Since drinking has become a part of my life, I’ve learned to embrace it. It’s just a part of who I am now. And I’ve discovered that I havepreferences. I like to drink from Ryet’s upper thigh. And trust me when I say this, there isn’t a woman alive who can turn him on the way I do.
He’s naked—we both are. There’s no point in putting on pajamas when we spend just as much of our time at night feeding as we do sleeping. At the end of each day we get in bed and drink each other, then we sleep off the blood lust only to wake up a couple of hours later to do it all again. We do this on repeat all night long. If Ryet and I are physically together, the lust is always there. As is the hunger. It all has to be satisfied in some way.
To an outsider, this might sound exhausting, but to me? It’s everything. The drink, the pull, the lust, the bliss—it’s even better than reading a Guild book.
Though I hope it never comes to this, I would give up the books to feed and be fed on by the man in bed with me right now.
I’m addicted tohim, not just his blood.
My hand is still wrapped around his hard shaft when I glide my lips up his inner thigh until I hear it. The pulsing of the blood. The call to drink. He lets out a moan and then his fingertips are sliding through my hair. A moment later he’s gripping my head, pushing down on it as my mouth opens and my teeth nip at his skin.
Since I don’t have fangs, this is how I open him up to drink. Tiny pinprick nips, but just at first. As soon as I get the blood flowing, I bite harder. I can’t get to his artery, but that much blood at once is too much anyway, so I don’t feel disappointed that I never quite get a gush from him the way he does from me.
“That’s it,” Ryet says, just as I get a small flow going. His hips start moving, his back arching. “Keep going.”
I take the blood, pulling as much as I can out at once—not just for my benefit, though I do love the taste and how I can feel his blood as it makes its way through my body. I do it for him because I know how good it feels. I want him to feel the way I do when I’m being fed on.
He never will, of course. Not unless I grow fangs or cut him open with a knife or something. So when I feed I give him sexual favors as well. That’s what my hand is doing as I drink. Sliding up and down his shaft in long, slow strokes.
I take one last long pull of blood, biting his thigh as I do it, and Ryet comes, spilling his seed all over my hand as his back arches up and he gnashes his teeth together, growling like an animal until the intensity of the orgasm subsides. Then he is spent and living in the bliss.
I’m still there as well so I rest my head on his thigh as he absently strokes my hair, and then… once again, we fall asleep. Drunk on blood and sex.
It takes a lot of effort to get up in the mornings. I mean, Ryet and I, we’re always hungry. We can always use another drink and who doesn’t want another orgasm?
But we both have roles to play here. I am learning how to navigate the books. Just simple ones still. Nothing magical yet. But I’m getting better at immersion. I won’t be stuck at level one forever.
One day soon,I think,I will get what I came for. Knowledge.
This, and only this, is what drives me to get up the next time I wake.
It’s eight-thirty in the morning, which is a little bit later than I usually wake up, but the Guild is very understanding about our needs. I am not expected to be at the library until nine-thirty and Ryet doesn’t have to report to the lab until ten.
I always wake up before him. He just needs more sleep than I do. And this time I don’t wake him, or wait for him to wake, either. I can’t. If I do, we’ll never get out of here because I’ll just want to drink again.
It’s an endless cycle and if we allow it, the blood lust would take over our lives.
Which sounds fun. But… at what cost?
I don’t want to be a feeder, lying in bed in my old age covered in filth. Though I don’t really think that will be my destiny—I don’t really know if I can age, let alone die. But still, that image of my grandma dying in that disgusting room that smelled like death—it’s very strong. It’s burned into my memory.
I will not turn into her. I won’t.
That’s why I get up in the mornings and report to the library. That’s why I leave Ryet in bed. And even though, in the back of my mind, I’m always thinking about the next time we’ll be together and the next time we feed on each other, I can control it if I don’t see him during the day.
When we first got here about eight weeks ago, we did meet up for lunch. I think we were both still… actualizing? That’s as good a word as any to describe the transformation going on inside our bodies. So our blood lust, while very strong at night, wasn’t an issue midday.
Until it was.
After a few weeks of settling in, Ryet and I found ourselves sneaking away after eating. The bushes, a bathroom, anywhere we could find a little privacy. All so we could feed. And then we would get tired, and pass out, and wake up, and do it again and… well, let’s just say it was not a productive way to spend one’s day.
We got sloppy and the Guild took notice. We were ‘encouraged’ to go our separate ways during the day. Not ordered. Not exactly. And what could they have done if we refused? Kicked us out? They need us more than we need them. But, since we’re guests here, we took their advice seriously.
No more blood at lunch.
I do love my blood, but I don’t miss it much during the day because when I get to the library, I go right into the level one reading room and from the moment I enter until the moment I leave, I live in the stories.
Stories that aren’t as interesting and addictive as my real life, but even the simple ones I’ve been learning to read the past few weeks are definitely good enough to keep the blood lust at bay.
