Coven of Ill Repute: A Gothic Romance by S. L. Prater

Author:S. L. Prater [Prater, S. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2024-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Vampires cannot dine on just any blood. Much like one develops a taste for certain foods, they can only partake from those whose lifeforce is appealing. Similarly, there seems to be a reciprocal condition inherent in their source of sustenance. The more attractive the vampire is to the bloodletter, the higher quality the meal. All data gathered regarding vampire feeding habits are anecdotal. Further study is required.

-A Witch’s Guide to the Arcane

Rorick

The steady thump of Quiet’s heart was loud in my ears. “I feel like I haven’t had a drink in weeks,” I confessed.

The organ in her chest raced, the pump of it as alluring as it was alarming. She stepped away from me, bumping into the bed at her back. “Damnit, Rorick—”

“You have nothing to fear from me. Absolutely nothing. Look. I’m not injured this time,” I soothed, indicating my unharmed chest with a sweeping gesture where a gargoyle hadn’t clawed down my front, baring bits of my ribs. I held up my unmarked wrists. “No one’s drained me near dry of my magic. It’s not like it was before.”

Her gray eyes narrowed. “But you have a fever! What will happen to you?”

I shrugged. “I won’t die, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll start to feel weaker slowly. Worst-case scenario, I might slip unconscious.”

“Unconscious!” She threw her hands up in the air.

“It’ll be fine! It won’t happen suddenly. We’ll know it’s coming. You’ll get us out, and if you don’t before I go under, you could always tuck me away in here and come back for me.”

She hit me again. I barely felt it, but I grunted to make her feel better about the punishment. Quiet let out a string of colorful, blasphemous expletives right into my face. I probably deserved all of them.

Then she pointed her middle finger at me.

I probably deserved that too, though it made me cackle like I didn’t.

“I hadn’t planned to get trapped in a haunted castle that’s slowly turning itself into . . . something else,” I said, voice wobbling over the sheer bizarreness of our situation. “I would have stopped for a bite if I’d realized the ramifications.”

Meals were complicated for me. I was highly selective about my diet and could only tolerate certain qualities in my donors: cleanliness, attractiveness, intelligence were top priorities. Sometimes I could dine on someone I didn’t know well, as long as they didn’t open their mouth too soon to reveal they were an absolute idiot. Connection seemed to make the meal more fulfilling and nourishing. I really didn’t know what cleverness had to do with my stomach, but my body insisted upon it.

Which was exactly why it was so adamant that it needed Quiet’s blood now. I’d never met a more capable woman, and there was no one else in my life I’d ever been more connected to.

She let out a long, pained exhale, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If I bleed into a glass—”

“It would be like giving me lumpy, spoiled milk. I can’t drink dead blood.

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