“Yeah, tons.” I smiled, flattered by his obvious enjoyment of my art. As much as my inner critic claimed he was just being polite, I could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Most are in boxes in my bedroom, though.”
“I would like to see them sometime. If you don’t mind?” He walked across to the sofa and finally sat down, eying the glass of blood.
“Of course.” I reached for my drawing pad and pencil I’d strategically laid out on the coffee table in preparation for his arrival. Or hadn’t tidied up in my frantic rush to make my apartment look somewhat inhabitable, more like, but whatever.
“But it’ll have to wait. I’ve been so looking forward to this. You have really beautiful features.”
“Thank you,” he said after a moment’s hesitation, giving me a glance out the corner of his eye, and it wasn’t until then that I realized I’d called him beautiful. The young man on my couch whom I’d had more than one perverted dream about. Of course he would think I was flirting.
“Uh, I mean—you’ve got the face of any artist’s dream. Your cheekbones and jawline are very… structured,” I finished lamely, realizing I wasn’t making things any better. Judging from Warin’s arrow-straight posture and lack of eye contact, I’d managed to make him feel about as awkward as I did.
Great. Just great.
“Uh, so just relax and have a drink, and I’ll get started. I need to find your lines, so I don’t need you to sit super still just yet,” I said, thankful he at least couldn’t see my mortified blush while refusing to look at me.
I began drawing in the angles of his high cheekbones, and Warin reached for his glass and sank a bit further back into the couch. He looked like he was trying to appear relaxed, but his back was still obviously tensed.
“You don’t spend a lot of time around humans, do you?” I guessed. He looked completely out of place in my small home, and not only because of his immaculately pressed charcoal pants and soft cashmere sweater.
“Not socially,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up in just a ghost of a smile as he finally looked toward me.
“More for food, huh?” I asked as I quickly captured the small tilt of his lips. “I guess that’s not what most people would call a social affair, even if it involves dinner.”
He was polite enough to smile at my terrible joke.
“I only spend time with humans for business affairs. I haven’t fed from a human in… years. Apart from you.” His gaze brushed over my collarbone, and I subconsciously brought a hand to where he’d licked my blood off all those months ago.
“Huh. Then what do you eat?” I asked, forcing the echo of his tongue lapping against my skin firmly from my mind. “Animal blood?”
“Sometimes. Mostly donor blood.” He finally reached for his glass, as if the topic had reminded him of its existence.
“Do people often guess what you are? Like, do your business associates know they’re dealing with a vampire?” I asked as I began sketching in his eyebrows. The shadows of his refined Cupid’s bow and the angle of his jaw were begging for a charcoal drawing, but I always liked to start out in pencil until I was familiar with the subject. Especially with a live model.
“Not often, no. And when they do, it’s easy to Compel them to forget.” His fingers tightened around the stem of the glass for a moment before he brought it to his lips.
I opened my mouth to ask what on Earth he meant by “Compel them to forget,” but before I could, Warin’s features contorted in revulsion and he harked and spat the deep red liquid back into the glass.
“Jesus fuck, are you all right?” I tossed my paper and pencil aside and rushed to his side to slap his back as he heaved.
The vampire made a groaning sort of noise in response. His coughing fit lasted for nearly a minute before it finally seemed to ease. Whatever blood remained in his mouth he wiped on his arm, seemingly not caring about the expensive cashmere sweater.
“What was that? Do you need some water?” I asked, already halfway up to get him a glass of water before he stopped me.
“No.” He muttered something that sounded an awful lot like a curse. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” I said. It was true—he looked if possible even paler than normal, with a slightly green tinge. “What the hell happened?”
Warin touched the glass with a single finger, pushing it farther away. “It’s dead blood.”
“Uh…” I frowned, looking at the glass. “Isn’t all blood…?”
“We cannot drink corpse blood. If the blood is drained after the last heartbeat, it is poisonous to vampires.”
“Oh, my goddess! I am so, so sorry!” I slapped a hand up to cover my mouth, feeling about as horrible as one should when nearly poisoning their unsuspecting guest. Martha Stewart would certainly never give me any sorts of rewards, that’s for certain. “I had no idea.”
“Where did you get this blood from?” he asked, a speculative frown on his still slightly ill-looking face.
“The local supermarket’s butcher. Why, is it uncommon for it to be, uh, from a dead animal?”
“Yes.” He rubbed his face with his blood-free hand. “Butchers always sell fresh blood.”
My eyes widened. “You think… you think someone deliberately swapped it with dead blood? To target vampires? Who would even know to do that?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out for months. There have been… concerning events. I was close to unraveling their network this summer, but they have been laying low since August.” He gave the glass another disgusted look. “They could certainly be organized enough to target blood distribution, and the victims would rarely be high ranking enough for anyone to notice.”
“Oh, wow, I forgot you said you were in vampire law enforcement.” I stared at him with renewed appreciation. Then something he’d said dawned on me, and my stomach dropped: since August.
“Is that why you were in that basement? Did I ruin some undercover mission, or something like that?”
The first smile since what I’d undoubtedly be referring to as “the blood incident” for years to come touched his lips. “Something like that.”
“Oh, fuck. I’m sorry.”
He snorted. “You’re sorry you got kidnapped and offered as food for me? You are an odd one.”
“Yeah, well,” I huffed, not entirely sure how to take his continued insistence that I was a weird human. “I’m gonna help you get to the bottom of the blood thing. It’s the least I can do for nearly poisoning you.”
The wry smile on his face disappeared in the blink of an eye. “You will do no such thing.”
“Beg your pardon?”
He frowned at me. “I believe I’ve made it perfectly clear that I do not wish for you to get in between vampires and those who seek to harm us.”
I rolled my eyes. “And you always get your way, do you? Whoever they are, they thought it was perfectly acceptable to feed me to a vampire, remember? I think I have a right to get as involved as I want. Which isn’t much, by the way. But I could just go to the butcher’s during daytime and ask casually about the blood. Probably less suspicious than if a ghostly guy shows up and starts chatting to them about their suppliers, eh?”