Page 69 of Bite Me

“That’s why you helped me, then . . . ?”

“Yeah.” That’s the simplest way of putting it.

“I guess this means you still won’t tell me about what happened in the kitchen.”

Shit. I almost forgot about that. I’d tried so hard to forget.

“I don’t want to get you involved in my shit. But yes, the guy you saw exists. He’s a . . . friend of the family. And I do have a little sister. She’s sixteen, and I think she’s mostly safe from that man you saw. So, no need to worry.”

The edges of her smile tug upward. Knowing Emma, she wants to ask me more, but the blood loss must be affecting her. Her eyes are heavy as she fingers my napkin in her hand.

“Keep that. You need to sleep.” I stand up despite the urge to stay. “Maybe next time, I won’t be so careless and bite you in the middle of a public area.”

It’s her sacred space, and not only does it smell amazing, but it’s also filled to the brim with interesting things about her I want to learn.

“Next time? There’s no next time. You explained it to me. I get it now. Let’s leave it like that.”

“You’re sure?”

She bites her lip and throws the napkin. “I’m sure. Now get out of my room.”

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Emma

It’s pure luck that I’m able to hide the bite mark on my neck long enough for it to heal. My family doesn’t suspect a thing when I commit to turtleneck sweaters for a week. I try to avoid them, but not so much that they become suspicious. None of them notice, not even when I barely touch my food or quietly meander my way through every conversation. They’ve got their own problems. Dad doesn’t notice a thing when I bring him his morning crepes and they’re a little burned.

My first endeavor was research. Doxlothia has a huge library with just about anything you could want to know about, but scent-matches is a specialty topic. From what I have learned, it only happens with full-blooded vampires, and they still haven’t figured out why. There’s nothing I can do about being attracted to the man who hates me.

At least I know the reason why we can never seem to get along. He probably sees me as a distraction, some girl who came in at the worst time to . . . I don’t know, keep him from being super rich or something. I haven’t asked him any more questions because I’ve officially started ignoring him.

It’s working, too. He tried to say good morning to me, and I gave him the cold shoulder. If that’s not retribution, I don’t know what is.

This morning, though, I skip one of my classes to have enough time to eat with Kitty after breakfast ends. After the breakfast rush, it’s a cold banquet of grain cereals and yogurt, but I welcome the quiet as we sit in a nearly empty dining hall.

“Can I ask you something?” I close my eyes, enjoying the blissful crunch of the first bite of cereal. “What’s it like for you . . . when you donate?”

I’ve never seen her so much as huff about the obligation.

She speaks between bites of granola. “Well . . . donating with blood bags is virtually painless.”

“What about . . . with biting involved?”

“I already know where you’re going with this. You’ve been reading too many of those Donor Program love stories.”

“No, no, I’m just curious how it feels for you.”

“It’s a business transaction for me. They get what they need; I get my benefits. I don’t feel anything. I just wait for it to be done, and the limit per donee makes it so you don’t really get attached like that. I see them for a few minutes each month, that’s it.”

“Oh, so there’s no feeling involved?”

“Are you asking me if I get off on it?” Kitty smiles, eating a spoonful of yogurt.

“No! I’m just curious.”

“I know what you’re thinking about. Dacre.”