. She looked up at him with an easy, blissed-out smile that made his heart twist.
Their faces were only inches apart, noses practically touching. It would be so easy to close the distance and kiss her. He thought maybe something in Tessa’s expression suggested it wouldn’t be unwelcome. But he couldn’t trust himself to make that call. He wanted it too badly to put any stock in hunches and maybes. Forcing himself to do the right thing, he drew back. Tessa let him go, swinging her arms over her head and arching her back in a stretch that was too erotic for his addled brain. He couldn’t stop himself from staring.
When she relaxed back down against the cushions, Tessa cocked one eyebrow at him, still smiling. “So, it seemed like maybe you got more out of that than usual?”
Thanks to Tessa, he was once again capable of blushing. His face flooded with heat. “Yes.”
She let out a smug little chuckle. “Am I that good?”
“You have no idea,” Amos told her sincerely. He shifted backwards, out of the cradle of her thighs, losing the last bit of contact with her. “I’ll be right back.”
He took advantage of his vampiric speed and raced to his bedroom, changing into a clean pair of briefs before he rinsed his mouth out. Satisfied that he was no longer a mess, he went to the kitchen to gather food and drinks for Tessa. Back in the sitting room, he found her kneeling before the coffee table, nose pressed into the floral arrangement.
She looked up at him. “New flowers today?” The arrangement was a riot of purple, pink, and blue flowers, colors that made him think of summer meadows
“Of course,” he answered simply. He’d taken note of her bashful joy on Wednesday when she’d realized the flowers were for her. Going forward, he had every intention of welcoming her with a new arrangement at every visit.
Tessa slid back onto the settee as Amos sat down. He spread the snacks across the coffee table and glanced over at her as she leaned forward to peruse them. His bite mark was already closing over. By the time she left there’d only be faint pink marks. By the time she reached her workplace, it’d be gone entirely.
Tessa chose an energy bar and sat back with it, settling in like she had nowhere else to be. How long until she decided she had to go? Amos resisted the urge to glance at the clock. If she saw, she’d think he wanted her to leave.
“Can I ask a nosy question?” Tessa asked as she peeled the energy bar wrapper open.
“Sure,” he replied easily. He couldn’t imagine what she could ask that would have a worse answer than the things he’d already revealed to her.
“How old are you? I mean, how old were you when you were turned?”
Amos hesitated. He knew he was being foolish and vain, especially considering his actual age was in the triple-digits, but he didn’t want to reveal his mortal age only to find out that Tessa was far younger. “Forty-two,” he said. “In February, 1918.”
“Oh, wow. You just missed the Spanish Flu.”
Amos blinked, surprised by her awareness. “Yes. And the draft, by a few months.”
Tessa leaned back, fixing him with a speculative look. “I know you’re an undead immortal, but it’s really just hitting me now how old you are.”
He managed not to wince. “In the grand scheme of my kind, I’m considered relatively young.”
A little chuckle escaped her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you old. I’m thirty-three and I feel ancient.”
It was Amos’s turn to laugh. “ You? ”
“I know it’s silly. I think I’m just so conscious of my age because I’m so behind where I’m supposed to be.”
Amos frowned. “‘Behind’?”
“Not married. No kids. Living with my—” she bit off the last words, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.
Living with her parents , he guessed. He didn’t say anything. It obviously embarrassed her .
“So, what about you?” Tessa asked, staring fixedly at her energy bar. “Forty-two when you were turned? You probably had a family.”
He tried to bring those memories to the forefront, but as always, they were murky and indistinct. He could dredge up vague impressions of a soft smile, curling blonde hair, a fondness for baking. With each passing day, they faded more and more.
“I was married,” he said, the words coming slowly as he parsed through those faint remembrances. “But I was a widower by the time I was turned. She had passed a few years before. Tuberculosis.” He paused, willing the memories to sharpen, but they wouldn’t. “We never had children. Not sure if it was me or her who couldn’t. Maybe it was both of us. In those days, there was no way of knowing. You just accepted that it wasn’t in the cards and got on with life.”
“Do you miss her?” Tessa asked gently.
He hesitated again. How could you miss someone you couldn’t clearly remember? It felt awful to admit it. But he didn’t want to lie, so he told her the truth. “My memories of her are fuzzy. I can recall facts, but that’s it really. Her maiden name was Beatrice Lundgren. We were married at St. Paul’s over on La Salle. She… she loved raspberries? Or was it strawberries?” His words were flat. He felt hollow for how little the recitation of facts affected him.
There was a gentle touch on his knee. Tessa had reached out to him, her eyes soft with sympathy. “It’s okay, Amos. It was a long time ago.”
Such a long time. More than three of Tessa’s lifetimes.
“I feel guilty for not…” He couldn’t say the words— not missing her. He had a faint impression of himself as a mortal man, recently widowed, and deeply in despair over it. But the despair didn’t touch him now. It was like he was looking at somebody else’s life. Much of his mortal life was like that. He couldn’t remember his parents’ names, or his siblings. He couldn’t remember the house he grew up in or the name of the factory where he’d worked most of his adult life. He’d lost so many people. It should affect him. He should feel sad. But all he really felt was faintly nostalgic.
Tessa shifted closer to him, leaning her shoulder against his. “I see a lot of grieving families in my work. For a lot of them, when their loved one finally passes, there are no tears. They knew death was coming—sometimes they knew it for a long time—and they went through their grieving while their loved one was still alive. They’re not bad people for moving past their grief. And you aren’t either.”
Her words soothed a raw part of his soul. He wanted to take her into his arms again, just to hold her. Just to absorb the comfort of her presence. A gentle silence settled between them, comfortable and thoughtful.
“Can I ask you another nosy question?” Tessa asked after a moment.
“You can if you actually eat that energy bar instead of picking at it,” Amos said.
Tessa smiled and rolled her eyes, but she took a big bite of the energy bar. “Happy?” she asked with a full mouth.
“Ecstatic. What’s your question?”
“How were you turned?”
“Ah, that.” Amos reached for a bottle of juice and twisted it open for Tessa. He held it while she finished her energy bar. “It’s not a terribly exciting story. I was attacked by a young vampire who lost control while feeding from me. She drained me far enough to kill me, and then her venom resurrected me. ”
“It was an attack? ” Tessa stared at him, appalled.
“Yes. What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought you made some sort of arrangement with a vampire. Like, a consensual, planned transition.”
Amos laughed. “No. That happens, though it’s rare. Most of us are turned by young, inexperienced vampires who accidentally turn their supper into an eternal obligation.”
Tessa tilted her head questioningly. “Obligation?”
“I don’t have any personal experience, since I’ve never turned anyone. But I’m told that those who have done it feel a strong bond to their progeny.”
“Does that mean… the vampire who turned you, she’s bonded to you in some way?”
“Eat your energy bar,” Amos prompted. Tessa scowled at him, but obeyed. “And, yes. Even a century later, my dam still tries to mother me. Which is a bit rich, considering I’m actually older than her when you take both our mortal and immortal lives into account.”
“How is that possible?”
“She was only nineteen years old when she was turned. And then she turned me within her first year as a vampire.”
“Are you angry with her for attacking you?”
“Not anymore. I was angry at first. But I’ve adjusted, and now she’s my oldest friend.”
Tessa was quiet, chewing contemplatively. When she finally finished the energy bar, Amos passed her the bottle of juice. He could sense the questions building in her mind, and decided it was his turn to be the interrogator.
“What about you?” Amos asked. “You said you’re not married—were you ever? ”
Tessa shook her head. “No. Never married. Never engaged.”
He took that in, somewhat surprised. She was beautiful and interesting and insightful and curious and kind. She obviously thought that not being married was some kind of failure on her part—one of the ways she was “behind” in life—but Amos couldn’t quite fathom how she didn’t have her choice of men who were ready to give her what she wanted.
“Why not?” he blurted out tactlessly.
Tessa paused, clearly trying to find words. “I…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. These last few years have been rough, and I haven’t really been in a position to date. But it’s not like it’s always been that way. I’ve had relationships. They just never made it that far.” She shrugged again, a quick, slightly defensive gesture.
Taking pity, Amos changed the conversation. “How did you find out about HemoMatch?”
“The daughter of one my patients told me about it a few months ago. We were talking about the costs of end-of-life care and how the bills pile up and… all that. She was grateful for my care for her dad, so she told me about how she was managing to cover her father’s costs with HemoMatch.”
The mention of money prickled at his subconscious. “Why did you sign up, then?”
She sighed. “I was in a similar boat with my dad. After he passed, there was so much debt and it’s been this huge hole my family’s been trying to dig our way out of.”
“I’m sorry,” Amos said, wanting to kick himself for asking. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Tessa was quiet for a moment. “Remember what I said about grieving someone before they’re gone? I’m just glad he’s not suffering anymore. ”
“What was it?” he asked gently.
“Cancer. It started in his throat, then it metastasized to his lungs and brain. He fought for a long time. For a while, we were so sure he was going to beat it.” She shook her head.
Obeying an instinct, Amos reached out and took her hand. She squeezed his fingers, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“Sorry,” she said after a moment. “I’m supposed to come over here to feed you. Not depress you.”
“Tessa, don’t apologize. You’re more than just a source of blood.”
She let out a breath, something halfway between a laugh and sigh. “High praise from a vampire.”
“It is,” he said lightly, though he meant it with total sincerity. He nudged her shoulder gently with his. “Drink the juice.”
She slanted a slightly annoyed look at him, but she brought the bottle to her lips and tipped it back. Amos watched the motion of her throat as she swallowed, then quickly tore his gaze away when she pulled the bottle back.
“This is good.” She looked down at it, then glanced at Amos. “Do you eat? I mean, besides blood?”
“No. Not since I was turned.”
“Do you miss it?”
Another frustrating almost-memory that he couldn’t quite bring to the forefront of his mind. “No. I can’t really remember the taste of food. I don’t feel hunger for anything but blood.”
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I think that’s what I’d miss the most, if I were a vampire.”
“Not the sun?”
“Hmm… no. My nonna’s meatballs and my abuelita’s ta males outshine the sun.”
Amos smiled, charmed by her conviction but also encouraged. The idea that she was willing to give up daylight, but still wanted to eat human food was… promising. “You have an Italian grandmother and a Mexican grandmother?”
Tessa nodded. “Mom’s side is Italian, Dad’s side is Mexican.”
Amos might not be able to enjoy food anymore, but he had a television and the internet and a reasonable awareness of cultural stereotypes. “I take it you ate well, growing up.”
Tessa laughed, the sound wrapping around Amos’s heart with a smoky little squeeze. “I definitely did. What about you? What kinds of things did you grow up eating in… eighteen… uh…”
“I was born in 1877,” Amos said, slanting her an amused glance. “And I doubt you would’ve enjoyed my childhood diet. My parents were Norwegian immigrants. I don’t remember much of it, but I recall that there was a lot of pickled fish. And potatoes.”
“Can’t really go wrong with potatoes, to be honest.” Tessa shrugged as she tipped back the last of the juice. Amos watched the movement of her throat as she swallowed, eyes darting away when she looked back at him. “Well… I guess I’ve taken up enough of your time,” she said, moving to stand.
Amos rose with her. “Of course not. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” Stay forever .
He walked with Tessa back to the front door, holding her bag while she slipped her shoes back on. She took her bag with a soft “Thanks,” and reached for the door. “See you Monday, Amos. Have a nice weekend. ”
Monday, he realized with a pang, was three days away. He quickly fixed his face with a polite smile. “See you then.”
And then Tessa slipped out and Amos stood at the door, watching through the peephole as her silhouette moved out of sight.
There were certain rules Amos had agreed to abide by when he’d signed the contract with HemoMatch. First and foremost, that he would do no harm—physical or psychological—to his assigned donor. Second, and nearly as important, was that he would not put a claim mark on his donor. To enforce both policies, donors were subject to monthly physicals. If any harm had been done to them, or if they bore an unwanted claim mark, the offending vampire would lose their donor privileges for a century and be hauled before the Council for punishment.
Amos had no problem honoring those rules. It was the third that was giving him trouble.
No hunting your donor.
It was a vampire’s nature to hunt their prey. It was even more their nature to follow and watch over a bloodmate. Neither of which applied to Tessa. But after feeding from her multiple times, feeling her climax in his arms, and then having a quiet, easy conversation with her afterwards, his primal nature wanted to assign greater meaning to their relationship than he had any right to.
The urge to follow her after she left his house rivaled the intensity of the blood cravings he’d experienced as a freshly-turned vampire. Those cravings had been impossible to resist then, and this new one was just as impossible now. A few minutes after Tessa had departed, Amos slipped out after her.