Page 54 of Caller of Crows

The silence between them stretched, and the longer it lasted, the more nervous Sven grew. What was the vampire thinking? Was he going to punish him for his insolence?

Sven's jaw clenched. Altair had no right to punish Sven for anything after the way he'd been treating him.

"You're angry," Altair observed.

"Stay out of my head," Sven snapped, tearing his gaze away from the vampire. If he broke eye contact, surely Altair would have a harder time reading him.

"I don't have to read your thoughts to know you're not pleased." Altair picked up the pillow and placed it back down on the bed. "People who are happy to see me rarely toss objects at me."

Sven met his gaze, his irritation flaring. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

"You don't think I have more important things to do?"

Sven's teeth ground together. "Things that keep you out of your own bedroom for two nights?"

Altair raised an eyebrow at him. "Missed me?"

Sven's heart did a little flip.

Fuck.

He was losing his mind.

"No," he spat, forcing a glare onto his face.

Altair's dark eyes bore into his, and Sven struggled not to look away. He refused to let Altair know just how much the vampire unsettled him.

"If that's what you wish me to believe…" Altair trailed off, still looking at Sven. "I came to get another blood donation from you."

Sven's heart sank.

Of course.

What else had he expected Altair to come here for?

"That's all I am to you, aren't I? A blood bag."

Altair's expression darkened. "You've known that from the moment you offered yourself to me."

"I thought—" Sven stopped himself.

Whathadhe thought?

That Altair would magically develop feelings for him? That his half-baked plan to make the vampire fall for him would work and they would live happily ever after somehow? Hehadn'tthought that, not honestly, so why did Altair's words make him feel like he'd been punched in the stomach?

"It doesn't matter what I thought. I was wrong, wasn't I?" Sven fell silent, not trusting his voice anymore.

Altair gazed at him, and for a split-second, it felt like the vampire wanted to say something, like he wasn't indifferent, or uncaring, but then the moment was over, and the mask of cool indifference fell back into place.

"I'm here for your blood, nothing else."

Sven lowered his eyes. It was futile, wasn't it, trying to appeal to this man's softer side? Altair was a vampire, through and through.

He might not be like the other vampires who'd tormented Sven's people, and he might be a better man than Keegan claimed, but he was still a monster and he wasn't going to help Sven. "I don't know why I even tried to defend you."

Altair remained silent, his eyes sharpening.

"I know exactly what kind of person you are," Sven muttered. "A monster. A murderer." He lifted his gaze, meeting the vampire's eyes, refusing to shy away from them even though the intensity of the other's gaze was making him shiver. "My blood is the only thing you care about. You don't care that my mother is sick, and you don't care that she might die. You don't care that I'll be all alone. To you, I'm just a bag full of blood, and when I run out, you'll toss me aside, won't you?"