I nodded. “To my kind, the olfactory is perhaps the most attuned of the senses. My sense of smell in my bloodborn body was keen, and Lior would concoct aromas that pleased me.”
“What’s your favorite smell?” you asked.
I pretended to consider it, then leaned over and lifted your arm, burying my nose in your armpit. You laughed and squirmed away.
“Henri, I’m serious.”
We were alone on the beach, with the nearest patrons a good distance away. I crawled over to you and nuzzled my nose against the stretchy fabric of your bathing suit. The material had grown quite thin from use, which only revealed more of your shape to me. I could probably ask Xavier to purchase you a new one, but I’d take advantage of this indulgence for as long as I could.
“Mmmm,” you moaned as I licked the fabric. “That feels nice.”
Your questions that day must have been sufficiently answered, for soon after we escaped to Xavier’s condo. You stood on the balcony with the wind whipping your curls while I fellated you from on my knees.
But a couple days later, while we were dining at one of our favorite restaurants, you brought up the subject of my appetite.
“Did you… um.” You licked your lips and stared at your glass of wine. Thanks to your fake ID, we could partake in alcoholic libations when we dined out.
“Did I what?” I set down my knife and fork to give you my full attention.
“Did you feed on him?” you asked, then dropped your gaze as if ashamed. “Lior?”
“Not very often. It was more dangerous then with the risk of infection. And in my bloodborn body, I required much more sustenance. More than a single human could provide and still survive.”
I knew this was only the beginning of your questions on the matter. Of all aspects of my existence, this was the subject that seemed to interest you the most. I took another bite of my steak and waited.
“So, you ate human food and drank blood?” you asked.
The truth of the matter was that in my former body, I’d rather have had a human steak than my present dish of the bovine variety, but even then, I knew how to feed in a sustainable fashion. Somehow, I didn’t think admitting to cannibalism would appeal to you.
“Yes,” I said. “From a young age I required human blood for sustenance. I started feeding at my mother’s breast, quite literally. Infants of my kind grow their milk teeth early.” Sharp ones, like kittens, necessary for piercing the flesh.
You pondered that. Your steak was getting cold. Perhaps you’d lost your appetite.
“And when you were sent to Rome… how did you feed?”
That was a bit of history that didn’t age well. Like wet nurses, the tradition had died out over the years with the advent of blood storage and willing donors. Only the very orthodox bloodborn like Lena still kept blood slaves.
“My brother and I were sent with living companions, servants upon which we could feed.”
The look on your face was horror struck. “Was that…” Your eyebrows furrowed in consternation. “Was thatcommon?”
“It wasn’t terribly uncommon. There were a few families with my bloodline in positions of power in the Roman territories and elsewhere. It’s one of those things that gets smothered in the annals of history. Like non-heterosexuality.”
You took a sip of water. That was something of a tell for you. Whenever you found something distasteful, you drank water to cleanse your palate. I could only shield you so much. If you sought answers about me and my heritage, I’d rather be the one to give them to you.
“So, are you, like, a vampire?”
I chuckled. Humans and their superstitions. “Only in the sense that I crave blood and feed on humans. Much of the lore associated with vampires—the garlic, crosses, stakes to the heart and such—is really just pretense to give humans a false sense of security. If one of my kind wished to devour you, there would be little you could do to stop them.”
Talking about this topic, smelling your alluring scent, seeing the fright in your wide eyes reminded me of the taste of your blood—velvety and rich, the very essence of you. How willingly you’d given it to me, how warm and satisfying it cascaded over my tongue. There was nothing quite like having my teeth break skin and inviting that first gush of blood flow into my mouth. The true nectar of the gods.
“The sunlight thing is somewhat true,” I continued. “In our bloodborn bodies, our senses are extremely developed, so there is some sensitivity to light. And our teeth are sharper than most, to allow for… well, you know.”
I wiped my mouth with my napkin and watched you process this information.
“Did your servants… did they survive?”
“Usually. We were careful not to take too much, though sometimes an infection would develop. Antiseptic had not been invented yet.”
