Page 7 of Taste of Forever
After finishing the forms, I discreetly checked my phone to make sure it was still recording, then returned to the front desk.
“All set?” The man, brusang, whatever he was, took my clipboard and released the forms.
“I had a question about the second page, actually.”
“Yes?”
“Why do you take this information?” I ran my finger down the list of questions. “The first page makes sense, but what do my eye color, hair color, and sexual orientation have to do with giving blood?”
“Our recipients sometimes have preferences. Taste is a very subjective thing, and we try to match recipients with donors that align closely with their preferences. We’ve also noticed that compatible sexual orientations tend to have the most satisfying feedings. So”—he glanced at my sheet—“you will most likely be paired with a heterosexual male.”
“But this is purely about blood, right? Nothing…sexual.” These so-called preferences made me uneasy. Human blood, down to its molecular components, was by and large the same stuff in every single person. What did physical traits and sexual orientation have to do with it?
“Yes, absolutely.” The brusang nodded emphatically. “Our job is to facilitate a safe feeding ground for both donor and recipient. Nothing goes on here besides providing a basic biological need. As the third page says, staff members are present at all times on both sides of the room. Your identity is kept secret during the whole process.”
My phone felt like a brick in my thigh pocket. Conversations about blood donation were one thing, but I needed proof of an actual feeding. It was now or never.
“Okay,” I said with a nod. “What’s next?”
“Great! Come on back.” He walked out from behind the desk, opening a door for me as he scanned my paperwork. “Nice to meet you, Jamie. I’m Cedric.”
I smiled to acknowledge the fake name I had written on my form. “Thanks for helping me out with this.”
“No problem. Sanguine is pretty small, so we don’t get many new donors these days. It’s nice to shake things up once in a while.”
Cedric led me down a hallway to a small, typical doctor’s office-looking room, complete with an exam room chair covered in a layer of tissue paper. I sat there while he took the rolling stool and pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves.
Nerves settled in and made me fidgety. My fingers played in my lap while my gaze bounced all over the room. The stretching sound of gloves over fingers and wrists became deafening in the otherwise silent room. I blurted out the first thing on my mind in order to fill the silence.
“So, how did you end up becoming a brusang?”
Cedric froze in the middle of opening a drawer. “Um, well.” He gave an awkward laugh. “I got hit by a car and died.”
Horrified, I slapped a hand to my open mouth. “Oh my God! That’s awful.” I cringed, realizing my mistake. “That’s not really something people go around asking, is it? I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right. You didn’t know any better.” Cedric closed the drawer and finished assembling the device he’d taken out. “But yeah, it’s not really polite conversation. All brusang are humans who were near death or had recently died before being fed vampire blood. Then, if we’re lucky, we wake up looking like this.” He gestured to his face, grinning broadly to show off his fangs. In the brighter lights, the contrast between his brown irises and the black areas of his eyes was more apparent.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. I was morbidly curious about how that process worked but didn’t want to risk being rude again. He’d already given me one pass. “For being inappropriate and, um, for your death too.”
“Ah, it’s fine. That was almost thirty years ago now. It doesn’t haunt me like it used to.”
Thirty years? He looked barely thirty himself.
“I’m going to take a blood sample now, if you don’t mind.” Cedric held up the device he had put together, which just looked like a die with one side missing. “It’ll just be a little poke on your index finger.”
“Okay.”
He wiped the tip of my finger with an alcohol swab, slid the cube over my fingertip, then pulled it away as I felt a single sharp prick. I got a band-aid over the small cut, and that was that. It was all very efficient and professional.
“Great. Now let’s see what your blood has to say.”
Cedric inserted the cube into another device that sat on the desk, and watched the computer screen as my sample was analyzed.
I fought the burning curiosity to peek over his shoulder, to rummage through the drawers and inspect the machinery for myself. Was it comparable to what we used at work? The laws of physics seemed to work the same in this world, so the equipment had to be similar. The rapid-testing machine Cedric used looked almost familiar, something I could probably figure out, but I had never seen or used that exact model before.
“Your blood looks good,” he mused, scrolling through the onscreen results. “All within normal ranges. Your vitamin D looks a little low for someone from Shadowburn, though.” He gave me a teasing look. “The dragons don’t let you outside that much?”
I forced a laugh. At some point I’d have to find out what these so-called dragon shifters were. Surely notactualdragons, right?
