Page 65 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

“I suppose.”

I paused, taking a deep breath. “What if they have human partners?”

He sat up with a jolt, leaving me to fall face first into the cushions. “She should have kept her mouth shut,” he growled. “I would never ask that of you.”

I propped myself up on my elbows. “Oh.”

A flicker of anger rolled off of him. It stole my breath like a hand squeezing my throat. His face remained placid, but I caught sight of the dark pall that passed over his eyes.

And then, it was gone again.

I faltered, unsure if his anger was directed at me or at Genevieve. I hoped it was the latter. My heart thumped in my chest as he swept hair out of my eyes with disarmingly gentle fingers.

“Please don’t take any offense,” he said. “It’s true that feeding on each other can be common among vampires, but it’s only because there’s no real risk of them hurting each other. Humans and vampires, though, it can get dicey. That’s one of the reasons why it’s so rare for them to couple.”

“I thought that was because vampires live so much longer,” I replied.

“Well, that’s true in part, but it’s a rather romantic view of things.”

“Forgive me for being romantic,” I muttered.

He sighed. “Finn, I would never ask it of you, and I certainly don’t need to feed on you.”

“I know you don’t need to,” I said indignantly, “but don’t you want to?”

He massaged his brow, unfurling the creases that had formed there. “Do you want me to?”

The truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, whether it was because I wanted it or because Genevieve had successfully gotten under my skin, godsdamn her. “I’m curious, I suppose,” I mumbled.

He leaned toward me and ran his forefinger along my shoulder, the strap of my slip sliding off as he did so. Several quiet moments passed between us before he locked me in a gaze so intense that I felt as if I might wilt.

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it.” He kissed my shoulder, letting his fangs graze my skin. “Genevieve is right. To share blood is considered an act of great intimacy among my kind.”

My thoughts drifted to Lady Kerr, the dark-haired vampiress whose rooms I had cleaned all those months ago. Her human companion had appeared to bear the marks of her fangs proudly, as if they were a symbol of their love. Or lust.

“You might consider it a remnant from our past lives,” he said.

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know much about the history of our species?”

I nodded. Valen didn’t shy away from its history, and the ancient relationships between our peoples were well-known and recorded.

“Then you know that in the beginning vampires considered humans to be no more than cattle, pardon the comparison, and their lives worth even less,” he explained.

I ignored the unease that coiled in the pit of my stomach. “I do.”

“Fortunately, our tastes have expanded,” he continued.

“To roast lamb?” I teased.

He smirked. “Among other delicacies. Thousands of years before Valen existed, vampires realized that we didn’t need human blood alone to survive. We evolved, relying on food and drink instead, and gaining the trust of humans in the process. Now, blood is shared for pleasure, rather than survival.”

“Shared?” I echoed in a small voice.

He nodded. “If I fed from you, then it would be considered impolite to refuse you the opportunity to do the same. We call it blood debt.”

The skin of my cheeks burned. It was difficult to imagine that blood could be anything but the bitter, coppery stuff that flowed through my veins. But curiosity razed through me like a wildfire.