Page 53 of The Awakening
“Will you try, please?” He’s staring at me with his pitch-black eyes as he leans in, but he stops. Waiting for me to meet him. To comply. I can see the blood pooling just inside as he parts his lips.
My throat is tight and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I lean in—just a quick touch of my lips to his. I pull back, hesitating and feeling utterly insane. I didn’t even taste anything. He cups my face between his hands and tilts his head, pressing our mouths together.
He urges me to part my lips, his tongue softly sliding into me as I open wider, and I taste him. His blood is just as it was before—fresh and woodsy. Inexplicable, like wintery forest air and lavender.
Instinctively, I close my eyes and give in to it, wanting more because it tastes so good. Not like blood at all. Not coppery or salty. It’s delicious in the heat of our mouths and I start chasing after it. He pulls me again and I slide off the sofa to straddle his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck—frantically wanting both him and the taste of him because it soothes me.
He breaks the kiss and my breath catches. My heart is going wild and I want everything from him. Anything. Something. He brings his hand up to his mouth. I watch as his fangs slowly appear, elongate as if by magic into thick, sharp white points. They’re honestly beautiful, and I’m mesmerized as he bites into the side of his palm. There are two pools of blood there when he’s done, threatening to drip and run down his flesh. My eyes are flickering between his irises and his palm.
“You need more,” he says, perfectly calm. The blood is running now because I’ve waited too long. Hesitating, I bring his hand to my mouth, all the while beside myself at what I’m actually about to do and how senseless it is. Psycho. Someone should lock me up and throw away the key immediately after.
I drag my tongue up the trail of liquid, cleaning until I reach the epicenter. The path tastes the same as the previous two times I’ve had him, so I wrap my lips around his bite marks. It’s so fulfilling, like having a whole basket of chips to yourself after stealing only one or two from your friend’s basket for the past ten minutes. I feel greedy and I have the nerve to suck, like I actually know what I’m doing. When the flow stops, I pull my head up, indignant. The holes have closed and healed over. I blink up at him. “Wh-why?”
He laughs, even though, as far as I can tell, nothing is funny. “You want more now?”
“No.” I shake my head, rubbing my palm down my face. “I… Jun, this is too much—”
He bumps me up with his hips, bringing me even closer into his body. “You can have more, if you tell me you want it.” He’s kissing my jawline, then up to my ear and down my neck. His hands are wrapped around my arse, holding me into him. He feels solid and secure, like he’s got me and I can trust him. Like… for once in a very long time, I’m not just on my own.
I inhale a deep breath, deciding to let myself lean on someone. To try, anyway. “I want it,” I tell him. “I… I do.”
Twenty-Four
Jae
In my mind, Haruka is a bit like the Pope. Except much younger and Japanese… beautiful and queer with a gorgeous, sun-kissed husband.
Alright then, maybe not like the Pope at all.
Heisregal. Patient and kind. Something radiates from him, quiet and elegant, that tells me he’s on a different playing field. All ranked vampires have this, but Haruka with his burgundy eyes and cool demeanor makes me feel like I’m in the presence of a very old soul. A king. Someone totally unfit for my shabby flat. He’s sitting with me at the kitchen table. Junichi occupies the third seat.
“You have been a vampire since the day you were born, Jae,” Haruka explains, his mesmerizing eyes focused on me. “You were never truly human.”
He pauses. I have no idea what to say to that. “Alright…”
“Can you accept this?” he asks.
“Well…” I sit up straighter, rolling my shoulders. “I’ve been happily sipping Junichi’s blood for the past twenty-four hours, so I’m definitely not human like I thought. Humans don’t generally do that… If they do, they’re considered mental.”
“Correct.” Haruka nods. “Do you find yourself enjoying the experience?”
Junichi purses his lips, frowning. “I feel like that’s a very personal question.” Haruka rolls his eyes. I stifle the urge to chuckle.
“Yes,” I say. “I do… Why is this happening to me? Why now?”
“I have already expressed this to Jun, because he has asked the same question,” Haruka says. “Based on what I know of vampiric natures and forming romantic bonds, it is likely that your natures are highly compatible—which is why your scent registers so strongly to Junichi, and why this emergence is occurring within you now. It is as if something about Junichi is compelling your blood to awaken and flourish. Like magnets.”
Forming romantic bonds…Shit. I nod, vaguely understanding what all that means. I don’t know exactly how vampire bonds are formed, but I do know they’re serious business. Not like a human marriage where you can just “grow apart” or cite “irreconcilable differences” in a swift divorce. You’re supposed to be in a vampire bond for life. You link up your genetic code with this person who perfectly matches you, and you match them, so don’t be an idiot and try to look elsewhere or you’ll die.
Distracted, I look up at Junichi. “What do I smell like—”
“Not right now, please.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence before Haruka shakes his head at Junichi and continues. “I feel that while your interaction with Junichi has undoubtedly stirred your nature, your bloodline was already in a state of unrest. You mentioned feeling ‘twisty and weird,’ or ‘anxious,’ around us?”
“Yes. Since I moved to Japan, it’s been worse than ever.”
“Vampiric bloodlines, particularly those higher in nature, are innately drawn to each other. We are creatures who flourish in a community. As such, we naturally gravitate toward our own kind. Where there is a purebred, other ranked vampires eventually follow. Your living here as opposed to England—where there are no purebreds and few ranked vampires—has also likely roused your burgeoning nature.”
