He peered over at me. “Beautiful and deadly. Can’t get too close or she’ll latch on and sting you to death.”
“Keep that in mind if you’re going to lie next to me,” I said playfully.
I turned on my side to face him. Shadows leaped across the walls like dancers in a ballet. Christian’s room had a different smell than mine. Musky and familiar—a space that had been lived in for a while.
“Have you ever tasted a Vampire other than your maker?” he asked.
I stared daggers at him. “I’m warning you.”
Christian rolled onto his side. “I’m serious.”
“No. And that’s not an invitation to ask me.”
“I’m only thinking that if you’ve never tasted Vampire blood, then you don’t know how it affects you.”
“And I suppose you want to be the sacrificial lamb?”
“Feck, no. I don’t give my blood freely to just anyone. But you won’t know the extent of your strengths and weaknesses unless you test everything.”
“I don’t have any desire to be turned into a marionette. I’ve heard rumors about the influence it can have.”
“Vampire blood is powerful, to be sure. But it’s not what you think, and everyone’s affected differently by it. It’s a sacred act that’s revered because of the power and pleasure within the blood. The blood is dark and sweet, like nothing you’ve ever tasted. When your maker feeds you his blood, you’re not yet a full Vampire, so you can’t appreciate the complexities.”
“It’s not fine wine. I’m sure it tastes like everyone else’s.”
He snorted and placed his head in his hand. “It’s not nearly the same, lass. Not by a mile. Maybe Viktor can get a sample of blood off the black market,” he said absently.
“Don’t bother adding that one to the grocery list.”
His dark brows drew together. “You really don’t have any cravings for blood, even after drinking so much of it?”
“No, and I’ve tasted more than I care to. It doesn’t heal me, it doesn’t excite me, and it sure as hell doesn’t taste like a margarita.”
“Does it taste like a Bloody Mary?”
I brushed a strand of hair away from my face, stealing a glimpse of his bottomless eyes. They reminded me of a line in a poem that went:And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming.
I shivered and looked away. “Blood does nothing for me.”
“It’s a shame you can’t enjoy the full-bodied taste, but I can’t complain, because your lack of taste will come in handy. Blood is what makes even the best Vampires weak with want, so at least you have that going for you. Can you glean information from it?”
I turned away, showing him my back. “You’re nosy.”
The bed didn’t move, but somehow Christian had eased up behind me, his words nothing but dark whispers in my ear. “Know thyself. You’ll never learn who you are by watching others or reading about it in a textbook. You’ll never know what you’re capable of by avoiding what you fear. Who are you, Raven Black?”
When I rolled over, Christian was gone.
Chapter 11
The next morning, I slipped out of Christian’s bedroom and took a quick shower before collecting my things. I had a feeling this might be my last day, so I wanted to leave on my terms. The halls with windows were humid and smelled of rain, so I put on my lace-up boots, which were good for treading water.
Keystone had become a temporary reprieve, and I was going to miss its winding halls, grand staircases, majestic rooms, and sumptuous views. It had offered me protection, where I didn’t have to sleep with one eye closed, and the quiet rooms allowed me space to gather my thoughts.
When I reached the lower level, energetic conversation filled the dining room down the hall, but I continued moving toward the front door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Wyatt yanked the green duffel bag out of my hands from behind.
I whirled around. “Wyatt, give me the bag.”
