Vampire hunger wasn’t comparable to human hunger—or at least no hunger he’d known as a mortal. It was urgent and all consuming.
Ben hadn’t fed in three nights, and he was starting to feel it. He’d been pushing himself, trying to stretch his control.
“Do not become slave to your physical needs.” It was a constant refrain from his sire. “If you are slave to your physical needs, others will be master of you.”
Of course, Ben also remembered the simple advice his sire’s most loyal servant had given him. “Don’t push your luck,” Tai had said. “Vampire mistakes are messy.”
That night he felt Tai’s wisdom in his bones, but the woman wouldn’t take her eyes off him. It was hard to think about leaving the protected walls of the vampire safe house in the old city to hunt when he wasn’t sure if he would be followed.
“Sir, would you like anything else to drink tonight?” The servant would have been near silent to human ears, but Ben wasn’t human anymore.
Anything to drink? Ben scanned the compound. Several humans roamed around, the blood-red collar they wore a testament to their willingness to feed vampire guests. He wouldn’t need to leave the compound to feed unless he wanted to, not with so many donors present.
It wasn’t a hardship. There were women and men willing to offer their necks, especially when they were paid well. Many humans enjoyed the sensation of a vampire bite, which could range from excruciating to intoxicating.
Ben had spent the previous year learning how to feed with the least emotional transfer possible. He didn’t want his reactions leaking into random humans who fed him; it wouldn’t be fair to subject unsuspecting humans to his roller coaster of feelings. He might have gained control over his bloodlust, but his emotional highs and lows were enough to give even the steadiest human whiplash.
Most nights Ben felt like he existed in the world akin to an exposed nerve. He careened from ecstatic to angry to sullen in the space of an hour. Flying made him happy. Missing the sun made him angry. Silence gave him peace.
His stomach twisted, the server waited, and the mysterious vampire was still staring.
Saffron tea wasn’t going to sate him.
Ben pointed his chin in the direction of a woman on the far side of the courtyard. “Her.”
“Very well. I’ll send Mer—”
“Don’t need to know her name.” He glanced at the server. “Just send her over.”
“Yes, sir.”
Yes, sir.
No, sir.
It will only be a moment, sir.
Right away, sir.
My greatest apologies, sir.
Ben supposed there were immortals who reveled in the deference, but it made his skin crawl.
I was just like you. He felt like shouting it. I’m a nobody. A poor bastard who fell into the immortal world, constantly in debt to beings greater than myself.
In debt to his adoptive uncle, Giovanni Vecchio, an immortal who plucked him off the street when Ben was twelve and gave him an education and a future. In debt to his Aunt Beatrice, a vampire who made sure he felt as loved as any natural child.
In debt to an immortal family who taught him how to protect himself and an ancient vampire who gave him vision.
Ben was in debt to vampire clients who had put their faith in him despite his mortal status.
And now he was in debt to others: a friend who betrayed him to save his life and a sire who gave him status he never wanted.
The mortal woman walked silently through the courtyard, her feet making no noise as they crossed the cobblestones. Her skin was a smooth light brown and her black hair was twisted up in a neat chignon that showed off a delicate neck marked with numerous healed bites. Her expression was carefully blank, but her hands didn’t tremble.
She knelt on the plush carpet before him and looked up with hooded eyes. “Sir, do I meet your approval?”
Her lips were already flushed and her eyes were dilated. What had led her to this life? Why did she enjoy the feel of fangs in her neck and lifeblood being sucked from her vein? Her face told him nothing, but her lips told the story.
“Yes.”
She rose and moved toward him, this time kneeling on the low cushion. “Would you like to feed from the neck or the wrist, sir?”
“Wrist.” He kept his voice even, but he could feel her disappointment.
“Your wish, sir.” She raised her wrist politely.
Ben turned to her and met her gaze. “Be comfortable.”