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I stare at the office door, all the gung-ho energy that’s been driving me today suddenly gone. I have to knock or I’ll be late for Tristan’s preferred feeding time—late on the first day of work is never a good look, and Tristan doesn’t seem like the type of boss who’d be okay with it any day—but if I knock, I’ll actually have to walk in there, offer my vein to a motherfucking vampire, and let him drink my blood. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

Is anyone ever ready for that?

Sucking in air, I lift my hand, hesitate, make a fist, hesitate again, and⁠—

The door opens.

My startled gaze locks onto Tristan’s face, which somehow manages to be expressionless while also conveying annoyance. That’s a pretty cool trick.

“If you’re going to come in, please do so,” he says coolly, stepping back and to the side to give me room. “If you’ve changed your mind about this position, now would be the appropriate time to inform me. The Association is unlikely to send a temp before tomorrow as it is.”

“I’m not changing my mind.” The words come out before I can make a conscious decision about it. I guess that’s my subconscious mind’s desire? Kind of like when you flip a coin and get disappointed by the outcome, so you know the other option was what you really wanted. Only, I’m not convinced that what I really want is to be vampire food.

Regardless, I walk past him. He’s left me plenty of space and we don’t touch at all, but the side of my body that’s closest to him gets… tingly. No, not tingly, creepy. Like all the hair there is standing on end, even though it’s not. I don’t know how to describe it, other than weird.

“There is no shame in realising you’ve made the wrong decision,” he continues, still standing beside the open door as I reach the desk. “I wouldn’t hold any animosity toward⁠—”

“I didn’t make the wrong decision, and I’m not changing my mind.”

His expression doesn’t change, but he does wait another beat before closing the door. I expect the finality of the latch clicking to stir something in me—regret? Panic?—but there’s nothing more than the same low-key nervous anticipation that comes with every new job I’ve started. I guess deep down I really am okay with doing this.

“Where do you want me?” I ask, and he gestures silently to the half turret. It takes only a few steps to get there, and I’m halfway into sitting in one of the armchairs when he stops me.

“On the bench.” He’s still standing by the door, and as I glance over, I finally notice that he looks different from this morning. For one thing, he’s taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, leaving his pale forearms bare. They’re slender, his wrists almost delicate-looking, but even from here I can see muscle tone. It would be a mistake to underestimate his strength, even without the added element of him being a vampire.

Wait… do vampires have super strength? I need to add that to my list of things to ask Cat. Or maybe it’s in the Association welcome pack that Sarah gave me. She said something about me not needing it since I’m a legacy but that regulations required her to give it to me.

In the meantime, I get up from the chair and move to the upholstered bench under the window. The blinds are down against the gloom of twilight, which is a huge relief. The garden might be private, but the idea of anyone having even the chance to watch this gives me the ick.

Tristan walks toward me, his movements fluid, elegant… efficient? It’s a weird way to describe how someone walks, but it fits. My gaze goes to his hair, which has fought its way free of whatever styling product he used. The curls are a bit wilder, no longer lying in place, and if he was human, I’d be itching to run my fingers through them and mess them up some more—preferably while kissing that red mouth. As it is, the itch is no more than a passing tingle in my fingertips. Completely ignorable.

He sits gracefully on the bench beside me, but not too close. I reckon I could fit a ruler into the space between us, one of those standard thirty-centimetre ones we used to use at school. It’s a respectable amount of space, the kind that indicates colleagues or acquaintances—people who know each other but aren’t particularly close. I’m… surprised? Cat said all I’d need to do is hold out my wrist, but I guess I still expected this to be an intimate experience. Maybe I need to watch fewer vampire movies and TV shows—they always manage to make bloodsucking seem either deadly or sexy.

“The Association couriered my copy of the signed contract,” Tristan says, making me jump slightly. His eyes narrow but he continues, “Did they give you one also?”

I nod. “Yeah. Uh, thanks for the generous terms.”

“Thanks aren’t necessary. If you prove acceptable to me, it’s in my best interest to ensure you want to stay for the maximum permitted period. Finding feeders that suit my needs is difficult.”

Suit his needs? What needs? Other than providing blood and keeping their mouth shut about it, there’s nothing else a feeder needs to do! Unless there’s something extra Tristan expects? He didn’t include it in the contract, or Sarah would have mentioned it… right?

Fuck, I want to ask, but I’m too worried about getting caught in the lie Cat and I have been telling. So instead, I make a noncommittal “Hm” sound.

His eyes search my face. I’m not sure what he sees, but it must satisfy him. “I understand your things were delivered this afternoon. Are your rooms satisfactory?”

“They’re great,” I admit. “Anna showed me where I can park my car, too.”

He nods. “If there’s anything you need, you’ve only to let Clive know. If he can’t arrange it, he’ll tell Pierce or me.”

“Thanks, that’s nice of you, but I don’t really need that much. Anna mentioned that Clive’s making moussaka for dinner tonight, and that’s already way better than anything I could have made myself.” She also said his spanakopita is amazing, so I’m hoping there’s some of that too.

Tristan nods again. “I don’t believe we discussed this earlier, but you are welcome to have guests here. They will need to be approved by Anna first, however.”

So, no bringing home spontaneous bar hookups. “No worries. It’s probably just going to be Cat, anyway. Most of my friends are from my human life, and I wouldn’t want to risk them learning stuff they shouldn’t.”

His face doesn’t change, but I get the impression he approves of my discretion. That’s gotta be a first—I’m not known for being discreet.

I am known for being impatient, and now that I’ve made up my mind to do this, I kind of want to get it done. Maybe Tristan likes chit-chat before he feeds or maybe this is a first-time thing, to make me comfortable, but either way, I’m over it.