Chapter 12 #2
“Bonds like theirs were thought to be extinct,” he continues. “Or even just a myth. The secrecy of our species doesn’t lend itself to thorough record keeping, so I’m still researching, trying to uncover everything I can about the viniculum sanguinis.”
“The what?”
The ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “The blood tie.” He takes a small sip of wine. “They say long ago, every vampire was bonded to a human counterpart. A single source for sustenance and power.”
“So what happened?” I ask. “I mean, the bond makes Taylor immortal, right?” I gesture toward her with my fork. “So if the stories are true, shouldn’t there be a bunch of other immortal humans running around out there?”
“They were hunted,” James’ deep voice cuts in, drawing my gaze his way.
“Bonded humans don’t age, but their bodies remain mortal.
If they’re killed, death severs the soul tie.
” He frowns, glancing down at his and Taylor’s joined hands.
“The only thing vampires thirst for more than blood is power. Those without a bond sought to level the playing field. Exterminate the bonded human, and their vampire loses the power derived from them.”
I nod slowly, digesting that. “Hence the whole secrecy thing to protect Tay.”
He jerks a nod, squeezing her hand reassuringly.
“The more we learn, the better prepared we’ll be for whatever comes next,” Elliott states. “Everything in the modern age is about spin. We need the full picture so James and Taylor can control the narrative and protect themselves if and when they’re discovered.”
“Speaking of discoveries,” James drawls, tipping his glass toward Elliott, “congratulations on the award from the National Science Board.”
Elliott immediately averts his eyes. “I haven’t received it yet.”
“You won an award?” I ask, blinking at him.
“Yes, they’re presenting it to him at a dinner next week,” James supplies, then turns back toward Elliott. “You should take Bex with you. Make a spectacle of it.”
“Spectacles aren’t really my thing,” Elliott replies dryly.
James smirks knowingly. “Perhaps not, but it’s a golden opportunity to publicize your claiming of a source. Get photographed together, do the whole song and dance…”
I roll my eyes as I drain the last of the whiskey in my glass, setting it back on the table with a dull thud. “Am I really even his source if he hasn’t bitten me yet?”
The whole table goes quiet– and that’s when I realize I said that out loud rather than just thinking it.
Taylor looks surprised, but James doesn’t. Elliott just stares me down, something loaded flickering across his expression that makes my belly do a weird little flip. Then he looks away, lowering his gaze to the untouched food on his plate.
“Do not publicize that information,” James warns, his voice low.
“Why not?” I huff, my earlier irritation resurfacing. “It’s the truth.”
“Because aside from undermining the entire purpose of this arrangement, you never publicly discuss a vampire’s feeding habits,” he replies sternly.
I roll my eyes. “Shocker, more rules of polite vampire society I don’t ascribe to.”
James’ gaze darkens. “This isn’t about manners.”
“Then what’s it about?”
He studies me for a moment over the rim of his glass, looking every bit the ancient vampire king trying– and failing– to muster patience.
“Some vampires perceive abstaining from live feedings as weakness,” he says flatly. “And perception matters. Weakness invites challenge. It would be unwise to give anyone reason to question Eli’s ability to defend his claim over you as his source.”
I spear another bite of chicken and pop it into my mouth, chewing as I consider that. “I thought you said nobody could touch me. Vampire law.”
“The only way a vampire can lose claim to their source is if another challenges them for it and wins,” James explains.
I tilt my head. “Like a fight?”
He nods grimly.
“Well don’t I have a say over who claims me?” I scoff.
“No.”
The answer comes so quickly I almost laugh.
“And why the fuck not?”
“You’re human.”
The alcohol in my system takes that statement about as well as you’d expect. I set my fork down, glaring across the table at James.
“So I don’t matter, is what you mean,” I bite out. “I’m human, so I’m worthless?”
“Not worthless,” James says. “Just worth less.”
“James!” Taylor admonishes, whirling on him.
I whip my gaze toward her, pointing at James. “Do you hear this shit?”
“Taylor’s different,” he reasons.
I snap my attention back to him. “Why? Because she’s yours?”
“Yes.” He lifts his chin arrogantly. “If anyone challenged my claim, I’d rip them apart.”
“Like that Sebastian dude?” I scoff.
James goes still, the temperature in the room dropping instantly.
Oops.
Though in my defense, he probably shouldn’t have torn the guy’s literal head off at a public event if he didn’t want people talking about it. I wasn’t there, but Taylor painted me a vivid enough picture afterward.
“Whoa, can we pump the brakes?” Taylor interjects, holding up both hands. “We’re all supposed to be on the same side here.”
“Tell that to Dracula,” I mutter, reaching for my whiskey. “He’s the one insulting the entire human race.” I frown down into my empty glass, then look up at Taylor. “Which you’re still a part of, by the way.”
“I’m simply stating how things are amongst my kind,” James replies evenly. “My personal beliefs don’t necessarily align with vampire society as a whole.”
“Sure they don’t,” I snort.
Beside me, Elliott remains silent, though his fingers tighten slightly around the stem of his wine glass.
“Bex,” Taylor warns.
“Whose side are you on?” I fire back.
“The side of whatever doesn’t get me killed!”
That knocks a little of the fight out of me. Not all of it– just enough to remind me this isn’t some hypothetical debate. Taylor actually has to live in this weird vampire world.
And apparently, so do I.
The silence that follows stretches for a few beats, and the last person I expect to break it is the man beside me.
There’s a sharp clink, the stem of Elliott’s wine glass snapping clean in half. The last sip of wine splashes across the white tablecloth as he catches the top of the glass a second too late and it settles awkwardly in his palm.
Taylor gasps dramatically, and I whip my head toward him. Elliott doesn’t so much as blink.
Calmly, he sets the broken glass down and removes the napkin from his lap, dabbing at the spreading stain as though shattering crystal at the dinner table is a perfectly normal occurrence.
“Beatrix is not worth less,” he states, gaze firmly fixed on James.
I glance between them, suddenly very aware of the tension crackling across the table. Neither man moves. Neither looks away.
Then James inclines his head, studying Elliott for a long moment before he speaks.
“No,” he agrees. “She isn’t.”
And just like that, it’s over. The argument, the fallout, whatever weird vampire dominance contest just played out right in front of me. Taylor takes a sip of her wine. James reaches for his fork. Elliott picks up his napkin again.
The world resumes turning.
Meanwhile, I’m left staring down at my plate with absolutely no idea what to do with the fact that Elliott Faulkner just broke a wine glass defending me. And I hate how good it felt.
The rest of the dinner passes more quietly after that.
Taylor and I finish most of our meals while the vampires continue their collective mission to move food around their plates without actually eating it.
Conversation drifts to safer topics, and by the time dessert comes and goes, the tension has mostly faded.
Afterward, Taylor drags me off to the study under the pretense that it’s where James keeps the good whiskey. The excuse is about as subtle as a brick through a window, but the guys respect it, and I appreciate the chance to finally talk one-on-one.
The study is warm and dimly lit, lined with built-in bookshelves and furnished with leather sofas that look even more expensive than the one Alaia bought.
“So, what’s really going on with you?” Taylor asks once we’re settled in on the sofa with fresh drinks in hand.
I stare down at the amber liquid in my glass, swirling it slowly. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” she snorts. “I’ve known you long enough to recognize when something’s wrong.”
I roll my eyes, lifting my glass with one hand and flipping her the bird with the other. The whiskey coats my tongue, blazing a path down my throat and settling warm in my belly.
“Bex,” she presses, bumping her knee into mine.
The movement jostles my hand, whiskey splashing against my lips. I cut her a glare as I lower my glass, licking it away.
“You want the truth?” I ask, knowing full well how ridiculous it’ll sound once I say it out loud, but fuck it– maybe I need to get it off my chest.
She arches a brow expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
“I’m bored out of my fucking mind, Tay,” I groan.
“Every day’s the same. I wake up, wander around the penthouse all day, and at night I have to work in the stupid lab, transferring stupid data to a stupid spreadsheet.
I could handle it if I was getting some hot vampire sex out of the deal, but the dude’s got zero interest in anything other than science bullshit.
Pretty sure he thinks I’m a complete idiot since I don’t understand any of it. ”
I sit up straighter, gesturing to myself.
“I mean, I’m hot, right? Other vamps have paid a small fortune to fuck me, but he looks at me like I’m furniture.
Unless I’m drinking his wine, which I keep doing just to piss him off because then I at least get some sort of reaction out of him.
The man’s a total robot. I could walk around naked and he probably wouldn’t even notice. ”
Taylor blinks at me, evidently caught off guard by my tirade.