“What?” I asked, letting out a nervous laugh. Doctor Orson leaned forward on his desk so he was closer to me. His hand gently laid on top of mine. It made my entire body feel on fire.
“Have you ever drunk someone else’s blood?” He asked, eyes boring into mine. I shook my head. He was zoning in on my pressure point, the one part of the entire ordeal that felt sensitive and shameful. This conversation was suddenly way more intimate than it had been a moment ago.
How did he know? Who told him? It had to be my aunt. My face flamed and I had to work to control my breathing. God, he really knew.
“Are you very certain you've never drank someone else's blood?”
“I swear,” I whispered, wanting him to believe me. I’d been fighting the urge to taste blood for as long as I could remember and I nearly lost it that day in the car. It was fortunate I wasn’t very strong or I’d have killed that guy and finally succumbed to the freakish desire.
It was a strange, shameful kink. Not something fun and quirky like handcuffs. It was fucked up and disgusting is what it was. I’d tried to bury it until the want overflowed and I had found myself holding a knife at someone’s throat, frantic to get a taste of ruby red gore.
“It’s okay, Bree,” he said and I looked into his eyes. It genuinely felt like he wasn’t judging me as I shook in his office chair, peeled open and exposed.
“Can you make a promise to me?” Doctor Orson asked, leaning forward further. I found myself leaning towards him aswell, my body pressing into the desk to eat as many inches as possible.
“A promise?”
“Never drink someone’s blood.” His words sunk into my mind.
“Fuck you, I wouldn’t.” I snatched my hand back, feeling too ashamed to keep talking about this. My eyes found the colorful glass collection and I kept my attention there, following the finely crafted swirling lines. They looked like antiques from another country.
He knew too much already. Why was I spilling my guts? Because he was so hot I was forgetting who I was. It wasn’t just that though. It was because this fucker was flirting with me. He was manipulating my attraction to get what he wanted. It had to be that but… I didn’t mind.
“That’sverygood, Bree,” he purred, leaning back in his chair. Pretty sure I forgot how to breathe. My eyes were wide as I stared at him, hearing the words “very good, Bree” echo in my head. I wanted praise from this man more than I wanted my next breath.
His eyes flicked to the wall above my head and his smile dried up.
“Time’s up,” he announced, shoveling all the papers on his desk into a deep drawer in one sweep. He slammed it shut, locked it, and then looked at me as if confused as to why I was still sitting there and hadn't raced out the moment he spoke.
The weird thing was, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to have him manipulate a few more honest confessions out of me. It was embarrassing but made me feel a little better, to be honest. How could someone be this good? Understanding, non judgemental, hot…
“That didn’t seem very long…”
“Then don’t be late next time,” he responded smoothly with a charming smile.
“I didn’t even tell you about—” my words stopped when Doctor Orson stood up then walked to the door. He opened it before calling for the receptionist.
“Katie will show you out,” he told me as if he was doing me a favor. A moment later the receptionist was grabbing and shooing me like a wild seagull that found its way inside after scenting a french fry.
“Same time next week,” Doctor Orson called out chipperly, not even bothering to watch as his receptionist dragged me from the offices. Oh, fuck this guy. Fake ass motherfucker, flirting with people to get them to talk.
I hated him. I planned to march home and tell everyone who would listen that this guy was a fucking sicko. Of course, I’d sound deranged saying it was because hesmiledat me. Ugh.
The receptionist deposited me in the building hallway and closed the door in my face. I heard the deadbolt snap. Fuck her too! I'd find out where she lived and send her pictures of herself from outside the window. Let's see how confident she was then. She'd be too busy looking over her shoulder to sweep me into the corridor.
I stomped all the way back to my car and slammed it shut once I was inside.
My phone dinged and I ripped it from my pocket expecting to see a text from my job. Instead, it was an unknown number.
“Text me if you feel like drinking blood again.”
I eyed the number then pulled out the business card Doctor Orson gave me. It was the same one he’d hand written on the back. I bit my lip to keep a stupid grin from blooming on my face. Then I searched his phone number online to see what sort of information I could get.
My eyes tipped up to the single light shining on the second floor. I can’t wait for us to get to know each other, Doctor Orson.
Chapter
Two
