Page 108 of Vampire so Virtuous

“Just a veneer of self-justification layered over a morally indefensible argument.”

He looked at her in surprise, then shrugged, resigned. “Perhaps.”

She watched him, trying to reconcile the pain in the hunch of his shoulders and his haunted expression with the smug exoticism he often projected. Sometimes it was like he was two different people. “It’s not even true. You fed on me more than once.”

He shook his head, as if she didn’t understand. “There’s something different about you. Your blood is the most potent, powerful and delicious blood I’ve ever had.”

“Lucky me,” she said bitterly.

“Mmm. Lucky me too,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t choose this, and that makes two of us. I’m stuck with being a vampire, and I guess you’re stuck with me.”

“It’s a cute line, Antoine, but it’s bullshit. It’s not the eighteenth century anymore. We have blood banks.”

“Dead blood,” he replied flatly, his lip curling in distaste. “If we don’t drink from the source, it’s like eating rotten food.”

“Does it have to be human blood? What about cows or pigs?”

“Yes, and you could just as easily live on rats and slugs. Why don’t you?”

She huffed in exasperation. “You have money. Science could probably explore whatever you need for food, and—”

“Extract it?” he finished for her, the words sharp. “Chattel feeding me like it’s pet food?” His eyes flashed, a red tinge fleetingly appearing through the pale blue. “You think I have no pride?”

Cally’s laugh was sharp, almost cruel. “Pride? You’re seriously talking about pride? You’re a fucking parasite, Antoine, a predator with a nice little rationalization for your own selfishness. And you’re worried about pride?”

She took a step toward him, words tight with contempt. “Let’s not pretend you’re above it. You justify your actions with whatever excuse fits, but the truth is, you’re scared to face what you are. A monster feeding off people because you can’t stop—no, because youwon’t.”

“You’re damn right,” he said coldly. “Of course I won’t stop. You called me a monster, wouldn’t you be disappointed if I did?” He scoffed, but thatflicker of hurt reappeared in his eyes—until he turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I won’t apologize for existing. I don’t even kill. I take because I have to—and yes, because I can.” When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I don’t need your moral high ground. I don’t need your pity. You’re stillalive,aren’t you? That’s all that matters.”

“And what if I say no? What if I don’t want to play anymore?”

“I’d have to feed off others, instead. But the mark won’t ever fade.” He paused. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’d think about it?” she echoed, surprised he’d even consider such a thing.

“Marking you means you’ll always have enough blood for me, but perhaps it would be better if I went back to feeding off others, off those who never knew I had.”

She stared at him, then laughed, a humorless sound. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Don’t know what?”

“I had nightmares fordaysafter you fed from me the first time—almost too scared to leave my apartment. You think you’re not affecting these people, but you are.”

He shook his head in denial. “No. IknowI’m not. You forget, I’ve been doing this for decades. Centuries.” The last word was almost a whisper. He frowned as he looked at her. “You’re different, Cally. The way the mark is on you, the nightmares—hell, even the taste of your blood. There’s something about you.”

She turned away and paced across the room, hugging herself. She stopped before the window, looking out over his beautiful garden, bathed in the soft light of the house, the rest hidden in shadows.

“If I don’t let you feed on me, you’ll feed on others,” she said at last.

“They’d never know.”

“You say they’d never know. And maybe you’re right.”Does that make it any better?It didn’t matter. She turned to face him. “ButIwould know. Just like I’d know it wouldn’t have been necessary if I’d only agreed.”

He turned and picked up the letter from the table, his back to her. “Well, it’s your decision.”

“Oh, thanks,” she said sarcastically. “Decide between being your snack-on-legs or living with the knowledge I sent you out to feed on others. Some choice.”

He still didn’t face her, but his head turned slightly to one side. “Are you suggesting it’s for the benefit of random strangers, and not for me?”