Page 16

Finn

Kai (Hot Vampire Bartender):

So the sacrifice. How did it go? Good, bad? World ending?

I almost drop my phone on my face when the message pops up on my screen.

It’s the last night of the weekend and I have done…

nothing. Actually, I did cover a shift for Bedeer last night, which meant not only did I get double weekend rates, I also couldn’t embarrass myself by going back to Bloody Temptations to gawk at Kai.

Instead, I watched a bunch of videos when I got off work, like a self-respecting loser.

It’s a sickness really. But I just really like looking at him.

Getting to know him hasn’t helped. I’ve gotten over that tiny little hurdle of guilt that stopped me watching the videos and now I’m back, and I’m ten times worse.

My crush has become this endless circle of self-torture where I drool over his insane body, but also know just how nice he is too.

Because that’s the thing. I’m not saying that it wasn’t his incredible body that drew me in at first. It’s like his abs are a flower, luring in unsuspecting insects into its orbit, then snap!

It traps them in its sticky web of being a really fucking awesome guy who laughs with you like you’re the last two beings left on the planet.

Or something. That analogy went kind of sideways, but the point is still there. He’s got me hooked and I can’t stop.

At least I’m not watching his videos right now. Maybe he knew somehow, and caught me in the spare thirty minutes between videos.

My neck is aching from how still I’ve been lying on my couch and I have to sit up to read his message. I read it over and over again, the simple words on the screen making my stomach roll and dip like I’m on a roller coaster.

A silly little message shouldn’t make me feel as giddy as I am right now, but I’ve got it bad—the ridiculous smile on my face is shameful. If I wasn’t due for some blood, I would definitely be blushing.

Crossing my legs under me, I consider how I’m going to reply, typing out a few messages before deleting them.

Came close to apocalyptic, but managed to save us all in the end.

Nerves fluttering, I hit send before I can overthink it.

But then I have to wait for his reply, so I end up overthinking it anyway, watching the screen do absolutely nothing like it’s life or death.

When I realise I’ve bitten through my lip and it’s not bleeding, I accept I need to stop.

With extreme effort, I force myself to switch back to the Crumbles thread I was reading before the message came through.

It isn’t anything salacious, just a thread with advice for newbie vamps.

Finding where I left off, I skim it while dragging myself to the kitchen for blood.

Being abandoned by my maker put me in a seriously dangerous—and potentially fatal—situation. The advice on Crumbles has been a blessing from the Gods as I’ve tried to navigate the legal, social and personal quagmire I found myself in.

Turning can be a complicated legal process.

It all depends on the country you’re in.

There is meant to be paperwork and medical tests and then a whole bunch of stuff afterwards to register your new being status with the government so you can get a new ID so you can buy blood.

The sale was restricted to vamps only after a bunch of teenagers got sick drinking it a couple of decades ago.

But I was turned in the Whisper Woods. As a sacred site, it sits outside most legal jurisdictions. Generally speaking, under the treaties of the Great War, the beings of sacred sites are left to deal with things on their own, so long as it doesn’t get out of hand.

And then my maker embraced the dawn the morning after turning me—leaving me completely alone. I had to be registered before I could get home on a vamp flight.

My parents were great about helping me fill out the paperwork and getting it expedited. Even if I had been absolutely mortified to explain that I knew nothing about my one-night-stand-slash-maker. I am not even sure if I had the right name.

I met Christoff at the Black Stump on my last visit back in early autumn. He’d been staying there for a while, and I’d even seen him around, but that was the night we got to talking. And then we got to drinking.

My memory of the night is hazy. I don’t know what happened, and for the first few weeks after, that was hard to deal with.

I’d woken up scared, dangerously hungry and alone for the first time in my life.

With the change I lost Cat—my shifter other half.

I was never a shifter that was closely bonded with their animal self, with Cat more than happy to let me have control of things—unless food was on offer.

But he’d been there my whole life, even if it was just in the deepest recesses of my consciousness, and then he was just… gone.

I don’t know if I’ll ever forget how scary that was. I was just so grateful that the staff there—Mauvy and Woodsy—got me home safe. I wouldn’t have survived that first morning without them.

It’s been just over five months since my turning. And a lot of the time, I still don’t know if I’m actually okay with everything that happened, or if there has just been so much, I haven’t had the space to even think about being upset over it all.

The information in the thread is all stuff that I’ve read before about making sure to have blood on hand for when you wake and keeping your registration up to date.

The comments on the post quickly devolved into an argument about regulations from different countries, so I close the thread and jump back into the drama posts.

There is a new post from a human whose being-partner went on a small rampage at their winter solstice gathering and now they are torn between their family and their partner, so I read through it while my blood heats.

I hadn’t even realised the winter solstice had passed.

The holiday is really more of a human thing than a being thing.

I’ve almost regained my composure—with the help of the fresh blood—when I get Kai’s response and then I’m immediately back to square one.

I have managed to develop some level of chill when we’re face to face, but texting is new.

And, apparently, I have some work to do in not being a total dork about it.

Wow-sounds like we all owe you. Why don’t I take you out for coffee? To say thanks for saving the world. It’s the least I can do.

The blood sticks in my throat, as I’m suddenly unable to swallow. That… that sounds like a date? My brain short fuses for a moment, and all I can hear in my apartment is static.

But then logic kicks back in. Coffee doesn’t have to mean a date. Friends get coffee all the time. I had coffee with Jax and Bedeer the other night after work.

Still, my teeth ache and my belly tightens at the thought of getting coffee with Kai. Because he’s not Bedeer and Jax. He’s Kai .

Coffee sounds good. When are you free?

I’m too nervous to be cute about this anymore. With jittery hands, I hit send and throw my phone on the table and chug the last of my blood. It’s a little too thick and hard to swallow but I force it down.

While I wait for the reply I have to do something with the nervous energy in my hands, so I take a moment to tidy my apartment, avoiding looking at my phone like it’s the sun itself.

I almost jump out of my skin when it vibrates on the glass top of the coffee table.

Don’t suppose you’re free now?

Well. I wasn’t expecting that. I know the club is shut tonight, so I assumed that he’d have something better to do, but nope. He wants to meet. Now.

There is a vamp cafe near the club.

I look down at myself and my fuzzy house socks and comfy sweatpants. Insecurity goes to war with my lowkey obsession with Kai, resulting in a few moments of anxious indecision. Obsession wins out in the end and I manage to find the balls to reply.

Sounds good. Meet in an hour and a half?

Done. See you soon.

Confirmation received, I race to the shower. I’m going to be cutting it fine with the bus. But for a not-date with Kai, I’ll fly if I have to.

***

The Gods must have blessed me or something today, because I manage to make it to the vampire cafe fifteen minutes early. Though in the end, I’m not sure if that’s actually a good thing, because now I get to sit here and wait awkwardly.

It’s only one thirty in the morning so the vamps are all out enjoying the night and ReSanguinated is no exception, smack bang in the middle of the unofficial “Vampire District” of Osneau.

It shows how completely out of the vamp-loop I am because I only just learnt about the Vamp District last week.

Though it should have been obvious because there is a disproportionately high number of blacked out shop windows and doors around here.

I didn’t even know this cafe was here. I’ve walked past the unassuming, solid black door countless times.

From the dull, grey shop front I never would have known what was inside.

The cafe itself is already quite small, but it’s been divided up with cane room dividers to create tiny booths with couches and small tables squished inside.

Soft jazzy music plays softly over the speakers, the only light coming from lamps shoved into every available space.

What can only be thrifted decor—scarves and exotic ceramic creatures and various tchotchkes—fills what little room remains.

It’s chaotic and weird but is somehow just cohesive enough to work .

It’s a cool place, but it doesn't feel like a “coffee with friends” kind of place, which has my nerves coming back full force when the pretty vamp woman shows me to a table. I read the menu again and again while I wait for Kai, not really seeing the words.

“Hey! Sorry I’m late, parking was a nightmare.”

Looking up, my throat goes dry at the sight of Kai stripping out of his thick coat in the makeshift doorway of our booth.