Page 1 of Make Me Bleed (Sanctuary #2)

PROLOGUE

M y date is talking, but all I can focus on is the vein in his neck that I’ll tap after he’s done with his meal.

I have shrimp linguine in front of me. Some of the sauced noodles are twirled on the fork, though the utensil itself is lying along the side of the elegant white plate. I managed to eat two pieces of shrimp before my stomach insisted it didn’t want human food. It wants human blood , and I’ve been stroking the tip of my tongue along one of my fangs as I wordlessly urged Dorian to finish eating his carbonara.

Notturno is an upscale—and vamp-friendly—Italian restaurant in the heart of downtown Clarity. While they serve traditional food for their human customers, the bar stocks blood bags for their supe clientele. I could’ve ordered a glass of Type O-negative with my pasta if I wanted, but knowing that Dorian had already signed up to be my dessert once we were done had me passing on the bagged stuff.

Nothing beats warm blood straight from the vein, and I’ve sampled Dorian before. He’s not my beloved mate—his blood is fragrant and sweet, but nowhere near as irresistible as it would be if he was mine —but he’s a nice human male who enjoys sharing dinner without expecting anything more.

That’s so unusual that I prefer keeping him around as long as possible. Eventually he’ll push… eventually he’ll want more from me than I can give… but, if only tonight, my company seems enough for him.

I wait for him to take a breath, then smile at him.

Dorian’s eyelids go heavy, expression glazing over as his dark brown eyes meet my pale vampire ones.

He sucks in a breath, and I have to swallow an unladylike curse.

Crap. The last thing I want to do is put him under my thrall. I’ve had more than seventy years to learn how to control it, to keep myself from luring hapless human males like a moth to a flame, but when I forget for a second… it happens, and whether I meant to do it or not, that doesn’t make it easier when I have to break their hearts and lose their attention.

I thought Dorian was immune. Over the last two weeks, he’s shown no sign that he wants to pursue anything other than the arrangement we already have. Not like?—

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight, Elise?”

Ah, crap. This is an arrangement . I feed him. We go into the backroom of Notturno and he feeds me. Our conversations consist of him talking about his job as a Clarity firefighter who answers to the Cadre and my position as a data filer down at Homequarters. Dorian is one of the humans in the know; a non-supe who is aware that Clarity is a Fang City. He understands that he’s basically my most recent preferred donor—or he did until just about two seconds ago.

I’d hoped to see him a few more times before I moved on to my next donor. But if Dorian is going to start hitting on me? This might be our last dinner together.

For now, I do what I always do: I pretend not to notice when a male is coming onto me. Tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I give him a bit of a ditzy smile and just say, “That’s so sweet of you.”

Dorian beams.

Looking for a distraction, I pick up my fork. Stabbing a piece of shrimp, then chewing it is pretty easy. As a vamp, I’m used to jabbing away. But my fork is covered in linguine, and I clumsily slurp one of the noodles.

He grins.

Ugh.

Yup. Definitely going to have to cut him off after tonight. I figured I might have to after the last time he let me have some of his blood. Part of the trade-off is that my male donors feel pleasure as I feed. I make sure they know upfront that it’s their responsibility to finish on their own once I’m done. After what happened with the last one, I strictly refuse to sleep with any of my donors again. Dorian was cool with my rules, but you never know.

I’ve been wrong before.

Flashing him one last tight-lipped smile, I look away. Eye contact is important. If he’s not staring at me, any thrall I may or may not have used on him will break, and I take a few seconds to peer around the restaurant.

It’s about a fifty-fifty split tonight. Half vamps, half humans. That makes sense. Notturno is one of the few places in Clarity where we don’t have to hide who we are. Vampires are always welcome, and a human can only enter the restaurant if they’re with a vamp companion or they’ve been gifted a fang.

I’ve never given one of mine away. It’s the highest mark of possession besides a claiming bite between mates, and if I did share a fang with anyone, it would be Bridget. But since my human roommate for the last six months has no idea that she lives in a city run by vampires—and the leader of the Cadre forbids humans knowing the truth unless they need to—there’s no reason why I would have to do that.

No matter who else demanded it of me…

“Elise? Elise .”

My gaze snaps back to Dorian. He’s looking at me expectantly, and I swallow my relief when I see that the adoration from before has faded from his expression. If anything, he looks slightly peeved that I was ignoring him.

“Sorry,” I murmur. “I don’t know where my mind’s been today.”

A slight smirk from my date is his way of telling me he knows exactly where my mind’s been—and as I glance down at his neck again, I can’t say that he’s wrong.

But then he rises from his seat and my gaze follows him as he shoves the chair back.

Dorian nods at me. “Hey, if the waiter comes by, let him know I’m done with the pasta. I will take a tiramisu, though. I know how much you like it when my blood is sweet.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“The restroom. I won’t be gone long.”

Ah. The restroom. As a born vampire, that’s one of those things that I don’t have to do. That I’ve never had to do. Even when I eat human food, I don’t have waste, and if I stop and think about it too much, I simply hand-wave it away as magic .

But Dorian is human, and if he needs to pee before we go in the back, I can wait a few moments more. Especially since he’s right: a spike in his glucose makes his hot blood delicious .

I know I shouldn’t flirt… I know I shouldn’t … but I can’t keep myself from leaning forward in my seat, inadvertently plumping my cleavage as I tell him, “Hurry back.”

Forget the shrimp linguine. I’ll ask the waiter to pack it up for me so I can bring it home for Bridget. It’s been days since I’ve had more than some of the chilled AB-positive we keep in the office fridge. A vampire can go weeks at a time without blood before it affects them, but I was born an only child to a bonded pair of vampires who were also born vamps; obviously, since turned vampires can’t reproduce as they’re technically ‘dead’, while born vamps are a different strain of vampire . I’ll admit that, for the first sixty years of my life, my parents spoiled me. Even after they relocated to Holland after my sixtieth birthday, living in Clarity means that I’m never without blood for long.

So maybe I’m a bougie vamp. I want fresh blood whenever I can get it, and I only hope that the waiter comes by so that I can pass over my plate and order Dorian’s dessert.

And then, as if I summoned him myself, he’s at the table.

I expect him to ask how our meal was. In Notturno, the human waiters know better than to comment on whether their vamp customers actually touch the food they order. He’ll see that I made a small dent and react as though I cleaned my plate before offering me the dessert menu.

But that’s not what the dark-haired human does. Instead, bowing slightly, he places a crystal goblet in front of me.

You’d never mistake the chilled blood in front of me for a glass of red. Everything, from the rusty, tangy scent to the way it fills the cup makes it obvious what it is. No one in the restaurant cares, of course, but I frown anyway.

Because I didn’t order that.

My full glass of water is still sitting near my plate. That’s what I asked for, and I give the waiter a slightly puzzled look. Did Dorian flag him down on the way to the toilet to tell him to bring me a little blood to quell some of my thirst?

His eyes flicker across the restaurant. “From the gentleman at the bar, miss.”

I follow the direction of his stare—and sit straight up in my seat.

Oh, no.

Peter .

How did I miss him before?

As a vamp, my sense of smell isn’t as strong as, say, a shifter’s. I’m fast and I’m strong and I have a sixth sense when someone is approaching my lair, but I can’t pick one scent out of hundreds and know that someone I’m avoiding is right there . Notturno might be my favorite restaurant to go to for my dates, but it’s not my territory. I had no idea that someone was watching me… but there he is.

Peter Hawkes.

Double crap .

It’s been almost two months since the last time I caught him stalking me. A handsome human male with a head of thick, dark hair, a muscular build, and insane dark eyes, I swear I would’ve noticed him lurking at the bar before. I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been watching me on my date.

Knowing Peter, that’s exactly what he’s been doing.

I’m not surprised to find him inside Notturno, either. He knew the secret of who really owns Clarity long before I met him, and during our year-long arrangement—the longest I’ve ever had with one of my donors—I’ve brought him here dozens of times. He’s alone now, though, but considering I know he wears Delilah’s fang under his jacket, that explains how he got in tonight.

His continued obsession with winning me back explains why he’s here…

He has no chance. Up until last summer, I was happy with our arrangement. I thought Peter was, too. But then he pushed me to turn him into a vampire and take him as my mate, and when I told him I needed time to think, he betrayed me by propositioning another vamp in Clarity.

Delilah gave him her fang. She refused to change him, and she wasn’t interested in making a human hers, but she gave him a fang—and that was it for me. She marked him as her possession, and when he looped the gold chain it was on around his neck, Peter was telling the entire Fang City that he belonged to her.

To Delilah James, not Elise van Duren.

It’s been months since I ended things with him. Months . And there he is, intruding on my date, buying me blood.

Our eyes meet.

Peter lifts his glass, toasting me from his side of the restaurant before taking a sip of the amber-colored liquor. He nods when he’s done, gesturing at my goblet.

I’d rather be thirsty than take anything that Peter offers me.

The waiter is hovering near the table. Whether or not he can tell that the goblet just put a damper on my mood, he hasn’t left yet and I’m glad.

I point at my plate. “If you could wrap that up for me, I’d really appreciate it.” For a moment, I think about ordering Dorian’s tiramisu, but I don’t. Instead, I grab my purse, slip one of my cards out of my wallet, and hand it to him. “That’s for the check. I think we’re done now.”

“Of course, miss.”

He hustles away, and I purposely shove the goblet of blood away from me with a shaky hand.

Peter is still watching me. I can sense the heat of his gaze on my skin, hating that he can continue to get to me after all these months. No matter how many times I warn him away, or how often Bridget gets between the two of us, my feisty human friend trying to protect her vampire roommate, Peter won’t get the hint—and I’m getting this close to going to Thorn.

Thorn Wilkins is the leader of the Cadre. He rules Clarity, and if I tell him that I have a human who won’t leave me alone, the best case scenario would be Peter being banished from the Fang City. But since Thorn isn’t known for his merciful nature, odds are better that Jasper will end the problem of my stalker.

Permanently .

I’m a vampire. I feed, but I don’t kill. I drink blood, but I don’t want to see it on my hands. I just… I need Peter to leave me alone.

And if he won’t?

Then I’ll have to be the one to leave.

Dorian still hasn’t returned from the bathroom. Part of me realizes that my assumption that he had to urinate might’ve been a little hasty. The other part is grateful that he’s taking longer because it gives me the chance to do this .

Once the waiter comes back with my leftovers and a copy of the credit slip for me to sign, I tip him handsomely, then grab my container, my purse, and the goblet. Swirling it absently as I maneuver my way over to the bar, I ignore all of the eyes on me as I stop right in front of Peter.

At first, he begged. He pleaded. He swore he’d do anything for a second chance, but after the first time Bridget threatened to involve the cops—and I had to tell him she meant the Cadre—Peter changed. He’s still desperate and determined, but there’s a darker edge to his possessiveness that even I can’t pretend not to notice.

Though I give it a pretty good effort as I set the goblet down on the bar.

He glances at it. “You didn’t touch it, Elise. Huh. I thought you might be thirsty.”

Prick. I wouldn’t be here with Dorian if I wasn’t. But since I’m also a vampire and, like the fae, I can’t lie, I don’t deny how much I’d sip that if it was from anyone other than Peter.

Instead, I tell him softly, “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this from you. You know that, Peter.”

“You won’t let me feed you from the vein. Let me feed my mate another way.”

And there it is. This human male still believes that he can convince me to initiate the blood exchanges, mate him, claim him, and make him my beloved before changing him into an immortal.

Sorry, but no.

I purse my lips. “I’ll only ask you one more time. Please… leave me alone.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t do that. We both know that I can’t.”

He’ll have to.

I back away from the bar and turn just in time to see Dorian heading toward me. He must’ve returned from the bathroom, seen that our table was in the middle of being cleaned up, then noticed I’d moved to the bar.

“Elise?” He frowns. “Everything okay?”

No.

“Dorian.” I force a grin to my lips. “Change of plans. Take me home?”

I’m a vampire. Unlike the humans in Clarity, it’s safe for me to walk around on my own after dark. The Cadre decrees that only humans who agree to be donors are to be fed upon, but we all know that rogues happen. A rogue will take what they want when they want it, and while they’ll be put down as soon as the Cadre discovers what they’ve done, a rogue won’t care.

Vampires can and do feed off of each other. However, we only have blood after we feed. It’s much easier to bite a human who is constantly building the stuff inside of them, so I wouldn’t be targeted. However, I’m not worried about rogues.

I’m worried about Peter and just how close he is to his sanity snapping.

So I’ll take a ride home in Dorian’s car, then barricade myself inside of the Sanguine in the apartment I share with Bridget. And if luck’s on my side, Peter will slink back to Delilah or whatever other vampire he’s feeding these days since the jacket he’s wearing isn’t doing much to hide the fresh bites on his throat…

Dorian looks puzzled for a moment before he shrugs. “Uh, yeah. Sure. If that’s what you want.”

It’s what I want.

Peter scoffs. “I can find you there, too, you know.” His voice is low, but not so low that I can’t pick up on it. “I can find you anywhere.”

He’s right.

I do know.

Crap.

Bridget isn’t home.

She said she would be. Honestly, she should’ve been, especially when the unspoken rules in Clarity make it so that all humans—whether they know they live among vampires or not—don’t go out after dark alone. But Bridget, I’ve discovered, is a reckless human from Queens and, somehow, she thinks that makes her royalty. I’m not complaining. Her outlook on life is refreshing, but I’m worried about my human friend getting caught up in the supernatural world where she could be hurt.

Unlike me, Bridget works from home. She rarely leaves the Sanguine, and if she does, it’s usually with me. I don’t know where she is now, though her text said that she was only a few blocks away when I offered to have Dorian pick her up.

That was an hour ago. And while humans are much slower than supes, even Bridge should be back by now.

A sense of unease prickles at me. It’s been like that since I caught Peter staring at me after he sent the goblet of blood to my table. It got so bad that I sent Dorian home without even a nip of his blood, so now I’m thirsty and worried.

Glancing down at my phone, I look to see if she responded to my last text.

Bridge

Don’t worry about that. I’ve got five blocks left and I’ll be fine.

Enjoy the rest of your date.

Get the remote ready. We’re starting season four tonight.

Just hurry home.

Hey? Where are you? I’m ready but you’re still not here.

I couldn’t care less about our television show. Normally, sitting down with the first friend I’ve made on my own—not a fellow vamp working for the Cadre, or a friend of my parents, but someone who likes me for me—and catching up on whatever we’re binging is the highlight of my day.

Just not when my overactive imagination is imagining what kind of terrible things could befall Bridget in the dark. In the daytime, I wouldn’t be half as concerned. But the dark …

Suddenly, my phone begins to buzz. The phone number that pops up doesn’t say Bridge’s name, though it’s familiar to me. It takes me a second before I realize that it’s one of the countless lines that originates from Homequarters.

I answer with a quick, “Hello? This is Elise van Duren speaking.”

“Elise. This is Gilda.”

Gilda Tyson. She’s a vamp who used to work on the same floor of Homequarters as I do before she got promoted to soldier status by Jasper at the end of last year. That means she goes on patrols with her partner, making sure that Clarity is safe and sound and that we don’t have any rogues or beasts infiltrating our Fang City, while I continue working on the Cadre’s archives.

I’ve never had soldier aspirations. For one, getting my hands messy… not my thing. For another, you have to be at least a century old to be considered. At only seventy-four, I’m considered a young adult to my kind. A mature female, yes, but in human terms, I’m barely in my twenties. A kid.

So why is Gilda calling me after dark?

“Hi, Gilda. Is everything okay?”

“Depends,” is her reply. “We have your witch in custody.”

I blink, positive I heard her wrong. “My what ?”

However, when my former colleague launches into an explanation, I realize that: No. No, I did not hear her wrong.

Because, to my shock, Gilda reveals that Bridget is a witch—a fire witch—and she’s in trouble.

And that’s all I need to hear.