Page 48 of Taste of Blood

Asher’s shower is like a car wash, with heads all over the place and steaming hot water. I might have stayed a little longer than I planned. It’s with supreme regret that I finally emerge and dry off, wrapping myself in the oversized fluffy robe. I could get used to this.

I arrest that thought as soon as I think it.

This is only temporary.

Asher is lounging on one of the couches when I enter the livingroom, sipping a glass of amber liquid that I’m sure is McCallan. It’s his drink of choice, when he isn’t joining me in a vodka.

Speaking of vodka, there’s another glass on the coffee table. I glance behind him at the island and spot the bottle of Belvedere. Asher does like his top shelf liquor.

I plop down on the opposite couch and pick up the glass, savoring the warmth as it slides down my throat.

“Better?” he asks.

“A little.”

The elevator door dings and Asher stands up. “You’re about to feel much better.”

The two young men who enter the apartment are dressed to kill. No one would ever suspect what they’re here for. They sure don’t look like any donors I’ve ever dealt with, but then, mostof my interactions with donors have come from Dante’s blood dens, which are basically vampire brothels.

One of the men starts to undress and Asher stops him, an edge to his voice when he says, “Just feeding tonight.”

I smirk.Feeling a little possessive, Ash?

Part of me wants to fuck with him and take what’s offered, but I don’t have the energy for that scene. Besides, I’m still recovering from the edging Ash put me through earlier. Maybe if I wasn’t so tired…

“Are you sure?” the man asks.

“Yes,” Asher replies. “Take good care of him.”

Before I can sit up, the man lowers himself to his knees in front of me. Asher produces a scalpel and hands it to me and I sit forward to make the cut.

Drinking blood is a necessity to a vampire, making it our version of a meal. If that’s the case, I’ve been living on ramen and what’s being offered to me right now is the equivalent of a porterhouse.

From the first scent of the donor’s blood, I can feel my hunger roar to life. The man’s neck is suddenly the center of the universe. Everything else fades into the background, including Asher and whatever he’s doing with the other man.

I press my lips to the cut and take a second to savor the taste. Rich, luscious blood. No tinge of drugs or disease. It’s as close to perfection as it can get.

Is this how Asher feeds every day? No wonder he has the energy to fuck with me.

My first instinct is to gorge myself, but even in my undernourished state, I know that’s not permissible. Damaging any sanctioned donor is cause for punishment. I’m sure the penalty for overindulging in one of these is far worse. Knowing Asher, these men come from the White Guild den, the cream of the crop.

Five star dining.

I drink my fill, mourning the loss when I finally pull away.

“I didn’t hurt you?” I ask him, trying not to sound like a newb.

He smiles at me and dabs at his neck with a handkerchief he pulls out of his pocket. Who carries a handkerchief these days? “You did just fine.”

He rummages in his bag for a protein bar, unwrapping it and taking a big bite while he waits for Asher to finish up with his partner. I slump back on the couch, sated and content. It’s the best I’ve felt in weeks.

Asher tips the two men as he shows them to the elevator. When he comes back to the livingroom, he looks at me with an unreadable expression.

“What?” I ask.

“Let’s get you to bed.” When I start to protest, he adds, “To sleep.”

Asher’s king-size bed is like a cloud. I sink into it and immediately feel myself being dragged under. I’m vaguely aware of Asher gathering my clothes, then everything goes dark.