his body hunched and spent, while his eyes scrutinize the floor.
A part of me relishes this moment. He needs blood. And I have it—for now—until however long it would take him to get up and pin me down.
But... he’s also suffering.
I gag thinking I might actually care, but I move toward him anyway. My fingertips trace over my collarbones, increasingly fearful, while my shivering feet somehow get me across the marble floor.
He lifts his head and his eyes meet mine. Even when my better judgment overcomes me and I avert them to the ground, the weight of his bejeweled gaze remains. His body just comes into my downcast view when he reaches out to take my arm. I jolt at the touch—hot, horribly hot. The lines of sickness pulse like veins beneath his skin. Whatever it is, apparently it’s killing him.
From his left he retrieves a kortrastet needle and a crimson towel. The needle’s bronze and gold carvings glint royal blue and teal in the dim lantern light—the tip of it shaking in his grasp. I think back to mine and Savvy’s conversation in the troughs and gulp down my animosity for him for a split second.
“Are you sure you have time to do that?” I ask.
He tilts his head to study me while I turn mine to the corner of the room, adding on, “Just seems like a waste of a courtesy when you’re dying.”
His jaw clenches and he holds my arm taut as he buries the needle into my vein. I wince from the dull and shivery prick.
“Twice within a day would surely kill you. Even this method could be problematic.” His voice rakes over his tongue, while my heart swims up into my throat. “And I don’t want to kill you.”
“Then why me? Why not someone else?”
He merely shakes his head and pulls me to stand in between his legs. After a moment, he says, “I want yours.”
The breath in my lungs freeze. What?
No, seriously. What?
My blood quality must be the vampire equivalent of dry, wilted kale with how much time I have spent making it that way by being miserable. I filter every possible explanation through my head until I’m left at one possibility—that something tragic must have happened to Zein’s taste buds.
“Seems pretty risky for something you want,” I evaluate.
Zein’s upper lip manages to curl. “Isn’t everything?”
“But you have a choice.” My anger cuts through.
A strange expression sweeps across his face for a second before the conversation is discarded altogether. Sweat lines his hair and brows as he holds the thin, clear tube up to his mouth. I swallow down building tension as the embedded lines of sickness spread to his jaw, then to his lips—fast and haunting. Just how much blood does Zein need to heal? Would what I have even be enough for something as sinister as this?
The clear of the tube is soon replaced by a thick and dark red that is enough to churn my stomach. He places the end of the tube in between his teeth and tilts his head back, letting its contents drip ever so slowly down into his throat. He maneuvers my arm, holding my wrist angular to let the blood flow freely.
The seconds start to feel like hours and my vision blurs, dizzying any time I shift my focus. The crisp and clean architecture begins swirling and buzzing across my lids. The weight of my head and body, insignificant and light. One moment I’m gazing up at the shadowy blue lanterns, and the next I’m falling. I throw out my free arm and somehow catch myself on Zein’s shoulder, but even then I’m unsteady. He wraps his free hand around my waist and pulls me down onto his lap, alleviating the novel search for balance.
“I’m sorry, just a bit more,” he manages to whisper as blood coats his lips.
Every limb becomes heavier, every breath shallower… and I collapse my head against his chest. All they want is more. They take until they can take no more. Vampires. How can they do this and feel no guilt or sympathy? That’s right… because they are monsters. Beings that know nothing but selfish gain—bloodlust and violence and selfishness.
It isn’t until he meets my glare head on that I realize I had been scowling at him shamelessly. To hell with what Nightingale taught, right? Apparently, eye contact is fine and vampires can bite you without consequence. Oh, happy day.
But wait, did he actually apologize to me? My thoughts swim deeper