Chapter 7 #2
“Mhm,” he hums. “I wanted to see if you had the backbone to survive the doc. If you folded with me, you definitely wouldn’t survive him.”
“Rude.”
“Accurate.”
I roll my eyes, but I can already feel my irritation softening despite myself.
“Doc’s pretty blunt,” Albert continues. “A lot of people mistake that for rudeness.”
“What about you?” I ask.
He darts me a sideways glance. “What about me?”
“Do you think he’s rude?”
Albert snorts. “Doesn’t really matter what I think. He sired me. I owe the man everything.”
I cock a brow. “Sired?”
“Made me vampire.”
“Oh.” Duh.
Albert veers off toward the first doorway on the left, dragging me along with him. The room we enter is completely different from the main space of the apartment– still ridiculously large and expensive, but warmer somehow.
Oversized windows flood the space with late afternoon sunlight, casting soft gold hues across plush cream furniture and dark hardwood floors.
Sleek floating shelves line the walls, packed with books instead of decorative nonsense.
A thick woven rug stretches beneath a low coffee table, and there’s a throw blanket draped over one side of the couch like a real person occasionally exists here.
Unlike the main living space, which feels polished to the point of sterility, this room actually feels lived in. Cozy, even.
Which is why what Albert says next lands like a record scratch.
“This is where I’ll draw your blood.”
I whip toward him so fast it’s dizzying. “Excuse me?”
He throws both hands up. “Hey, I’m a trained phlebotomist. And I’m very good at it, if I do say so myself. The last donor said she barely felt it when I poked her.”
“Poked her?” I repeat, voice shrill. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your blood,” he replies, as if that should somehow clarify things. “Don’t you know how this works?” He suddenly pauses, sucking in a breath. “Oh, you’re new…”
“No, I’m not,” I scoff, weirdly offended by that assumption. “I’ve been a donor for six months. I know how feeding works.”
Albert makes a soft humming sound under his breath, somewhere between amusement and sympathy. “Sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound particularly apologetic. “Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers. It’s just… Doc doesn’t drink directly from the vein.”
I blink. “What?”
“He prefers it from a glass.”
For a second, I genuinely think I misheard him.
“He…” I wrinkle my nose. “Wait. What?”
Albert exhales slowly through his nose like I’m too dumb to grasp whatever he’s trying to say.
“When Dr. Faulkner needs his supply replenished, I’ll draw your blood,” he explains, crossing the room toward a small wooden chest and pulling open the top drawer.
Rows of needles glint from inside, nestled beside coils of rubber tubing.
“Then I’ll bag it up and put it in the fridge for him. Simple as that.”
I open my mouth, but I have no idea what to say, so I just close it again.
No sex, and now no biting?
This arrangement is somehow getting less sexy by the minute.
“But…” I trail off with a frown. “Why would he even want a live-in donor, then?”
Because I know my situation’s unique, but Fran mentioned Dr. Faulkner’s done this before. Multiple times.
He shrugs lightly. “Convenience. He likes it fresh.”
“Then why doesn’t he just bite me?”
“He–” Albert cuts himself off abruptly, snapping his mouth closed.
My eyes narrow immediately. “He what?”
“Nothing.” He shuts the drawer a little too quickly. “He just doesn’t drink from the vein. Some vampires have different preferences, that’s all.”
“Okay…” I say slowly, unsure what the hell to do with that answer since it doesn’t actually explain anything. And judging by the way Albert suddenly won’t make eye contact, he damn well knows it.
I should probably be thrilled I’m not getting bitten every few days. Most donors would kill for an arrangement this easy. But instead, I’m strangely… disappointed?
Because somewhere along the way, I started liking the bites. Craving them, even. The rush, the heat, the strange floating feeling that lingers under my skin for hours after… it’s the cleanest high I’ve ever felt.
This whole situation just isn’t what I expected, at all.
“Ready to move onto the next room?” Albert asks. “Or do you need a minute to mourn the loss of your sexy vampire fantasies?”
Heat flashes across my face. “I wasn’t–”
“You absolutely were,” he smirks.
I roll my eyes, spinning around and heading for the hallway. “What’s next?”
He catches up quickly, leading the way farther down the hall while I keep pace beside him.