“But I held my cool and didn’t,” I stated rather proud of myself. “I must be getting better at controlling myself.”
Cillian glanced down at me. “You are and aren’t. Why did you run off in the first place looking upset?”
“Just feeling out of sorts,” I muttered, as he took our coats from the attendant and helped me put mine on before we exited into the cold night.
“Seemed more like you were distressed about the female offering me a bite.”
He’d spotted me? Admit or deny? “Don’t be ridiculous. You can eat whomever you like.” The statement tasted sour.
“You’re right, I can, but in this case, had you stayed a bit longer, you would have seen me refusing.”
“Why? She obviously offered, meaning her blood was fair game.”
“But not the least bit appetizing. I find no pleasure in taking from sheep. Might as well drink it from a bag.”
“Don’t you prefer your food fresh?”
Cillian rolled his shoulders. “Yes, but at the same time, eating from the living can have its challenges.”
“Such as?”
“Some humans don’t handle the draining of blood well and get faint or anemic, causing a medical emergency that garners attention. There are donors who get addicted to the bite and become clingy and demanding, which is annoying, with the added risk that a refusal to feed on them could result in them revealing our secret. Then there’s those who want us to partake but then decide afterwards they were coerced and-or regret the offer.” He listed off reasons, then shrugged. “Therefore, you see, sometimes a live feed is not worth the bother, and nutritionally, there’s no actual difference.”
I pursed my lips. “That doesn’t seem right. Surely eating it from the source is healthier.”
“The tests show that so long as the blood is properly collected and stored it’s the same.”
“So does that mean you never eat from a vein?”
“Not never, I just prefer to do so on my terms. The offerings at a party like this”—he waved at the building behind us—“are partaken of by many, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to share my food.”
That I could understand.
The car pulled up and Gwen popped out to open the door for us. Cillian tucked me in first before joining me in the back.
Seeing how I had him all to myself, and wasn’t a nervous wreck like on the drive over, I peppered him with small talk about my evening.
“I met a satyr,” I stated.
“Dirty pervs,” he replied. “And they taste terrible. I would not recommend.”
“Good to know. I also met a blond guy with dark wings but I’m not sure what he was.”
“Dark fairy. Tastes delicious but should never be trusted. That goes for the satyr as well. I will say I am impressed you managed to resist their seductive charm.”
My nose wrinkled. “Not my type. Even if they were, the moment they heard your name, they ran off like I had the plague.”
Cillian’s lips curved into a smug smile. “Nice to know my reputation remains intact.”
“Reputation for what?”
“Ruthlessness. Power struggles are the number one cause of death to vampires, other than humans with pitchforks and torches,” he said with a wink. “To ensure I am not constantly being challenged, I tend to preemptively eliminate potential threats.”
I shivered. I should have been appalled at his admission he killed to keep his position, but new me found his words arousing. Excuse me for being attracted to a true alpha male.
The car jerked and Cillian leaned forward. “Is there a problem?”
“Slick roads, boss,” Gwen replied, craning to reply. “Ice rain starting to come down.”
