Page 77 of How a Vampire Falls

Not likely. But he nodded again and let her lead him inside to one of the booths. Leslie was right. It was past time for her to know…everything.

Twenty-Two

Slake It Off was more crowded today than it had been the evening before. Apparently lunchtime was a common slaking hour. The rich, salty aroma coming from behind the bar and from glasses on a serving tray that passed by them—Leslie swallowed hard, half thirsty despite slaking that morning.

“Before we settle in, I think I want a drink,” she said.

Ryker gestured her to the bar. “My treat.”

“I guess sparring and vertical climbing take more physical effort than hiking my mountains.”

“Sparring definitely uses more energy, at least for me.”

“Are you thirsty too?”

Ryker shrugged.

“Have you slaked since last night?”

“Nah.”

At the bar, Claire poured her a glass. Ryker got out his wallet, and Leslie gave him a look she hoped was both clear and persuasive. She didn’t want to be pushy, but she couldn’t forget Senna’s reprimand about ignoring his thirst.

“Okay,” he said with an eye roll. “Two please, Claire.”

“Any type?”

“Whatever.”

Claire rolled her eyes right back at him. “I do not understand how you don’t have a preference.”

“A preference?” Leslie said. “Blood’s blood.”

“Not at all,” Ryker intoned with a professor’s somberness. “Claire Vanderlaan is among the elite vampires whose palates detect the most subtle differences.”

No way. “That’s a thing?”

“I prefer type A,” Claire said. “The tang is sharper, and it’s less earthy than O.”

“You’re serious.”

“She is deadly serious,” Ryker said. “She can taste all sorts of subtleties I’ve never even heard of.”

“No wonder you have a type tasting on the menu.” Leslie had wondered about it, written on the chalkboard behind the bar. But last time they’d been here, she had been sidetracked from asking by Ryker’s urgent need, then the tour, then the enjoyment of privacy behind the partition.

“When someone orders my sampler, I know they’ve got a palate like mine.” The flash of Claire’s teeth held a bit of predatory glee. “It leads to some great conversations.”

Claire poured a second glass for Ryker, and then he and Leslie took their beverages to one of the private booths. They sat a moment, sipping. Leslie’s gums ached as her fangs descended, and she sat absorbing the wonder of being here in public, not needing to conceal herself. Energy flooded into her as she continued to sip.

Ryker took a long gulp from his glass, then seemed to need a breath as his cheeks flushed with the same energy that had filled Leslie’s body.

“Youwerethirsty,” she said, her fangs bringing a soft hiss to the last word.

“I guess I was.” Ryker hissed his s’s too, and his husky velvet voice in combination with the effect of his fangs was…kind of sexy. “I didn’t notice until now, when I tasted it.”

“Your mom’s right. You’ve got to work on this.”

“I know I should, but…” He shrugged, self-deprecation in his fanged grin. “I never remember.”

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