Chapter 2
Lia's POV
"If I see actual blood, or even catch the smell of it off a regular person, I get dizzy, nauseous, sometimes I black out completely." Evan gives a bitter smile and points at an empty bottle on the floor. "So I survive on synthetic blood instead. It tastes like someone mixed expired ketchup with motor oil."
"That's rough." I mean it.
"But," he snaps his head up, those dark red eyes locking onto mine, "when you ran into me, you scraped your elbow. I caught the smell of your blood, and I didn't get dizzy. Not even close. What I felt was hunger. Like nothing I've ever felt before."
He swallows hard. "Your blood doesn't trigger it."
I back toward the door, wary. "What are you getting at? I'm warning you, I'm a werewolf. My meat's tough and my blood's probably not great either."
"I'm not asking for free." Evan pulls a card out of his coat pocket. "I've noticed you around. You always order the cheapest thing on the menu, and you never look like you've actually eaten enough."
He holds my gaze, dead serious, almost pleading. "Let's make a deal. I'll keep you fed. In exchange, you let me feed off you. Just one bite whenever you've eaten your fill. I won't take more than that."
I stare at the card, my mind racing.
A rich vampire wants to bankroll my stomach. All he wants in return is a little blood.
With my metabolism running the way it does, I make blood faster than I know what to do with. The blood drive people already complain I show up too often. And now someone's offering to pay real money for it?
This wasn't a vampire. This was a walking meal ticket.
"You sure about this?" I swallow. "I eat a lot. Like, an embarrassing amount. Don't come crying to me later."
"Money's not the issue." Evan's voice is steady. "What I need is blood that won't put me in the hospital."
I don't hesitate. I grab the card and shake his hand, hard.
"Deal. Now come on, let's go get steak. I want ten plates."
Ever since Evan and I struck our weird little bargain, my college life turns around completely.
For the first time, I get to know what it feels like to eat carbs without guilt, or meat without doing math in my head.
Evan holds up his end. He's the perfect meal buddy. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, plus afternoon snacks and late-night runs, whatever I want, he pulls out that card without a word of complaint.
Our regular spot is an upscale steakhouse near campus. Every time I come back to the table with a plate piled high, Evan just sits across from me, watching.
"Slow down. Nobody's taking it from you." He always says that, nursing a cup of something that smells terrible, eyebrows drawn together.
"You wouldn't get it. This is respecting the food." My mouth's full of barbecue when I say it.
Once I'm stuffed and let out a satisfying burp, it's his turn to eat.
We usually find an empty classroom, or his car with the tinted windows. I pull my collar aside a little.
"Come on. Dinner's served."
Evan always gets stiff and careful around this part. He wipes his hands first, then leans in slow. His skin runs cold, and when his mouth touches my neck, it sends a shiver through me every time.
He's gentle about it. His teeth break the skin and there's barely a sting. He really does only take a small amount, never more than a shot glass's worth, like he's savoring an expensive wine.
"Do you actually like the taste, or what?" I ask him once.
Evan licks his lips, a faint blush creeping into his pale face, eyes sliding away from mine. "It's... sweet."
I burst out laughing. "Obviously. I just had three giant boba teas. What did you expect?"
He sighs, gives up, and messes up my hair with his hand.
Three years fly by, and before I know it, we're graduating.
I figure this arrangement, this good thing we've got, will just keep going. Then comes that storming night.
Evan gets a call, and his face goes dark. Something's happened with his family, and his father is ordering him back to the clan headquarters in Europe, tonight.
"I have to go, Lia." He's standing outside my apartment door, soaked through, looking like some giant dog nobody wants.
"Oh." I feel a strange pang of something I can't name, but I push it down fast. "So I guess you're taking the card back?"
Evan gives a small, sad smile. "Keep it. The code's your birthday. I... I don't know how long I'll be gone."
He looks at me, and there's something heavy in his eyes I can't quite read.
"Before I go," he says quietly, "can I have one last real meal?"
I nod and pull my collar aside. "Go ahead, take more this time. Consider it a going-away present."
Evan leans in. At first it's the same as always, gentle. But the second his teeth sink into my skin, something feels wrong.
His breathing turns ragged, and his hands lock onto my shoulders with a grip that's way too strong. He's not holding back this time. He's not stopping.
"Hey, Evan, easy, that hurts." I try to push him off, but he doesn't budge, cold and solid as stone.
His eyes go fully red, and a low growl rises out of his throat, something almost animal. I can feel my blood draining fast, and the room starts to spin.
"Evan! Stop!" I scream with everything I've got.
