Page 26 of Blood Secret

“Stop. Just stop, all right?” She looked away, toward the pathetic excuse for a kitchen. “I don’t need you to rub my nose in it. Maybe you should try putting yourself in my shoes for a second. Give empathy a shot. You wouldn’t be so mean.”

“It’s difficult for me to empathize with a willfully ignorant creature.”

“Yeah, well, give it a shot. Vampire.”

“My name is Vale.”

“I don’t care.”

“It doesn’t matter.” And that was the truth.

She didn’t have to like me or care what my name was, and vice versa. I was there to do a job. My eyes traveled the length of her body, assessing.

“You’re dirty. You should clean up and try to get some rest. It’s been a trying night.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She sat up and unlaced her boots, then pulled them off and dropped them on the floor. They fell with a resounding thud. “Just because you’re here doesn’t mean you have the right to mess up my schedule.”

“I wasn’t aware you had a schedule I was interfering with.”

“I hope I remember everything clearly.” She turned her back before sliding her dress over her head, then bending at the waist to remove her stockings.

Challenging me? Or proving she didn’t care whether or not I stayed? I wasn’t strong enough to keep my eyes from her round, firm backside under the little scrap of fabric that I guessed passed for undergarments. She was smooth, like she’d been carved from marble. She pulled a thin, baggy shirt over her head which just barely reached her upper thighs.

My eyes snapped away from her body when she turned back to me.

“What is it you plan to do?” I asked despite the abundance of saliva in my mouth.

She made it water just like the promise of blood did.

“I have to draw what I saw tonight. I want to draw her, on the dance floor.”

“You what?” I laughed for the first time in as long as I could remember.

“What? That’s the reason I go to the club in the first place. I told you.” She went to the pad on the easel, twisting her braid up on top of her head as she did and using a band to secure it. “I sketch what I see there. I have a collection of work going up at a local gallery soon, and this is part of a follow-up series.”

“You’re serious?”

Curiosity got the better of me, and I went to the supply-covered table. There was a stack of rough sketches there. Shadowy figures, tall and imposing. Secretive—no, furtive was a better word. She had captured that. Leaning against the bar, dancing together, huddled in corners. Half-hidden by darkness. There was a feeling of dread, of intrigue. Yes, even of beauty. A dangerous beauty.

I could believe the creatures she drew had many secrets, many dark desires. I could almost see why they fascinated her the way they did.

“What do you think?” I looked up to find her working rapidly, arm moving back and forth as she did a quick sketch with a worn-down pencil.

“I think I understand why you chose them as your subjects,” I admitted. “I think you have talent.”

“Thanks so much,” she smirked. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear it in her voice.

“And you sell your work?”

“Of course.”

“This is not the impression your birth mother has of you. I feel like you should know that.”

“What impression does she have?”

“She thinks you’re drawn to the danger. That you’re one of the humans who wants to be part of their world—the vampires, the witches.”

“Ah. I see. She doesn’t understand me any better than Miriam.”

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