Page 39 of Taste of Fate

The suite’s door opened and I called out in a rush, “You can’t keep pretending I don’t exist, Cyan! This isn’t fucking fair.”

The door slammed shut, and I softly closed my own door, wondering how I’d survive riding with him all the way to my former home.

“Twenty-four hours.”

That was all Cyan said to me as he pulled up in front of the outer gate of Sapien, let me off his motorcycle, and sped off with a roar. He was so pissed off at me, he couldn’t even speak full sentences.

I turned to face the settlement which had been my home since birth, but didn’t feel welcoming in the slightest. Amy and Robin were the only ones I wanted to see. No one else sleeping in those quiet cabins and mobile homes cared if I was dead or alive.

It was well into evening now, but I knew Amy would still be awake, probably with her nose in a bodice-ripper paperback. Moving quietly between the homes, I knocked on the door of the single-wide that Amy and I used to share. There was dim lamplight in the window, and I heard someone stirring right after I knocked.

The door swung open and there stood my bestie in her cotton shorts and the giant, threadbare men’s T-shirt that she slept in. Her hair was mussed on one side, like she’d been lying down, and her open-mouthed stare at me was so dramatic that I wanted to burst out laughing.

“Tavia?!” she whisper-yelled, wide eyes scanning me up and down. “Holy shit, what are you doing here? Did you escape?”

I chuckled softly at that. “Hey, Ames. No, just stopping for a visit.”

She looked bewildered, like she couldn’t tell if I was kidding. I had to remember that from her perspective, I was a sacrifice. A blood meal for the monstrous species who ruled the world we lived in. She might have even mourned me over the past few weeks, believing I didn’t live long after Cyan took me away.

“How are you alive? How long can you stay?” Her eyes welled with tears, bottom lip trembling.

“It’s a bit of a story, and only for a day.” I spread my arms. “Gonna invite in your sister from another mister or what?”

Amy rushed at me with a bright peal of laughter. She was so small that I could pick her up and carry her inside, which was exactly what happened.

The inside of the trailer didn’t change much. My side had been largely untouched, the bed still made with one of Amy’s knitted blankets thrown over the top. I didn’t keep many things in my space, but what little I did have was still there. My clothes still hung on the rack that served as my closet, and the few books I had, science fiction primarily, remained in a neat stack in the cubby of my nightstand.

Amy’s side was messy, but in an endearing, cozy way. She had blankets, pillows, romance paperbacks, and unfinished knitting projects piled everywhere. She also loved bright cheery colors—pinks, creams, mint green, and mustard yellow, while my side was more neutral. The blanket on my bed was my favorite that she’d made, a foresty green with small details of red.

“So, what have they done to you for the past few weeks?” Amy pulled me to her bed to sit with her, inspecting me closely. “You look good, healthy even.”

“Yeah, I haven’t been fed from at all, actually.” With the exception of last night, I thought, rubbing the base of my thumb where I’d cut myself. The wound was completely healed now, with barely a scar.

“At all?” Amy repeated. “I thought that was the whole point of giving you to them.”

“Turns out, it’s more complex than that,” I said.

“Well, explain.” Amy crossed her legs in front of her, settling in for a story.

“A blood pet is significant to vampires, it actually implies a commitment. The protector, the—” I wracked my brain for the word Cyan had used—”the verakt, is responsible for the blood pet’s care and well-being. And he’s expected to not feed from anyone else.”

Amy’s eyes narrowed. “So it’s kind of like a marriage?”

“No!” I protested loudly. “It’s totally normal for the relationship to be platonic, that’s what Cyan and I are. We’ve been becoming friends, kind of.”

“And he hasn’t fed from you at all?”

“Well…” I couldn’t lie, not to Amy. “I cut my finger the other night and he licked a little bit of my blood when he closed the wound, but not like actual feeding.”

I decided not to mention the kiss or how immensely turned on I had been, as that would unravel the whole platonic angle. Plus I was still too confused by Cyan’s behavior to call us anything but platonic at this point.

“Why not?”

“Cyan didn’t actually want a blood pet. I’m guessing none of his clan did, because they drew straws and he got the short one. So he ended up with me.”

“Why didn’t he want you?” Amy leaned forward, hugging a pillow in her lap. “Scared of commitment?”

“I don’t know about scared, but yeah, he said he likes having a variety of blood sources.”

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