Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
BEX
There are probably a thousand things I could be eating for dinner right now.
The refrigerator is stocked with expensive cheeses, fresh produce, fancy deli meats, and at least three different kinds of berries.
There are plenty of restaurants all over the city that will deliver here, and I’m pretty sure Elliott has enough money that I could order a five-course meal every night for the rest of my life without him even noticing the charges.
And yet, here I am. Curled up on the sofa with my legs folded underneath me, eating instant ramen straight out of the cup.
God, I’ve missed this shit.
There’s something comforting about food that requires absolutely no effort beyond boiling water and waiting three minutes. No garnish, no artisanal ingredients, no pretentious bullshit. Just noodles, powdered flavoring, and enough sodium to give the health-conscious an aneurysm.
I slurp up the last tangled mouthful, broth splattering my lower lip.
Perfect.
The elevator dings, and I startle, nearly inhaling a noodle as my head snaps toward the foyer. The doors glide open to reveal a familiar blond vampire, and my face immediately splits into a grin.
“Albie!”
He inclines his chin in greeting, a reluctant smile pulling at his lips.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I lean forward to set the ramen cup on the coffee table, licking a drop of broth from my thumb. “You here to see Eli?”
“Actually, no. I’m here to see you.”
I perk up. “Really?”
“Mhmm,” he hums. “Doc asked me to do a blood draw.”
A little spark of excitement shoots through me. “About time he started drinking from his source,” I say, unfolding myself from the sofa and planting my bare feet on the floor.
“It’s for lab samples,” he clarifies.
My excitement promptly fizzles. “Oh,” I huff, dragging a hand through my hair as I glance toward the staircase. “Of-fucking-course. He’s been holed up in that stupid lab for the last two nights.”
Which is weird.
Not the lab part– Elliott spending hours on end up there is perfectly normal.
What’s weird is that he hasn’t asked me to join him or taken me up on it when I’ve offered.
Apparently, I’ve been temporarily relieved of my research assistant duties without so much as a performance review– probably because I ruined one of his precious samples.
He still drags me into his playroom each night afterwards, though, so I suppose I can’t complain too much. Priorities.
Albert gestures toward the lounge. “Shall we?”
I pad across the room to him, hooking my arm through his. “Lead the way, pretty boy.”
His mouth flattens, and I grin.
I’d almost forgotten how much fun it is to annoy him.
We head into the lounge together, and I immediately drop down onto the sofa and make myself comfortable while he goes over to the cabinet to retrieve his supplies. He starts laying out everything with practiced efficiency, the whole setup giving me a very specific sense of déjà vu.
I extend my arm toward him, a smirk curling my lips. “Here we are again.”
He pauses, blue eyes slowly lifting to mine. “Don’t even think about it.”
“About what?” I ask innocently.
“You know.”
A smirk tugs at my mouth. “I really don’t.”
“Offering me your blood,” he deadpans.
“Oh, relax,” I say, waving him off. “I’m not making that mistake again.”
His expression remains unamused as he sets to work tying the band around my upper arm.
“Although,” I add thoughtfully, “seeing Elliott go all psycho-possessive was pretty hot…”
“You know, I used to think you were fun until you almost got me killed,” Albert mutters wryly.
“Psh, I am fun,” I fire back, sticking out my tongue.
He rolls his eyes as he swabs the inside of my elbow with an alcohol wipe. “Hold still.”
“Yes, sir,” I purr.
He gives me another withering look, then the needle slides into my skin with a sharp pinch, dark red blood winding through the tubing and into the collection pouch below.
Something about seeing it reminds me of Elliott drinking from a glass, which naturally reminds me of his mouth, which naturally reminds me of several other things his mouth has been doing lately…
Albert fills the pouch quickly, clamping the tubing and removing the needle.
“That’s it?” I ask as he presses gauze against the puncture.
He jerks a nod.
“You sure you don’t want to take a little extra?” I tease.
His eyes narrow.
“Not for you, just in case Eli needs a little snack.”
“No,” he replies flatly.
“Emergency juice box?”
“No.”
“Midnight Capri Sun?”
“Bex.”
“Fine,” I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Damn, Albie, lighten up.”
His jaw clenches as he caps the pouch, setting it aside. “I was given explicit instructions regarding the quantity to draw,” he murmurs. “And unlike you, I’ve learned my lesson about following protocol.” His gaze lifts to mine, narrowing. “I won’t let you tempt me into trouble again.”
“Boring,” I sigh, feigning a yawn.
He starts tidying up his supplies while I peel away the gauze to inspect my arm. The tiny puncture has already stopped bleeding, so I toss the gauze onto the coffee table and push to my feet.
The room immediately tilts.
Albert catches my elbow before I can topple sideways. “Sit down,” he barks.
“I’m fine,” I say, shaking off his grip.
“You’ve just had blood drawn.”
“Psh, I’ve had more blood than that taken before.”
“Sit for a few minutes, at least.”
I wave him off, bending forward to snatch the blood bag off the coffee table. It’s still warm, the heat of it leeching through the thin plastic and into my palm.
Albert frowns. “What are you doing?”
“Making a delivery,” I say, holding up the pouch triumphantly.
He extends a hand. “I can take it to him.”
I shake my head, drawing the pouch into my chest protectively. “But I’m already here.”
“So am I,” he replies, still holding out an expectant palm.
“Yeah, but I live here.”
He stares at me, clearly unsure how to argue my very valid point.
“Unless you wanna stick around and hang out?” I smile sweetly, batting my lashes. “There’s a Real Housewives marathon on TV. We could make a blanket nest on the couch, give each other manicures…”
“As tempting as that sounds, I have somewhere else to be,” he mumbles.
“Ouch.” I squint at him, tilting my head. “Is he hot, at least?”
A smirk pulls at the corner of Albert’s mouth. “Which one?”
I suck in a gasp, slapping his arm. “Shut up, are you off to have a sexy vampire three-way?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he replies, winking.
“I really would,” I admit as I spin on a heel, heading for the door. “Have fun!”
I leave him to clean up and head upstairs, bare feet slapping against the steps and the blood bag swinging lazily from my fingers.
When I enter the lab, Elliott’s seated at the long stainless-steel workbench with his attention fixed on the analyzer– exactly where he’s been every night this week.
His dark hair is disheveled like he’s been running his hands through it nonstop, his glasses sitting low on his nose while he studies whatever data is scrolling across the screen.
He looks exhausted.
Well, Elliott’s version of exhausted. Which mostly means his hair isn’t perfect and his resting bitch face has somehow gotten even bitchier.
His head lifts when I enter, brows raising slightly.
“Special delivery!” I announce, strutting toward him with an exaggerated sway of my hips and holding out the pouch in offering.
His eyes drop to it, pupils flaring.
“Extra fresh,” I add with a wink.
He takes it from me without comment and sets it down on the workbench, promptly returning his attention to the analyzer.
That’s it.
No smile, no gratitude.
Barely even a fucking glance.
I heave a sigh, resting an elbow against the workbench and leaning forward just enough to put my tits right in his line of sight.
“Can I tempt you into taking a break?” I ask, dropping my voice to a low, seductive purr.
“No,” he replies without even looking up.
Rude.
“Not even a little one?” I press.
“Beatrix.”
“Bex.” I straighten, pushing away from the workbench with an exaggerated huff. “Fine.”
Clearly, the man would rather stare at blood than appreciate the living, breathing woman standing three feet away from him.
His loss.
I turn and start for the door, making it a whole two steps before something sharp punches into my heel.
“Ow!” I exclaim, pain shooting through my foot as I jerk it off the floor.
Elliott’s chair scrapes behind me. “What happened?”
“I stepped on something.”
He’s beside me before I can even finish the sentence, crouching at my feet. “Let me see.”
“Hold on,” I grit out, bracing a hand on his shoulder as I lift my foot, twisting awkwardly to see the bottom of it.
A thin shard of glass protrudes from my heel, blood welling around it.
Elliott goes unnaturally still as his gaze locks onto the blood. “That must be from the vial you broke,” he murmurs, jaw flexing.
“You missed a piece?”
His dark eyes snap up to mine. “Apparently.”
“Wow,” I snort. “Sloppy work, Doctor.”
“You shouldn’t be barefoot in here,” he grumbles.
Despite the clipped response, his gloved hands are remarkably gentle when he cups my ankle. He angles my foot toward the light, examining the wound.
“It’s embedded fairly deep,” he observes.
“Great,” I grit out.
“I need to remove it.”
“No shit.”
His gaze lifts to mine. “Ready?”
I trap my lower lip between my teeth, nodding.
Cradling my ankle in one hand, Elliott carefully pinches the exposed edge of the glass between the gloved fingers of his other, tugging gently.
“Oh, fuck, wait,” I choke as he starts to remove the shard, jerking instinctively in response to the pain.
The movement dislodges the glass from my heel, but the edge of it slices through his latex glove in the process, a bead of dark blood appearing along his finger.
“Shit, did it cut you?” I ask, though the answer’s obvious.
The blood along his finger wells thicker, dripping down onto the shard and mingling with my own.
And then… it glows.
I stare.
Elliott stares.
The glass between his fingers isn’t reflecting the overhead lights– it’s actually fucking glowing, illuminating the mingled streaks of red coating the opaque surface.
My breath catches, because I’ve seen that reaction before. My brain scrambles backward through the last few days– a glass tube, two samples, James and Taylor…
Their blood is uniquely compatible. When combined, it reacts.
My heart stops.
No fucking way.
My gaze snaps to Elliott, whose face has gone completely blank.
“Eli…”
He moves faster than I can blink. One second, I’m standing there with my hand on his shoulder, and the next, he’s upright and his arm’s locked around my waist, crushing me against him.
His fist tangles in my hair, yanking my head sideways, then pain flashes through my neck as his fangs sink in deep.
I gasp, and then the venom hits, pleasure detonating beneath my skin.
It rushes outward from the bite in a molten wave, flooding my veins so quickly my knees buckle. Every muscle in my body goes slack, the pain disappearing beneath a euphoric haze so intense I can barely remember how we even got here in the first place.
A moan tumbles from my throat, Elliott’s arm tightening around my waist to keep me upright.
His mouth stays sealed to my neck as he drinks in greedy pulls, his chest rumbling against me in satisfaction.
My fingers curl into his shirt, and for one glorious, dizzying second, this is exactly what I’ve wanted.
His bite.
His venom.
That intoxicating rush that I’ve missed so much.
He groans against my throat as he feeds, another wave of pleasure rolling through me. My eyes flutter closed as I sink into the sensation.
God, I remember now.
Why donors get addicted, why I wanted this so badly. Everything feels warm, soft, far away. Except Elliott. I’m hyper-aware of his hand in my hair, his arm around my waist, his mouth pulling relentlessly at my throat…
After several swallows, the pleasure starts to change. Not disappear, exactly, just… blur. My body feels heavier than it did a moment ago, my fingers loosening against his shirt as a strange coldness creeps into my hands.
Something isn’t right.
The realization surfaces sluggishly through the haze, and I try to lift my head.
“Elliott…”
His name comes out barely louder than a breath, but he just keeps drinking as if he can’t even hear me. My pulse pounds against his mouth, slower now, each beat seeming farther apart than the last as my vision darkens around the edges.
I dig my fingernails into his forearm as a jolt of fear punches through the venom. I try to push him away, but my arms are jelly, my fingers sliding uselessly against him.
He doesn’t stop. Not when I whimper, not when my vision narrows to a tunnel. I feel myself slipping, my breath slowing, hands going slack.
I want to tell him to stop, to warn him he’s gone too far. But all that comes out is a broken sigh before the world folds in on itself, darkness swallowing me whole.