Page 13 of Bite
Glancing down at my phone, my eyes snag on the clock icon in the upper corner.
“Shit, I’ve gotta go,” I mutter, pulling open the mirror to place the tube of Rapi-Gen on the shelf in the medicine cabinet. “I’ve got my follow-up with Fran at nine.”
“Ooh, have fun with the robot,” Bex teases. “Call me later?”
“Will do,” I say before tapping the end call button, nerves already flaring to life in my stomach.
I swing the mirror closed, checking my reflection and sweeping my hair in front of my shoulders to cover up the bite mark on my neck. Then I swipe on some lip balm, grab my purse, and hustle downstairs to the black car already waiting for me at the curb.
They’re really spoiling me with all these free rides.
Fifteen minutes later, the perky receptionist at Bite is leading me down the hall to Francesca’s pristine office, where she greets me with that perfectly polished smile.
“Welcome back, Miss Holt,” she says smoothly, gesturing to the chair across her desk. “Please, have a seat. I’m eager to hear about your first engagement.”
I slowly lower myself onto the chair as she picks up a tablet, swiping at the screen.
“The client gave you an excellent review. He indicated you were polite, punctual, a touch reserved, but very palatable.”
I blink. “Palatable?”
“A compliment,” she says with a smile. “How do you feel? Any boundaries crossed? Anything that made you uncomfortable?”
My fingers drift up to the side of my neck, instinctively tracing over the bite mark. “The whole thing was kinda uncomfortable,” I murmur.
Her gaze drops to my neck. “I see you’ve been applying the Rapi-Gen.”
“Yeah,” I reply, letting my hand fall back to my lap.
“Good. We recommend application as soon as possible post-engagement. It helps with any tenderness and will also allow you to take engagements more frequently, as our clients prefer their donors with unmarked skin. You may also want to consider adding a regular iron supplement to your diet.”
“Sure,” I say with a tight nod.
“Do you have any questions, or any revisions you may want to make to your donor profile?” she asks coyly.
“Um…” I shift my weight on the chair, my stomach churning like it did last night on the way home. That strange mix of adrenaline, arousal, and shame I still haven’t made sense of.
Francesca leans a little closer, lips curving in a knowing smile. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Miss Holt,” she says gently, sliding smoothly from businesswoman to confidante in seconds. “Many of our donors are surprised to learn that feeding a vampire can be an enjoyable experience. It’s a biological response, nature’s way of ensuring the species’ survival. Just like the enzymes in a vampire’s saliva cause blood vessels to constrict and encourage platelet plug formation, stopping blood flow, the venom in their fangs boosts dopamineand serotonin receptors in the brain. Enjoying a bite is completely natural.”
“It is?” I breathe, relief crashing through me like a wave.
She nods, sitting back and picking up her tablet. She taps the screen a few times, then flips it toward me, showcasing a menu with a range of options. “Additional services are categorized here, with various compensation tiers. Again, you can choose any level you feel comfortable with or decline entirely.”
I glance at the list ranging from ‘companionship’ to ‘soft touch’ to ‘full service’, each bracket promising a different pay scale. The highest tier catches my eye– five figures for a single engagement. Enough to keep the lights on for months.
That kind of money is temping.Ridiculously tempting.
Francesca watches me closely, picking up on where my gaze has homed in. “I should mention, our top-tier clients are exceptionally discreet, but as with any high-value arrangement, there are risks. Our safety protocols are stringent, but no system is infallible.”
My throat tightens as I jerk my head up to meet her gaze, and in it, I can see what she isn’t saying.Safety not guaranteed.
“Perhaps you’d be interested in something mid-tier?” she prompts, tapping a fingernail against the middle of the screen. “Many donors find it rewarding. Empowering, even.”
I shake my head, heart pounding at a chaotic rhythm.
I should’ve known better than to let myself be tempted. I may be broke, but I’m not suicidal.
Then again, every bite is a risk.
