Page 4 of Taste of Blood

I start to grab for him and pull back, remembering how much he hates being touched. At least, by anyone else. Not sure if that applies to me now. “Wait. Can’t we just talk?”

He faces me and blows out a sigh. “We said everything there is to say a long time ago. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get home.”

“You look good.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m serious. A little hungry, perhaps.”

He slams the door and wheels on me. “What is with everyone saying I look hungry. I know how to feed, for fuck’s sake.”

“Not saying you don’t. It’s just…well, you know bagged doesn’t answer all our needs.”

“What do you want from me, Asher? I thought we agreed not to see each other again.”

“You agreed. I never said any such thing.” I step closer. “In fact, if you recall, I begged you to stay, and I don’t beg anyone.”

“Well, don’t worry. I won’t tell your secret.”

This isn’t going the way I hoped. It has been ten years, and while I thought I was over him, seeing him again is bringing back a rush of feelings I’m not ready to let go of. Despite the things said in anger at our last encounter, I still care about him. Yes, he’s prickly and quick-tempered, but that’s just Cord. And I admit I have faults of my own, which he never tired of pointing out, but I have given his criticism a lot of thought over the years and worked on addressing some changes. Now if I could just convince him to give me a chance.

“Can we just go upstairs and talk? I’ve missed you. You were my best friend.”

Long before the Clan changed our lives forever, we were inseparable. Grew up together in the same group home in the same small town. Thick as thieves, as they say. It was a relationship that developed into more as we grew older, but we always had our friendship.

Cord was the first to be approached by the Clan. They wanted him, attracted by his toughness and fighting skills. He’d jumped at any chance to get away from our living situation, but he refused their offer unless I could come along. I was a shy, skinny kid, more interested in school than physical endeavors. At first I tried to talk Cord out of joining, but once Cord made up his mind, there was no going back, and he saw this as our ticketto the big city, which had always been our dream. Never mind the fact that we would cease to be human. That was a major sticking point for me.

I was hung up on what I would become.

Vampire.

A mythological creature of the night.

But it wasn’t like that at all. True, there was an initiation process, and a transition that involved the exchanging of blood with an elder, but there was no sleeping in coffins, running from crosses, or bursting into flames in the sunlight. Other than enhanced senses and strength, and a need to consume blood every day, not much had really changed. Well, except for the fact that we aged much slower than humans. The truth is, I’m fifty-six years old and still look like I did the day I transitioned at twenty-one. And the aging process seems to slow down further the older we get. I’ve met five hundred year old Clansmen who don’t look a day over thirty.

Our lives took a different turn once we transitioned, though. Cord trained to be a fighter, but my mentor had a different ambition for me. He took advantage of my analytical mind to push me into business, where I excelled. Eventually I branched out on my own and built an empire. Even with the Clan taking their cut of my profits, I was one of their greatest success stories.

Throughout our training and later development, Cord and I remained close. Our relationship developed from friends to lovers, and I believed we would be together forever. Unfortunately, Cord was not only restless, but resentful of my obviously greater success. For my part, I guess I did try to push him to be more assertive in his approach to his career. I just saw more potential in him than he seemed to see in himself. The fact that he continued to work for Dante when I knew he was so much better than that was a constant source of strife between us.In fact, I’d say it was Dante who drove a wedge between us, and for that I can’t forgive the man.

“What possible good can come from talking?” Cord asks me, though I notice he’s turned away from his car. It’s new to him, but I can tell right away it’s his. He was always more attached to things from the past than I was.

“How about we just catch up? I want to know what you’ve been up to lately.”

“Why? So you can criticize me some more?”

“Cord, please. Come upstairs with me. You can leave anytime you want.”

I have to admit I’m a little surprised when he agrees, though he grumbles under his breath on the way into the building.

“Evening, Mr. Winston,” the concierge, Ralph, greets as I sweep past him. I nod in his direction and lead Cord to the smaller elevator reserved just for the penthouse. Once we’re inside, I enter the code, eliciting a snort of derision from Cord.

“Figures.”

I smile at his reflection in the mirrored walls and run a hand back through my short blond hair.

“When did you get the car?” I ask to break the silence.

He shrugs. “Couple of years ago.”