Page 45 of Blood Caged

“Dickwad?” I cock my head.

“Dimitri. My favorite blood leech.” She looks around. “Where is he today? And the others.”

I walk past her through the doorway, trying not to inhale her scent as I do so. As it is, brushing past her leaves me with the strangest urge to stop and stroke her hair.

Right. Creepy as fuck, Daire.

“They will no longer be attending to you.”

“Attendingto me?” She snorts. “Great. So, who’s going to be the lucky candidate this time?”

“Me.” I cross the room to where the tray is set out with needles and syringes.

“What?” she chokes out. I turn to face her, taking in her shocked expression. Her eyes widen, a mix of surprise and wariness crossing her features. “You?” she asks, her voice colored with disbelief. “Why?”

I set down the syringe, meeting her gaze steadily. “I’ve decided to oversee your…procedures personally from now on,” I explain, choosing my words carefully. “It’s part of the changes I’m implementing to ensure your well-being and that of the other witches here.”

Mia’s eyebrows furrow, skepticism clear in her voice. “And I’m supposed to believe you suddenly care about our well-being?”

“I understand your distrust,” I say, keeping my tone even. “But I assure you, my intent is to make this process as comfortable as possible. You’ve been mistreated, and that ends now.”

I watch as a myriad of emotions play across Mia’s face. There’s still distrust there, certainly. But there’s something else too, a flicker of…relief? It’s subtle but unmistakable.

She seems to be wrestling with herself, caught between her ingrained wariness of me and a grudging acknowledgment that this might be an improvement over her previous experiences.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing,” Mia finally says, “but don’t think for a second that this changes anything between us.”

I nod, accepting her words. “I don’t expect it to. I’m simply doing what should have been done from the start.”

I gesture toward a comfortable chair nearby, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. “Please, sit down,” I say. “I’ll explain everything as we go.”

Mia’s eyes dart between me and the chair, her body rigid with tension. She takes a half-step back, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

“I don’t think so,” she says, her voice tight with barely contained anger. “I’m not just going to sit there and let you drain me like some kind of juice box.”

I suppress a sigh, reminding myself of her position. Of course she’s resistant. I’d be more concerned if she wasn’t. “I understand your reluctance,” I say, maintaining eye contact. “But I promise you, this will be different from how things were in the past.”

She snorts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Right, because you’re suddenly Mr. Compassionate Vampire?”

I take a step closer, noting how she tenses further but doesn’t retreat. “I’m trying to make this as painless as possible for you,” I explain, my tone firm but not unkind. “The sooner we begin, the sooner it will be over.”

A muscle twitches in Mia’s jaw, her eyes blazing. For a moment, I think she might actually try to fight me. But then, almost imperceptibly, her shoulders relax. She’s still glaring at me, but there’s a hint of resignation in her voice when she speaks. “Fine. Just do it.”

I reach out, gently guiding her toward the chair with a hand on her lower back. The moment my fingers make contact, I feel a jolt of…something. It’s like a current of electricity, sharp and sudden, racing up my arm. Mia stiffens, her breath catching audibly. Our eyes meet, and for a split second, I see my own surprise mirrored in her gaze.

I prepare the equipment methodically, my movements precise and controlled. As I turn back to Mia, my eyes are drawn to her arm. The sight that greets me sends a surge of anger through my body. Her skin is marred with a constellation of needle marks, some fresh, others fading. It’s clear she’s been handled roughly, treated cruelly. My kind have a lot to answer for.

I force down the growl that threatens to escape.

This ends now.

“May I?” I ask softly, reaching for her arm.

Mia hesitates, then nods stiffly. As I take her arm in my hands, I’m struck by how warm her skin feels against mine. It’s been so long since I’ve felt the heat of life coursing through my own veins, and the contrast is stark.

I cradle her arm gently, my touch as light as I can manage. My fingers ghost over the inside of her elbow, seeking a vein that hasn’t been abused. I’m acutely aware of every point of contact between us – the softness of her skin, the faint tremor in her muscles.

As I work, I notice Mia’s breathing change. It becomes shallower, quicker. A shiver runs through her body, so subtle I might have missed it if I weren’t hyper-aware of her every movement. She tries to hide it, turning her face away, but I catch the way her pulse quickens beneath my fingertips.

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