Once Joseph and I were at the kitchen table, I offered him a seat and a glass of blood. A positive of congregating with vampires was that they were no-fuss guests. I didn’t need to worry that the blood wasn’t enough—that maybe I should also offer cheese and crackers, or some variation of sweet baked goods, the way I would with a human.
I poured Joseph a tumbler of runner’s blood, then set it before him. I jumped when he spoke, nearly knocking the glass over.
“Where’s your fiancé?” he asked in his lovely lilt. His tone suggested he really didn’t care. Or that he might even be happy about Robert’s absence.
Damn it. I hadn’t thought to make up a cover story, since I never dreamed the VGO would send a bigwig like Joseph.
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
Could he be messing with me? I thought, paranoid. Mocking me? What if Serena and Robert had been parading around the VGO headquarters and Joseph was merely testing my response? But why would he do something like that—toy with me? Surely a vampire so important would have better things to do with his time.
“Oh, he’s here and there,” I said with a wave of a hand, which sounded nonsensical even to me. Better than an outright lie, though. Changing the subject, I enquired, “So, what’s in there? You look like a secret agent.”
I, of course, had a good idea what was in the small, hard-shelled case Joseph has set on the table. It contained various syringes and tubes that would be used to transport my blood back to the United Kingdom. Thinking about it made me light-headed. Like a lot of people in the world, I had a mild fear of needles.
Smiling, he arched a brow.
Good God he was stunning. Like, ridiculously, inhumanly, dumbfoundingly stunning. I wondered if he’d been that hot when he was mortal, wheneverthathad been. The only thing I knew for certain was that he was over a thousand years old, which I’d learned while I was at the VGO headquarters.
It was funny, I thought, that Joseph and Robert were both alluring vampires, yet entirely different in appearance and personality. Joseph’s dark mane was wild and unruly, while Robert’s conservative jet-black style rarely had a strand out of place. I used to joke that he was immune to bed head. Joseph’s chocolate eyes were warm and frisky; Robert’s steely grey gaze was intense and hypnotizing. Joseph was playful, while Robert reserved his sweetest self for those who were closest to him.
If the two were desserts, Robert would be a compact but ultra-rich chocolate torte in a posh restaurant: served on a gleaming plate with a sprig of mint, a fancy drizzle of raspberry coulis, and a razor-sharp triangle of bitter chocolate poking out the top. Joseph, on the other hand, would be a delectable ice cream sundae, heaped with all sorts of filthy, ooey-gooey toppings: hot fudge, caramel, marshmallow fluff. Both treats were delicious, but in contrasting ways.
Maybe that explained why I was so attracted to Joseph. I was pissed at Robert, his opposite.
No, that was ridiculous. Robert or no Robert, Joseph was plenty mouthwatering on his own.
Joseph opened the case. It was padded with egg crate foam I associated with soundproofing, which then made me think of all the screaming I hoped I wasn’t going to be doing. Stuck in the sponge were several rows of empty test tubes. He didn’t expect to fillallthose, did he?
“I don’t see any syringes,” I said.
Joseph shook his head. “It would take a lot of time to do it that way.”
How else did he think he was going to get blood out of my veins? “You aren’t planning on . . .” I curled my hands into claws and hissed like a Hollywood vampire. “Are you?”
He seemed to find that hilarious. “You think I’m going to, what, fill my mouth with your blood and spit it into a bucket?”
I folded my arms across my chest, pouting over being mocked. I wasn’t truly angry, only . . . Flirting, I realized. Oh my God, I wasflirtingwith a VGO vampire.
I sat up straight and cleared my throat.
After he finished having himself a nice belly laugh, he pulled a clear, rectangle-shaped bag from a pocket in the case. Attached to one end was a long, skinny hose. “If this is all rightby you, I’ll hook this into your arm and then disengage once the bag is full.”
“But you’ll still have to use a needle?”
“Unfortunately, yes. But it’s better than—” he imitated my Hollywood vampire “—isn’t it?”
Gulping, I nodded.That’s a big fucking bag, Joseph,I didn’t say.
“Let’s hope I have blood left once you’re finished,” I joked flatly, trying to sound as if I was totally cool with the situation, like any of it was normal.Tra-la-la, just another day with an ancient vampire extorting my blood.
I watched in silence as he began prepping our makeshift blood draw station. He, much to my relief, moved with confidence, which told me this wasn’t the first time he’d done it. Or, at the very least, that he was skilled with needles. I thanked my lucky stars that vampires didn’t suffer shaky hands.
“Will my blood stay cold in that case? It won’t go bad?” Even if it did, the VGO would be out of luck. I wouldn’t have much blood left for him to harvest.
As if reading my mind, he said, “Not to worry. If your blood spoiled, I wouldn’t ask you to give more.”
It occurred to me that Joseph might, indeed, be reading my mind. Some vampires could, though usually they made it known. I suspected it wasn’t out of politeness, but because vampires like to boast.
