LOVE BITES Page 0,39

nodded. "She's suffered hemophobia from childhood. The sight and smell of blood made her faint. The only way she could feed was biting or taking blood intravenously."

"Biting? Wouldn't she taste it that way?"

"No. If you do it right, the teeth soak the blood in. It never touches your tongue."

"Then why didn't she just bite bags, like you did today?"

"The sight made her faint too," he reminded. "And she can hardly go around stabbing her teeth blindly into blood bags. She might make a heck of a mess if her aim is off. Then, too, there is the smell," he added. "The moment your teeth sink into a blood bag, the scent wafts up. It's a particular smell, bagged blood. For the rest of us, it's not a problem, but it is for Lissianna."

"I see," Rachel murmured, then became aware that he was frowning at her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Rachel considered. They'd been playing Blood Lust II for hours, and she couldn't even recall the last time she'd eaten. She didn't think she had since before Pudge attacked her. "I'm hungry."

He nodded slowly. "I thought so. You look pale. Nothing will satisfy that hunger but blood."

Rachel grimaced. "Don't you guys eat any food?"

"We." He emphasized the word, reminding her that she was one of them now. "We certainly can and do eat food, especially while young. Children have to eat normal food as well as ingest blood to help muscle and bone grow. Those who don't are usually easy to tell--they're often stunted and emaciated. But after reaching adulthood, it isn't as necessary. After a hundred years or so, most grow tired of the hassle and sometimes even the taste, and they simply rely on blood with the occasional meal to help maintain muscle mass. Although Bastien is sure it isn't necessary."

Rachel considered, then cleared her throat. "Well, that means I have roughly seventy years before I get tired of eating."

Etienne managed a crooked smile. "I'll order something delivered from the deli."

"Deli?" Rachel frowned and glanced at her wrist-watch--which of course wasn't there. "What time is it?"

"A little after ten a.m."

"After ten?" she almost screeched. They'd played the night through and into morning. She supposed the saying was true that time flew when you were having fun. Still, it was hard to believe that they'd wasted the whole night.

"What would you like?" Etienne asked as he began to punch numbers into the phone on his desk.

Rachel thought, then asked for a Reuben, chips, and a Coke. She was really hungry, a feeling that was growing by the minute now that she was aware of it.

They played more Blood Lust II as they waited for the food to be delivered, but Rachel was distracted. She was relieved when the doorbell finally chimed, announcing the arrival of her order. Etienne excused himself and went to answer. Rachel knew he expected her to wait below in his office, but she just couldn't. Pausing the game, she followed him upstairs. She stepped into the kitchen just as he entered from the hallway, a deli bag in hand.

Rachel managed to control herself as he found her a plate and set out her food, but then she fell on the sandwich and chips with a ravenous hunger that was almost embarrassing. She didn't stop eating until she had consumed every last crumb and drunk every last drop of pop; then she sat back and frowned. Her stomach was full to bursting, yet her brain was still claiming she was hungry.

"You need blood," Etienne told her gently, seeming to realize her craving. "Bastien said you'd need a lot of it for a while. Your body is still changing."

"I thought I was done."

"Mostly done," he corrected. "There are still a couple of things left."

"Like what?" she asked curiously. She wondered if he would mention orgasms.

"Your senses will sharpen. Your ability to smell is already improved, but it will grow keener. And your eyesight, of course. You'll be able to to see in the dark."

"Your mother mentioned that," Rachel admitted. It didn't sound too bad. It was certainly better than facial lumps and bumps.

"Come." He stood. "We'll fix you up with an intravenous."

"I hate needles," Rachel complained, but she got reluctantly to her feet. "I mean I really hate them. I practically have a phobia."

"You need more blood. You won't feel better until you get some," Etienne lectured. He led the way up the hall.

Rachel stuck out her tongue at his back, but she knew he was right--she needed