Page 51 of Bleed

“If our younger selves could see us now, hm?” she replies with a smirk.

“They’d think we became hookers.”

She winces. “Not entirely inaccurate.”

I bark a laugh and she immediately dissolves into giggles with me, James side-eyeing us like the judgmental bastard he is.

Yeah, this is exactly what I needed.

James murmurs something to Elliott and gestures toward the fully-stocked bar occupying the far side of the room. The two of them head that way, leaving Taylor and I lingering near the doorway. She pivots to face me, her smile slowly fading.

“How are you?” she asks, brows pinching together in concern.

“Never better,” I lie, my fingers absently fiddling with my Bite bracelet.

“Bex.”

“Seriously, I’m good,” I chuckle, waving her off. “Can’t really bitch about living in a downtown penthouse, eating like a queen, and having more free time than I even know what to do with. I’ve done more drawing over the past week than I have in six months.”

Now that I’m saying it out loud, it feels ridiculous to be anything but thrilled about this whole thing. I mean, what’s there to complain about? That I’m financially secure for the first time in my life? That nobody’s exploiting me for my blood? That I somehow landed on easy street and still haven’t figured out how to enjoy it?

My gaze drifts across the room, landing on Elliott. He’s standing at the bar with James, one hand resting against the polished wood while the other adjusts the cuff of his suit jacket in a restless, absent gesture. His eyes flicker in my direction, and I instantly avert my own, dragging my attention back to Taylor.

“Probably helps that you can draw what you want now instead of cliché shit for tattoo clients, huh?” she asks, smoothing her hair over one shoulder.

“I mean, I still have to get those done,” I mutter.

Her brow creases. “Huh?”

“I didn’t quit my job at the shop,” I explain. “Just cut back my hours. Took this week off to settle in, but I’ll be back next week.”

“But why?” she asks, looking genuinely baffled by my life choices.

“Because I like it,” I reply with a shrug. “Besides, Ronnie and the guys would be lost without me.”

Taylor huffs a laugh, but her attention shifts past me toward the bar. She watches the guys for a second before leaning in, eyes wide. “Does he know?”

“Who, Elliott?”

She gives me a pointed look like the ‘he’ should be obvious.

“Yeah,” I scoff. “He knows. Well, his assistant knows, anyway. He said he’d work my schedule in the lab around it.”

Taylor’s brows lift.

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she murmurs, averting her gaze in a way that’s too damn cagey for my liking.

“Tay.” I level her with a deadpan stare.

She glances toward the men again, then sighs as she turns back to me. “I just… I guess I’m surprised. You’re his source now, and vamps are crazy possessive over what they deem as theirs.”

“You mean your vamp’s crazy possessive,” I correct. “Because you’ve got that weird bond shit going on and you’re basically dosing him with supernatural steroids every time he bites you.”

She wrinkles her nose. “God, when you put it like that, it sounds so…”

“Accurate?” I supply.