Page 111 of Bitten Vampire
“Yeah. He is.” He sits beside me and pulls me against his side.
“So,” he murmurs, glancing at my phone, “what are you doing?”
“Have you seen this app? Podcasts! Motivational, helpful. Look at this one—” I scroll to something utterly ridiculous:
Bite Club Confidential,episode 8, “Confessions of a Vegan Vampire”—a candid interview with a vampire who claims to survive on beetroot juice and dark chocolate alone.
“That’s a… very unusual topic,” Valdarr says, deadpan.
“Yeah, but it’s interesting.”
I think back on what James said. It’s so simple, yet so clever. “About the court, James thinks we should register me as an oracle.”
“Yes, I noticed he’s already filling out the forms.” We share a grin. “I think it’s a sound idea.”
“Me too. Not that I’m much of an oracle; I still can’t see what’s going to happen tonight. James says I should act as though I know. I’m inclined to agree.”
“We could try something else. A little power boost,” he says, tilting his head and studying me.
“What sort of power boost?” I narrow my eyes.
“Well… vampires can drink from each other.”
“Oh,” I squeak. I have no idea what to say.
Valdarr simply waits—calm, unbothered—giving me space to work it out.
I have read enough about vampire culture to know that drinking from one another is… normal. It’s part of their nature and their society. It isn’t taboo or monstrous—at least, not to them.
Yet my human brain recoils. It whispersdisgusting, inhuman, wrong.
Except, I don’t see Valdarr as a monster, and I don’t see myself as one either.
So, if we are not monstrous, why should this be?
“I know it’s natural,” I murmur, taking a deep breath. “It’s normal.”
“It is.”
“Will it weaken you?”
“No. It will strengthen us both,” he says softly, “and deepen our bond.”
I nod. “Then… yes. I’ve never bitten anyone before. I mean, I tried a peach once.”
Valdarr pulls a face. “Bet that wasn’t very good.”
“Disgusting,” I agree. “So… do I just bite? Is there a preferred spot?”
“The wrist isn’t ideal.” He gestures to the side of his neck. “Here is better. Or the femoral artery in the upper thigh, but that might feel a little… personal.”
My mind goes straight there. I wonder who he’s bitten or who has bitten him. I growl before I can stop myself.
He chuckles, eyes sparkling.
“Sorry. So… do you want to bite me as well?”
“It would be good to exchange,” he says.
