Page 88 of The Awakening
“Do you ever call him?”
“No.”
“Hm. He genuinely cares about you, but old Cy is here to properly look after our man. You’ve only been a vampire for four months, Jae—andI’m older than you. You’ll live on, but until the day I die I will always be older than you. Don’t ever forget that. Respect your elder.”
“God, that’s depressing.” I frown. “You’re such a weird chap, you know that?”
Cyrus chuckles, walking toward the door. “Of course I am. My best mate is a fucking purebred vampire. There must be some side effects from being around you my entire life… like constantly standing in front of a microwave.”
Shaking my head, I close my journal and place it aside, then grab my mouse and maneuver to the application for my virtual meeting.
Jun and I, well, we talk fairly often. He calls or messages me, and sometimes we video chat if our schedules match up.
My body… This new body is constantly talking to me. Not literally, but I have urges and sensations and very strong reactions to things. If I’ve gone too long without feeding, it makes this fact very clear. My throat aches and my incisors pulse and throb. I start to get that dried-out-sponge feeling, which scares the shit out of me. I still have PTSD from that first time.
I know now that all of this communication comes from my “nature.” The twisty, melty thing that’s always been in my gut is all through me, and it’snoisy. Especially if I’m talking to or even thinking about Junichi. Just hearing his voice instantly sparks the visceral memories I have from being in his presence: what it felt like to be near his warmth and tangled between his thick legs on his cool sheets with the smell of him all around me. The taste of his sweet, lavender and earthy blood. Having his large hands sliding up and down my back or across my stomach—the intense pleasure of him pulsing inside me as his lips brush against mine.
All of it rushes back to me and consumes me, my nature writhing and having a fit from want of it. But I have to sit there and pretend like none of it is happening. Like I’m not about to burst at the seams from this intense desire for this creature that I cannot have. That helped to awaken me but doesn’t want anything to do with me because of what I am.
It’s shit, honestly.
I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders. I don’t like thinking about Junichi because there’s absolutely nothing I can do about that situation. I’ve shown him all my cards. I trusted him and was completely open with him. I kissed him with everything I had and I never held back—dancing bachata with him and cooking in his house. Buying new clothes and climbing into his lap after he’d bitten himself for me. Pathetic. I’ve had four months to obsess over my behavior, and every time I think back, I cringe. I feel like a complete idiot.
When you love someone like that and put your all into it but they don’t reciprocate, that’s all there is. I’d be a fool to keep chasing after him when he doesn’t want me. I’m not doing it anymore.
* * *
I orderblood from a company called Premablood. This company has been around for a long time and was created to help discourage low-level vampires from randomly feeding off and attacking humans. It’s worked well, actually. But they don’t advertise in every country. In some markets they aren’t needed because the vampire population is high and the community takes care of itself. For instance, in Japan, it isn’t necessary, and I’ve never recommended it or used it for my patients.
In England, however, this company is absolutely necessary.
They never get requests from purebreds, so they needed to mix a unique blend of synthetic blood to meet my nutritional needs. And that’s all it does—meets my basic, fundamental needs. It’s nothing like when I would feed from Junichi. Imagine getting a plastic bag of cold, congealed, factory-made gravy with no spices. It’s like that. If I warm it up, the consistency is a little better, but it still tastes like nothing.
I went to London two months ago to visit Cy. He always makes the trek out here to see me, but he finally talked me into coming into the city and going out with him. Haruka asked me to keep a low profile, and I do. But Cy kept pestering me.
Anyway, I ended up meeting a woman. Second-gen. Technically, her bloodline isn’t high enough to satisfy me. Haruka explained as much before I left Japan (which he was not pleased about). The woman and I talked at the bar, one thing led to another, and she offered herself and I tried. She tasted better than the bags, but I felt wretched the next day. Horrible stomachache and chills. It’s like my nature was irate, screaming, “Let’s not do that ever again, please!”
When I’m done with my meeting and head downstairs, Cy has the pizza on the table in the breakfast nook and a mug of warm synthetic blood is beside my plate. He thinks he needs to come out here and check on me like this, but I’m alright. I’m just working on the surrogacy program and seeing patients virtually. That’s all there is.
“How was the meeting?” Cy is standing over the sink, cleaning out the pot he used to heat my blood and looking over his shoulder. “Are all the surrogate things in order?”
I sit at the table and take hold of the cup. My teeth are starting to pulse, which is the worst. I take a quick sip of the warm, bland liquid. “Yes. I haven’t told them yet, but we’ve found a match for our test couple. However, now that the surrogate knows who she’ll be carrying for, she’s refusing payment. We’re having a small battle with her about it. We need to set a standard for how much vamps will be compensated—you know, get a sense of the typical expectation. She’s not helping.”
“Maybe this will be the typical situation?” When he’s finished at the sink, he dries his hands and comes to the breakfast nook, sitting on the bench opposite me. He grabs a slice and lifts his chin. “Eat.”
“I’m not going to simultaneously drink blood and eat pizza.” The thought turns my stomach. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to eat. As time goes on, my body and senses become sharper and more vampiric. I don’t have a strong urge to eat like before, but it’s fine. Eating got in the way, taking up time and energy. Now, I can just heat up a cup of blood and keep working.
We sit in silence, with Cy eating his slice of pizza and me staring into space and cupping my mug in my palms, occasionally bringing it to my mouth. When Cy is down to the crust, he says, “Are you at least feeling a little more excited about Italy and the wedding next month?”
“Not particularly.”
“Ah, Jae, it’s your big introduction to the aristocracy! Maybe it won’t be as awful as you’re assuming? Maybe seeing Daddy Long Legs in person will be nice?”
I lift my mug and down the last sip of blood. It’s lukewarm now. And tasteless. Sure. It will be nice to see Junichi. To pretend as if we’re just best mates—like he hasn’t ever been inside me. Looking forward to that.
Everyone who’s anyone will be at Cellina and Giovanni’s wedding next month. The two of them bonded last year, but the formal ceremony will be in Lombardy at a resort off Lake Como. I searched for images of it on the Internet and it’s like something out of a fairy tale. Somewhere I don’t belong. Haruka and Nino will also be there, of course, but they can’t babysit me, can they? So, no. I’m not looking forward to wandering around by myself, or talking to strange creatures three times my age.
My plan is to bring a nice present (what do you give as a gift to creatures who’ve been living for over a century? A new watch?), greet everyone properly, then store myself in a corner and out of the way.
