“No,” I say truthfully. I didn’t go to a mixed school with paranormals, so I know very little about their ways of life. “Why don’t you tell me?” I drop my bag on the floor, remove my jacket, and sprawl out on the couch.
His eyes widen, and there’s a sparkle there. It only lasts a second, but I catch it. I fight a smile.
He likes my annoying charm. I will make a note of this for the future.
“A human is turned by having their body completely drained of blood. Then the sire provides a small amount of their own to initiate the change. But a new vampire must feed within the first twenty-four hours of life, or it will not survive. We must drink blood to replenish and maintain the blood we need to keep us alive. Our bodies function the same as when we are human, the only difference is we do not produce blood of our own anymore.”
“So, you’re saying, if you don’t drink blood, eventually you’ll…run out? Does it just evaporate?”
He smirks. “Not quite. It’s more complicated than that. It’s similar to how a body might reject a transplanted organ. We have a few days before our bodies reject the blood and we replace it with new. It’s part of why the stereotypes are so frustrating. We do not enjoy the taste of it—it’s not something we crave—we literally depend on it to survive.”
Suddenly I have a million questions. “If you don’t mind my asking, where do you get yours?”
“I mostly drink from animals.” I’m not sure what I expected, but I hate his answer. I try not to cringe. “Mammals are the closest to humans, genetically speaking, but I do have a donor. She’s provided for me for many years now.”
“What’s a donor?” I ask, elated that there’s another option for him.
“Her name is Brenda, and she does exactly what it sounds like: she donates her blood.”
Brenda; what a bitchy-sounding name.“So you drink from her, what? Once a week?”
“I alternate between her blood and a different animal every four to five days.” He shrugs. “I tend to stretch it more than I should.”
I sit up. “That often? Humans don’t replenish from blood loss that quickly. How is she still alive?”
“We are bonded.” He strokes his chin as he speaks, running his fingers down the length of his throat. “Besides a mate, donors are the only ones who can not be harmed by the amount of blood they provide. It’s a magical connection between a vampire and their donor.”
I hate that he relies on animal blood to get by, but I also don’t wish for him to hurt anyone. “How does one become a donor?”
He eyes me suspiciously. “One drop of my blood connects them to me.” Anticipating my next question, he adds, “And to sever that bond, all they have to do is speak it aloud.”
“Freaky,” I mutter.
His gray eyes scan the length of my body, from my exposed shoulders to the tips of my toes. “Do you wish to continue your lesson on vampire lore, or are you here to fulfill our agreement?”
My stomach flutters. “The second one.” I’m here for a reason, but now that I know more about his way of life, I can’t stop thinking about it. Everything about this man is like an earworm, rotting my brain. “Can I ask you one more thing?”
He actually rolls his eyes. “If you must.”
I choose to ignore his tone. “If you had enough blood from a donor, would you still need to supplement with animal blood?” I clear my throat. “Like, let’s say, for argument sake, you hadtwodonors.”
“The bond doesn’t work like that,” he states. “Vampires may have one donor or one mate. The donors can change, but the latter…it’s forever. A mate’s blood is the only blood that will never have an expiration date. Yet another mysterious power from a magical bond.”
That flutter in my belly has moved to my head. Talk of mates and donors has me flushed again, despite having sobered from the wine. I wiggle my toes in my shoes just to do something with all of this nervous energy.
I know about werewolf mates, thanks to Raegan and Jamie, but I wonder if they are at all similar to vampires. I wasn’t aware vampires could have mates, but I doubt they can mate with anyone but their own kind given how slowly they age.
I still have a lot of questions, but I force my curiosity back and reel in my hormones to the front of my mind. Aidan is still looking at me with those piercing gray eyes of his. He’s yet to put on a shirt. Is it because he knows the inevitability of it coming off? His smooth, pale skin looks buttery soft. He’s got a broad chest and long torso, lithe but muscular, not that different from a swimmer’s body.
The silence between us lingers heavily in the air for several seconds as we drink each other in. I can feel his eyes roaming over my skin, taking in every dip and curve, no doubt remembering the night we shared.
I slowly inch off the couch and move to stand directly in front of him. His eyes follow my every move as I try to appear seductive. He stands up, meeting me toe to toe, and takes a stray lock of my hair that’s fallen from my high bun and curls it around his index finger. He then slips the red bandana I’ve been using as a headband from my hair and tosses it onto the couch. When he pulls out the elastic holding my hair, it falls loose, tumbling across my shoulders.
“I want your hair down,” he notes with a tilt of his head, fingers running through the strands, and I don’t mind one bit.
I want him to command me. As long as we are in this bubble, where our only objective is pleasure, he can tell me to do whatever he wants, and I’ll listen.
Not being the one in control is liberating. I barely know him, but I know I can relax with him at the wheel—something in my very marrow tells me so.
