Page 62 of Hot Blooded
“Really? Like what kind of sexy stuff?” I raise my eyebrows at her.
She giggles. “Graphic sexy stuff.”
“My dear sweet, Tressa. Are you reading a dirty book?”
She nods, a prideful smile on her face.
I make a little clucking sound in disapproval. “I’ve read tens of thousands of books in my life. But I’ve never read ones with sex scenes in them. I may have to try one.”
She blushes. “I’ll be happy to make some recommendations to you.”
“Please, my dear. Please do.”
Movement catches my eye and I turn to seeHenrick, our pool boy, arms full of supplies.
“MisterTryst,” he nods to me. “Should I come back another time, sir?”
“Nonsense, go ahead with your business, we won’t mind.” I wave him off and return to my excellent view of that little vein beating in Tressa’s neck, beads of sweat rolling down it.
I notice Henrick walking backwards, skimmer in hand as he reaches the end of the pool, and the next few moments play outin slow motion. Henrick’s misstep off the side, his body falling into the pool, his head hitting the side on his way down, the loud crack echoing through the air as he sinks to the bottom with a splash.
Jumping from my seat I bound over and dive in immediately. I don’t know how hurt he is, but I can’t let him drown. Swimming to his motionless body, I grab him as gently as I can and kick us to the edge, lifting his body easily from the water. Carefully, I set him down on the edge of the pool as Tressa rushes to us.
She leans her head down to his mouth and presses her finger to his neck. “He’s not breathing. I should do CPR,” I can hear the panic in her voice, yet she’s collected and in charge.
“No,” I grab her hand to stop her from pumping his chest. “I think he broke his neck, given the angle of the fall. I’ve already moved him a lot. Pressing on his chest might make things worse.”
Humans are so fragile. In just an instant, that could have been Tressa. She chews her lip,eyes filled with concern. I can practically see the wheels turning in her mind.
“I think we should try,” she decides. I nod in agreement.
Tressa presses on his chest for two minutes. He’s still not breathing. We turn him on his side in case he’s swallowed water. Time is wasting. The human brain can’t last long without oxygen. Minutes at best.
“Call for help,” Tressa sits back on her heels.
“It’ll take forty-five minutes for help to reach us,” I point out. I know it’s not what she wants to hear.
She feels for his pulse again in his neck. “It’s weak.Do something!” Tressa cries. There are tears in her eyes, and I hate how upset she is. Hate the fact that this poor kid’s life is draining away right before us and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I want to soothe her, take away this horror any way I can. “There’s nothing that can be done. He’s likely broken his neck.” I can tell because of the useless angle his head is hanging at. “Unless…”
“Unless what?” Tressa presses me. “Anything. Let’s try it Reign. Please. Hurry.”
I dislike my solution, but I loathe seeing Tressa in distress. I meet her eyes, touch her cheek. “Unless I turn him,” I offer cautiously.
Tressa’s eyes are wide and frightened. It takes her a moment to process this. “W-would he be okay?” she stutters.
“Well, yes. He’ll be like me.” My words are measured. The truth is much more complex, but there is no time to explain. No time to second guess the illegality of the idea.Okayis relative, it seems.
She pauses a beat before fixing a determined look on her face. “Do it. Do it Reign. Turn him.”
Without another second to think, I act on her command, leaning into his broken neck and sinking my teeth in, drawing in long sucks of blood, as much as I can take. He tastes nothing like Tressa. I get no pleasure from this drink. It’s bitter, but that’s likely because of the lack of fresh oxygen in his blood.
When I lean up, crimson dripping down from the corner of my mouth there is a look of fear on Tressa’s face that makes my stomach knot. Is she realizing what a monster I really am?
I don’t have time to contemplate it though. I lift my wrist to my mouth and sink my fangs into my own flesh. The blood starts to bead, and I grab Henrick’s jaw, squeezing hard until his mouth falls open. Holding my wrist above his mouth, I let the ruby-colored blood drip, clenching and unclenching my fist to force the pace of the flow to increase.
I don’t dare look at Tressa. Seeing her upset is too much as doubt over my actions in this moment gnaws at me. Should I really have done this? It’s been so long. What if I have taken some misstep? Revealing my inner beast to her like this will have all been for nothing.
