He’smortal.I’mvampire yet I’m behaving like a nervous lamb. My head is all muddled. All I can focus on is his scent. I tip forward until my nose presses against his chest. I inhale long and deep.
A part of me is aware that I have my face pressed into the naked chest of a stranger and I have a nagging sense I ought to remember something, but my thoughts are half-formed and flit away like startled sparrows. The blood rush, the absinthe-induced euphoria, the rhythm of the music, the mortal’s beating heart and his delectable scent, all swirl into a single, potent cocktail.
A thrill shimmies through my body. ‘I wanna daaaaance!’ I say. Someone laughs – was it me?
Smears of flesh-coloured movement surround me. If I stay very still and focus hard, I catch glimpses of coupled bodies – curves and planes and glistening skin, tensed fingers pressed into soft flesh, faces surfacing from a sea of limbs, shifting expressions of pain, ecstasy, surrender. More laughter. I touch my mouth. Closed. Tickled that it wasn’t me, I giggle, my breath warm against my hand, the sound high-pitched and strange.
The rapture of the music and that caramel-like scent of sangue touches my waist, squeezes my fingers. Golden eyes float in the air. I met someone with eyes like that. Oscar? Orlando?
The room spins and the floor tips but my feet don’t stop dancing. Someone’s bare chest supports my face. I inhale deeply, delighted at the deep caramel scent. A shrill giggle interrupts my inhale. I’m about to tell whoever that is to rethink their giggle because they sound demented but I can’t seem to make my mouth work or move my head but it’s okay because my faceis clearly pressed into a huge caramel. I sneakily take a lick and grimace. Salty.
I spin away from the caramel. Faces streak past me. I see Ah Lang bent over his double bass, eyes shut, lips pursed, plucking at the strings. I try to wave but I’m pulled away and once again enveloped by the sweet caramel sangue.
Marianne whispers in my ear from somewhere, I’m not sure where. ‘Try tasting him.’
I shrug, wondering why in Tian I was ever shy about feeding. Bleary-eyed, I squint up at Mr Caramel. Smooth chest, if a little salty, excellent smell, and a sexy smile. I give him ten out of ten. Plus a bonus point for nice teeth.
Without any preamble, I sink my teeth into flesh. I barely register his gasp as blood flows warm and thick over my tongue. He really does taste like a salted caramel, but singed and smoky. It’s so good.
‘Jing, enough now.’ Marianne’s voice, coupled with the sharp pain of someone twisting my ear, cuts through the haze.
A softpopas I disengage my fangs and look up.
The mortal – Olivier – smiles down at me, a faint flush to his cheeks. I blink at his chest – blood oozes from two puncture wounds just above his heart.
A startled laugh escapes me. ‘I did it,’ I whisper. ‘I fed from a mortal for the first time ever!’
There’s a crash of glass behind me. Through a gap in the crush of bodies is Tony, staring at me, the remnants of his drink in glittering shards at his feet. Before I can say anything, he spins on his heel and stalks away.
My stomach drops. I finally fed, without shame. How could he judge me?
Gigi appears from nowhere, grabs my wrist and drags me from the dancing crowd of naked, sweaty bodies, across the room to a darkened corner.
‘What were you thinking?’ Gigi hisses.
I try to break her grip, but she won’t let go. I twist away, glimpsing Marianne with Tony, speaking softly and urgently. I can tell by the set of his shoulders that he’s furious and that stokes my own rage. How dare he?
‘Jing, I’m talking to you.’ Gigi’s mouth twists in disgust. ‘What in Tian were you thinking?’
‘I was practising. They’re teaching me how to feed—’
‘Yes, I can see that,’ she snaps. ‘Do you never stop and consider your actions? Was here really the best place?’
‘Can’t you be happy for me? That was hard. It was my first time.’
She claps her hands, slowly, mockingly. ‘Better?’
‘What is wrong with you?’ I hiss.
‘I think the question is what is wrong withyou? Have you no feelings at all?’
‘They’re here willingly!’
Gigi glares at me, like I’m no longer speaking Mandarin but some form of gobbledygook. ‘You really are that clueless.Tian.’
I turn to leave, but she grabs my wrist again and spins me back to face her, none too gently. ‘I don’t care what you eat. None of us care what you eat. But I care that you didn’t warn us. You could have given us a heads-up, so we’d know what to expect.’
What?‘Why would I warn you? If you don’t care, then why would you need a heads-up?’
