Chapter 12 #3
“And he won’t bite me,” I add, throwing up a hand dramatically. “That’s like, the base urge of vampires, but apparently even drinking my blood is beneath him.”
“There’s gotta be more to the biting thing,” she murmurs, furrowing her brow.
“No, I think it’s pretty damn clear.” I take a long pull from my whiskey glass even though I’m now well past buzzed and firmly in drunk territory.
She clucks her tongue, shaking her head.
“I’m also not buying the part about him looking at you like you’re furniture.
I mean, maybe that’s how it seems to you, but from an outsider’s perspective…
” she trails off, shifting toward me on the sofa.
“He actually looks at you, Bex. Like, full eye contact. I’ve known Elliott for months, and he barely makes eye contact with anyone.
Half the time I can’t tell whether he even realizes other people are in the room, but when you’re there, he’s always watching. ”
I pause to consider that for a moment, thinking back to dinner. To the way his eyes kept finding mine. To the way they always seem to find mine.
He doesn’t just make eye contact, he practically assaults me with it. That stare of his is uncomfortable, intense, and impossible to ignore, but I’ve always interpreted it as him looking through me, not at me.
“Trust me,” she continues. “He never looks at anyone, but he looks at you.”
I frown down into my whiskey glass, finding her perception of things even more frustrating than my own. Because if he’s rejecting me, at least I understand the rules. But if he’s not…
Then I have absolutely no idea what to do with that.
“That doesn’t explain the whole not biting me thing,” I grumble.
“No, it doesn’t.” She chews on her lower lip. “But I don’t think it has anything to do with you.”
“So what is it, then?”
“Don’t know,” she replies, tipping her head in contemplation. “There must be something we’re missing.”
My mind flashes back to Elliott breaking the stem of his wine glass, lingering on the way he stared James down across the table. The memories sit uncomfortably beside everything else I think I know.
“He says he hasn’t fed from a live source in decades,” I sigh, taking another sip of whiskey. “Which seems impractical at best and impossible at worst.”
“Not impossible with all the blood banks,” Taylor points out. “Most vamps don’t live feed. Only the ones who can afford to.”
“And he can.”
“Exactly.” She tips her glass toward me. “So there has to be another reason. I don’t know what Elliott Faulkner’s problem is…”
I snort. “Neither does Elliott Faulkner.”
“But whatever it is,” she continues, “I don’t think you’re the issue. He’s had exclusive donors before, and they never last. Clearly, it’s him.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I cluck. “But knowing that doesn’t change anything. If he doesn’t liven things up a little and start biting me, I might actually die of boredom.”
“If you really want him to bite you, then I have no doubt he will,” she says, nodding with drunken certainty. “You’ve never failed to get a man to do something you wanted him to.”
I roll my eyes and drain the last of my whiskey.
“Seriously,” she presses, reaching out to rest a hand on my leg. “You’re magnetic. I’ve always been a little jealous of it, if I’m being honest.”
“You, jealous of me?” I arch a brow in disbelief. “I’m a fucking mess, Tay.”
“In the best way.” She squeezes my knee. “And now that I know how much you’ve been struggling, I feel like a horrible friend. I hate that you didn’t tell me sooner. I’m here for you, you know.”
“I know.”
“So you don’t have to suffer alone.” She levels me with a stern stare. “If you wanna end your donor agreement, James’ offer still stands. He can get you out of the city, set you up–”
“No,” I interject, shaking my head. “I’m not running. I did that my whole life, and I promised myself years ago that I wouldn’t run anymore.”
I always ran.
From foster homes.
From cops.
From memories that used to keep me up at night.
I’m so tired of running.
“Then stay,” she chirps, as if it’s that simple. “Stop spiraling and try to enjoy all your new free time. Work on your art, or call me and we’ll go do something, get you out of that apartment.”
I heave a sigh. “And what about the stubborn ass vampire I’m living with?”
“Work your Bex magic on him,” she suggests, wagging her brows. “If anyone can crack Elliott Faulkner, it’s you.”
“Glad you’re confident.”
“Aren’t you?” She tips her head, studying me. “You’re the most confident person I know.”
I blink back at her.
She’s right.
I am confident.
And the fact that I’ve spent the last week letting Elliott chip away at that confidence is fucking ridiculous. I’ve never been the kind of girl who lets someone else’s opinion of me dictate my opinion of myself, and I’m sure as hell not about to start now.
I set my glass aside. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
I meet her eyes, a grin tugging at my mouth. “For reminding me who I am.”
She smiles back, leaning in to toss an arm over my shoulders and pull me closer. “I love you.”
And just like that, the weight I’ve been carrying all week feels a little lighter.
“Love you too, bitch,” I chuckle, smacking a kiss on her cheek.