Page 68 of Heathens

“You want a drink?”

“Please.”

Dominic picks up a bottle of wine that looks older than Ruby and I combined, popping the cork out with his claw. I watch him sniff at it for a moment, savoring the aroma before he pours us each a glass.

“I haven’t started cooking the meat yet. I realized I still needed to ask you how you like your steak.”

“I haven’t even seen a steak in five years, let alone eaten one.”

I take a sip of wine and groan. It’s delicious, oaky, and heavy on my tongue. I catch small hints of berries and an almost jam-like quality. Back before everything went to shit, Sam used to have a pretty extensive wine collection. It was mostly an excuse for me to get drunk, but I learned a few things from him.

“Well, I thought after what you provided me last night, you deserve a proper meal of your own.”

“You must have had someone drive pretty goddamn far to get that food. As far as I know, no one in the city’s got anything anywhere near a steak dinner.” I pause and smile. “And I like it medium rare. Thanks for asking.”

He lifts his wine glass to his lips.

“Perfect.”

Dominic places the glass carefully on the counter, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair. He rolls up his shirt sleeves to expose his heavily tattooed arms, pulling out different utensils ‌from the cabinets.

I follow him around the kitchen like a pathetic little puppy dog until I finally force myself to sit down at a bar stool while he rummages around in the fridge. I spot bags of blood, almost identical to the stock that we get from The Bank. I wonder if he has humans make runs for him, or if they actually let him inside the building, but I decide not to ask. It’s really not what I’m most interested in tonight anyway.

For a little while I stay silent, simply watching him glide through the kitchen, but soon I feel the silence weighing down the room.

“I didn’t know vampires cared about cooking.”

He takes out a large knife, flipping it in his hand. He chops up some rosemary and slices off a knob of butter, tossing it into a hot pan. It crackles and sizzles from the heat, and the smell gets more intense.

“You know, we worked side by side with you before everything went to shit. Some of us even worked in kitchens. None of you ever really knew.”

I smirk, lighting a cigarette.

“Oh yeah, licking blood off the floor?”

He laughs.

“Not my style.”

“I’m just teasing.”

“I know. You do that a lot.”

I wet my lips.

“You seem to like it.”

He places the knife on the counter, the tiniest inkling of a smirk on his face as he struts toward me. The moonlight’s hitting him at the perfect angle, carving out his cheekbones as a few strands of dark hair fall into his eyes. I have to resist the urge to brush it away.

“Is that what you think, little dove?”

I inhale deeply and blow a smoke ring as his eyes land on the vein pulsing in my neck. My heart rate has stabilized since I stepped in here, but it’s still running significantly faster than normal.

“I think if you wanna get laid tonight, you should make me one hell of a steak.”

He reaches out to cup my cheek, and I shiver beneath his cool fingers. His touch is electric.

“You really make a guy work for it, huh?”

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