Page 64 of Taste of Blood

I pat her on the arm. “You’re not alone in that opinion.”

Benoit, my donor for tonight, provides a pleasant distraction from Bethany’s presence. I’ve used him before, and we share a few moments of conversation before and after. He’d heard about the Code 3 at my apartment and inquires if everything turned out all right. I assure him we’re tougher than we look and that all is well tonight, though talking about Cord’s injuries brings him back to my mind.

After I finish feeding, I wander down to the club and find a seat at the bar. At least Lupercalia stocks McCallan, so I order one and turn around to observe the club’s patrons. The dance floor is about half full and most of the tables around it are occupied. The shadowy booths beyond offer more privacy for couples with an urge to satisfy or a shady deal to complete. I’ve conducted both in those booths, recalling with fondness a night several years ago when Cord and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

“Must be a pleasant memory.”

I look up at the man who’s joined me on the adjacent seat. This must be the night for people invading my privacy, though to be realistic, if I didn’t want that I should have stayed at home.

I look at him. He’s tall, darkly handsome, and well-dressed.

He’s also human.

With the exception of donors and my employees, I don’t do human. I don’t care for mixing my food with pleasure. Maybe that makes me a snob, but why temp fate? Besides, I already got my blood fix for the night.

I’d say about half the humans who come into the club have at least a healthy suspicion about us. There’s a whole subculture of them who entertain a kink of being fed upon. It helps thatthere are a lot of vamps who prefer obtaining their blood in the wild, so to speak, rather than go to blood dens, so they find a convenient place to hook up here. And while Lupercalia doesn’t specifically encourage it, they don’t do anything to discourage it either. Which seems like a poor financial model, when you consider they’re in the business of providing donors.

But the other reason why I’m not interested in whatever this man is selling is because my mind is already occupied with another.

I try to convey that with my eyes, but this guy is either oblivious or desperate. He leans over closer to me and offers a blinding smile.

“Name’s Sam.”

I stare at him for a minute, then sigh. “Sorry. Not interested.”

His smile fades for a second then he regroups. “Are you sure? Because, I’m clean.”

“Look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but I just want to sit here and enjoy my drink. No conversation, no hookups, no whatever else you think is going to happen here.”

“Why did you come in here if you’re not interested in hooking up?” he asks, his tone suggesting he’s obviously taken offense.

“That’s really none of your business, now is it?”

For Christ’s sake. First Bethany, now this guy. Maybe ordering in would have been the better option.

His face darkens and he looks as if he’s actually going to challenge me, which would be a mistake. Granted, I’m not Cord, but I can handle myself and I have a decided advantage over this guy. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, so maybe that’s what’s making him so reckless, but if he’s spent any time in this club, he has to know the consequences of overstepping his bounds in a room full of vamps.

Fortunately the bartender picks that time to wander by, probably reading the situation. I know he’s a vamp and that management doesn’t tolerate trouble of any kind. It’s a sure way to get yourself banned from the whole club, whether you’re human or Clan.

“Everything okay here?” he asks, his gaze fixed pointedly on Sam.

The man looks between us and shakes his head. “This place is too expensive anyway.”

He gets up and stalks off, heading for the exit.

“Sorry about that,” the bartender says. “We get his kind in here a lot lately. They’ve heard rumors and decide they want to see for themselves.”

“Doesn’t the Guild have anything to say about that?”

He shrugs. “When they started letting humans in, it opened up a whole can of worms. Some of them feel like they have power over us. Like we need them.”

I scoff. “There’s literally a blood den upstairs.”

“I know, right?” He shakes his head. “I swear I spend half my time breaking up potential altercations from humans.”

Things have certainly changed since I used to come in here almost nightly to feed. As I recall back then humans were in the minority and only admitted if they were accompanied by a Clan member.

I finish my drink and set the glass on the bar. “You want another one?” the bartender asks.