Chapter 18

Instead of answering directly, I tilted my head and studied him for a moment. "You saw the blood in my kitchen last night, didn't you? When you dropped the candle."

Guilt and fear warred on his face as he nodded slowly. "I didn't mean to. My hand was shaking and the candle just—it fell into the pot. I'm sorry."

"I'm not angry about that anymore," I said, waving off his apology. "But you must have formed some conclusions about what you saw. About what I might be."

He hesitated, clearly unsure how to answer, and I could see him replaying the events of last night in his mind—the blood, the laboratory equipment, my impossible strength when I'd opened the door for him. "I was terrified," he admitted. "I thought maybe you were doing some kind of illegal experiments, something horrible. But now, looking at you, talking to you—you seem like a good person. I don't think you'd hurt anyone."

The innocent trust in his voice made something in my chest ache, and I shook my head slowly. "I am a good person, Lysander. Or at least, I try to be. But you're wrong about one thing." I met his gaze directly, letting him see the truth in my eyes. "I'm not a person at all."

His breathing quickened, his heart rate spiking so dramatically I could hear the rush of blood through his veins, and the scent of him intensified until I had to close my eyes briefly to maintain control. When I opened them again, I let my fangs extend fully, let the crimson bleed into my irises until I knew I looked every inch the predator I was.

"Do you know what vampires are, Lysander?"

He stared at me, frozen like a deer in headlights, and I could see his mind struggling to reconcile the impossible with the evidence right in front of him. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out, and I continued before he could find his voice.

"The discount I'm offering comes with a condition," I said, reaching up with my free hand to trail my fingers along the side of his face, feeling the heat of his skin and the way he trembled beneath my touch. "You destroyed my carefully prepared meal last night. My artificial blood that I'd spent hours perfecting. And unfortunately, I don't have much in the way of backup supplies right now."

Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed immediately by terror, and he tried to pull away from me. I tightened my grip on his hand, not enough to hurt but enough to make it clear he wasn't going anywhere.

"So here's my proposal," I murmured, leaning closer until I could feel his rapid breath against my face. "You ruined my food. You compensate me with your blood. I haven't eaten yet today, and you're right here, and you do owe me a debt. It seems like a fair exchange, doesn't it? A little bit of blood to erase thirty thousand dollars?"

His eyes were filling with tears now, the green irises swimming with moisture, and I felt my resolve waver slightly. But I'd come too far to back down now, and besides, I was genuinely hungry. The artificial blood I'd consumed before dawn had done little to satisfy the craving his scent had awakened in me.

"I won't turn you into a vampire," I assured him, seeing the question forming on his lips. "That only happens if you drink my blood. This will just be—a meal. Nothing more. It'll hurt when I first bite you, but after that, I promise you'll feel nothing but pleasure. Every nerve ending in your body will light up with sensations you've never experienced before."

I let my hand slide down from his face to cup the back of his neck, my fingers tangling in his soft white hair, and pulled him toward me until his throat was exposed and vulnerable. I could see his pulse jumping frantically beneath the pale skin, could smell the fear-sweetened blood rushing just below the surface, and my fangs ached with the need to pierce that delicate flesh.

"So what do you say?" I whispered against his neck, letting my breath ghost over his skin and feeling him shudder in response. "Do we have a deal? A little pain, a lot of pleasure, and your debt reduced by thirty thousand dollars. That's quite a bargain, don't you think?"

He was crying openly now, silent tears tracking down his flushed cheeks, but he nodded shakily. "I won't become a vampire?" he asked again, his voice breaking. "You promise?"

"I promise," I said, and meant it. "As long as you don't drink my blood, you'll remain perfectly human. This is just dinner, Lysander. Nothing more."

He squeezed his eyes shut, more tears escaping to dampen his lashes, and I felt his entire body tense as he braced himself for what was coming. "Okay," he whispered. "Do it."

I pressed my fangs against his throat, feeling the heat of his skin and the frantic rhythm of his pulse, and allowed myself one last moment of hesitation. This was breaking every rule I'd set for myself over the past century. I'd sworn off human blood, had dedicated myself to finding alternatives, had isolated myself in that swamp mansion specifically to avoid situations like this. But Lysander's scent was overwhelming my carefully constructed defenses, and I was so desperately hungry, and he was right here offering himself to me.

Just this once, I told myself. Just this one time, and then I'll go back to my artificial blood and my isolated life. I'll discover that fresh human blood isn't as good as I remember, that this craving is just a temporary madness brought on by too many years of deprivation. I'll drink from him and realize it was all in my head, and then I can return to my forest and my laboratory and forget this beautiful terrified man ever existed.

Lysander's eyes remained tightly closed, his jaw clenched as he waited for the pain, and I made my decision. My fangs sank into his throat with practiced precision, piercing the delicate skin and finding the rich vein beneath.