Page 4 of An Acquired Taste

I swallow. This is normally where I’d make some kind of dumb joke to alleviate tension, but I’m too anxious right now. Instead, I meekly follow Lissa through the door. She shuts it behind me, and I stare around at the foyer. It looks more modern than I would’ve imagined, sparsely decorated but still speaking of expense, with real hardwood floors and beautiful paintings adorning the walls. I stop for a moment to stare up at one—an image of a dark figure looming over a beautiful young woman’s bed—before Lissa clears her throat and gestures for me to follow her.

The parlor holds a large, round table with a delicate floral tea set. The table is accompanied by a lovely velvet chaise and matching chairs. The window has heavy curtains drawn across it, so the room is lit only by an array of old-fashioned sconces and a chandelier.

“Oh my God,” I blurt out as I drag my suitcase into the room. “This is… unreal. Like something straight out of a book.”

“Yeah, I suspect that’s what he’s aiming for,” Lissa says, looking unimpressed. Then her brusque attitude shifts as she shoots me the smallest smile. “But don’t tell him I told you.”

“Don’t tell me what?”

My laugh shrivels in my throat at the sound of an unfamiliar, British-accented voice behind me. I whirl around, one hand pressed to my chest, to find a man standing in the doorway that leads further into the house. He wasn’t here when I walked into the room, and I didn’t hear him arrive.

Vampire. I know it instantly, intuitively. I’ve never been this close to one before, but it’s like my body knows it’s in the presence of a predator. My pulse rises and my hair stands on end. The man doesn’t look like the cliché of a vampire, with hisgolden-brown skin, black beard, and round-rimmed glasses, but there is an unnatural stillness to him that makes me shiver.

“Lord Benjamin Acharya,” he introduces himself, extending a hand without moving forward. Leaving my suitcase behind, I hesitantly cross the room. With someone else, it could be a power play to make me walk to him, but judging from his gentle grip and the way he looks at me, I suspect it’s more that he’s trying not to alarm me. Yet the shock of his cold fingers makes me have to stifle a gasp.

“Amelia Burton,” I say, barely managing more than a whisper. Somewhere deep in my brain, I know I’m making a fool of myself, shaking like a leaf over a perfectly polite man who happens to be undead, but I can’t seem to regain control of my body.

Benjamin gestures to the table in the center of the room. Every movement is polite and slow, and yet my muscles tense every time. “Please, take a seat.” He glances at Lissa. “I’d appreciate it if you could stay for a few minutes.”

Lissa sighs and smooths her skirt as she sits on the chaise. I take a seat beside her, my movements awkward and stiff, like I’m a marionette rather than a person. God, what iswrongwith me?

“Your nerves are perfectly normal,” Benjamin says, as if he can read my mind. I guess hecanhear the nervous pitter-patter of my heart. He sinks into a seat opposite me with smooth grace, pours a cup of steaming tea into a porcelain mug, and slides it across the table to me. “Have some chamomile tea. Give yourself a few minutes to adjust. First time meeting a vampire, I presume?”

I nod, wrapping one hand around the cup but not able to bring myself to drink yet. Lissa’s arm brushes mine. Despite her brusqueness, her presence steadies me, especially since she seems at ease around Benjamin.

“Right,” Benjamin says. He pours himself a cup of tea, as well. Then he takes out a vial from his pocket, uncorks it, and pours the red liquid into the tea.Blood, I realize with a lurch.

He’s all nonchalance, like he’s adding sugar or cream instead of human blood. But I guess thisisperfectly routine for him. He raises the cup, takes a sip, and looks at me over the rim.

“You’re doing well,” he says as he sets the cup down, even though I’ve broken into a cold sweat. “Vampires are a natural predator. Your bodies have evolved to fear us. Some have stronger reactions than others; they will panic and flee from our presence. Others are too squeamish and will be ill at the sight of blood, let alone one of us drinking it.”

“So you’re saying I have weak survival instincts?” I croak.

He smiles. “Maybe so, but it’s a boon, given your interest in this line of work.”

I relax. So I’ve passed the first test. Maybe this idea wasn’t as crazy as it first seemed. Once I no longer feel like my heart is in my throat, I manage a small sip of tea. It’s nice and hot, with a mellow sweetness. My pulse gradually slows.

“Very good,” Benjamin says. He nods at Lissa, and she stands. Part of me wants to ask her to stay, but I know I am being tested, and so I bite my tongue. She pauses beside Benjamin, her fingers grazing his arm—and from the way his eyes linger on her as she leaves, I have a sudden inkling that there’s something a little more than an employer-employee relationship there.

I amsotempted to pry, but once I’m alone with a vampire in the room, my nerves surge and render me tongue-tied again.

“Now, Ms. Burton,” Benjamin says, returning his attention to me. “I’d like to thank you for contacting us. The Valentine Society is a new endeavor of mine; this year’s Valentine’s Day Ball will be our debut into vampire society. I set out with the intent to make this line of work safer for valentines, and that means I am particular about who I will sponsor. With only oneweek until the ball, I must inform you that I’m looking for something very special if I’m to bring you there with so little training.”

“So, no pressure,” I squeak.

He smiles. “I’d like to ask you a few questions. What attracted you to this line of work?”

“Well, I, uh—” I start, and then stammer, suddenly unsure about what the protocol is. “Am I supposed to call you ‘my lord,’ or something?” I know that vampires consider themselves nobility, since each of them has a trace of blood from the original vampire: Count Dracula, descended from King Attila of the Huns.

“Benjamin is fine,” he says. “Some vampires are sticklers for that sort of thing, but I find it all a bit embarrassing, if I’m being honest.”

“Okay. Benjamin.” I brush my hair out of my face, stalling as I try to think of a good answer. Should I be formal, or honest? Can vampires really tell from your heartbeat if you’re lying? Do half-truths count as lying?

“There’s no one good answer,” Benjamin says. “There are many reasons that people come to this line of work, and regardless of what yours is, I will not judge you. I am simply trying to get to know you better.”

“Right. Sorry.” I laugh, a little breathless. “I’ve always been fascinated by vampires. As a little girl, I loved the gossip rags, the romance novels, all of it. I still watchA Day in the Life of a Valentineevery Friday.” Heat rises to my face. Maybe too honest? I try to redirect my nervous blathering. “But there was always a reason not to try it. Always some safer option to take.”

“So why are you here now?”

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