Page 7 of Hot Blooded
Just hearing her voice lifts my spirits though. It sounds like she’s doing really well. But damn, I miss her. I’ve never been one for making friends, but Libby and I, despite our age gap, have always been really, really close.
Now I just have an hour to kill until dinner. Perhaps I should do some of the research that I’ve promised Libby, but I don’t think it necessary. Reign seems perfectly tame. I think. I hope.
Since I’m feeling a bit greasy and dehydrated from my flight, I decide to make good use of the bathtub—complete with a bottle of vanilla-scented bubble bath I find in a basket on the dresser. If I’m going forward with this insane assignment, I decide I may as well make the best impression possible. Even if the person I’m aiming to impress isn’t a person at all, but a vampire.
Chapter 4
Reign
I take a seat at the dining table across from Tressa.
Vanilla.
I sniff again.Peaches. And vanilla.
She smells of human. And female. And of vanilla and peaches. The scent is warm. Comforting.
It’s as though someone has made me a proper cup of English tea, something I haven’t had in such a very long time, but I’m not permitted to have any.
If she expects me not to bite her, maybe she could… I don’t know…notsmell like actual food.
Get it together, Reign. And for God’s sake, don’t let yourself go inexplicably hard again.
Mrs. Potts is watching me curiously from her spot in the butler’s pantry, and I growl out my frustration.
Tressa jumps in her seat.
My eyes drop lower, assessing her, and her face heats out of excitement or fear, I’m not sure which.
In terms of bad decisions, this one takes the top prize. Though it is Mrs. Potts who has hired Tressa, not me. So, it’s really her who deserves the award.Yes, but I’m the one who has to live with the consequences.
Her being here complicates things for me, sure, but I don’t need to be a complete asshole.
She keeps her gaze downcast as her pulse thrums out a steady and satisfying beat. Her refusal to meet my eyes is evident, and something about that grates at me.
“I trust your guest suite is to your liking?” I say somewhat stiffly.
I’m trying to be welcoming. Non-threatening. And a scratchy feeling at the base of my throat and aching incisors are the reward for my efforts.Fantastic.
“Yes, thank you. It’s lovely. The entire estate is.”
I nod, absently.
Sharing my living quarters with a vulnerable mortal never has struck me as a problem. But I’m realizing what a delicate situation this is. I’ve never imagined being so attracted to a human before. It’s more than just her blood I find myself wanting, and while controlling my appetite has always been something I pride myself on, this hunger is different. It’s darker. More insistent. It claws at me with need. I think of a word that starts with f and ends with k.
Mrs. Potts serves the first course, it’s a shallow bowl of creamy soup with a swirl of truffle oil glistening on the top.
“So, the man here earlier…” Tressa begins, lifting her spoon from the place setting.
“That was my brother, Alastair. He’s younger by three years, and a bit of a handful.”
Her cheeks turn rosy.
I know then that she overheard me shout to him about enjoying the whorehouse. I probably could have phrased that better, but it is too late now.
Introducing Alastair to Tressa will be a bad idea no matter which way you slice it. Her thinking poorly of him may not be such a bad thing. With any luck, she’ll keep her distance.
As I gaze upon her, unbidden warring emotions stir inside of me.
