Page 2 of Caller of Crows

Altair circled him, the motion predatory enough to set Sven's nerves alight with danger. The vampire chuckled. "Your heartbeat gives you away."

Sven narrowed his eyes at the vampire. "Don't toy with me."

Altair stopped and smiled. "You go out into the city at night to seek out a powerful vampire and make demands of him? I don't know if you've got balls of steel or if you're just plain foolish."

Sven took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "I know your numbers are dwindling, vampire."

The vampire eyed him critically but did not speak, waiting instead for Sven to go on, which Sven did. At least Altair was hearing him out instead of killing him on the spot. That was something, right?

"You can't turn shifters, or mages, or fae folk," Sven said. "Your species is dying out."

"That's hardly a secret."

"You could turn me." Sven looked the vampire dead in the eyes.

Surprise flickered across the vampire's pale features. He stepped closer to Sven, who couldn't help but admire the way the moonlight accentuated the predator's cheekbones. "You're applying for a spot in my coven?"

The crow on Altair's shoulder cawed once more as if it was mocking Sven.

Before Sven could do or say anything, Altair moved in even closer, until his cold breath fell against Sven's neck and sent thrills of excitement down Sven's spine. "You don't want to be a vampire, little mortal. Run home before the smell of your blood makes me do something stupid," he warned, voice pitched low enough to make Sven's heart race.

"You can have my blood," Sven made himself say, trying his hardest not to move away from the vampire. "As much of it as you want if you'll make me one of yours in return."

Sven's breath caught at the graze of sharp teeth against his skin.

This was it. The moment Altair would bite him.

He braced himself for the pain, but it never came.

Altair pulled back with a dark glint in his eyes that spoke of the hunger he suppressed, though why he suppressed it, Sven did not know.

The vampire shook his head, the corners of his lips twisting into a sardonic grin. "As good as you smell, as good as I'm sure you taste, mortals are more trouble than they're worth in this city."

As Altair finished speaking, the birds around him squawked in agreement.

With a sigh, Altair began to withdraw from Sven, and panic gripped Sven's heart. If he didn't do something now, the vampire would vanish into the night, taking with him Sven's only chance to become immortal.

"Wait," Sven blurted out, desperation giving his voice an edge. "You really don't want my blood?"

Altair paused, his piercing gaze locked onto Sven once again. "You don't get to be as old as I am without learning how to resist temptation," he said, his voice cold and detached. "I suggest you hurry home. The same can't be said of every vampire in my coven."

Sven's hand tightened around his knife again. With a quick motion, before he could let himself think too much, he pulled it out of his pocket and unsheathed it.

Altair's eyes flashed as Sven procured a weapon, but Sven didn't mean to use it on the vampire; he slashed it across his own palm instead.

The smell of his blood filled the air, warm and coppery.

Sven smirked.

Let's see Altair resistthat!

"Damn you," Altair hissed, his eyes darkening as he inhaled the scent of fresh mortal blood. Despite himself, the vampire was drawn closer, his nostrils flaring as he fought against his baser instincts.

"Take it," Sven whispered, unable to keep his voice from shaking entirely. "My blood for your gift."

Sven watched the vampire's expression flicker with an inner storm, the battle between desire and restraint raging within him. The space between them seemed to stretch on forever, each second ticking by like an eternity.

"Foolish mortal," Altair finally murmured, his voice strained, before pulling away from Sven again. But Sven was in too deep to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He reached out, grasping the vampire's arm with a determination born of desperation. His blood-slicked hand left a crimson trail on Altair's skin as he smeared it across those perfect, pale lips.