Page 34 of The Feeder Legacy

“No.” I shake my head. “I ate today. I promise that won’t ever happen again.”

He hesitates, his fingertips brushing my throat, and I realise he’s checking my pulse. Wow, I mess up one time, and nobody wants to trust me anymore. Eventually, he stands and moves away, his hand sliding from my shoulder.

“I wonder if I could ask a favour of you,” he says as he heads toward his desk.

A favour? Not what I was expecting him to say. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

He picks up a pen and twiddles it between his fingers. “I understand that Clive hasn’t been very welcoming to you.”

Oh, crap. Am I supposed to agree? It’s true, but that feels a lot like dobbing. “Not sure where you got that idea,” I say finally, even though we both know he heard Clive yelling at me earlier. Vampire hearing, man. It’s bullshit.

His mouth twitches. Was that… a smile? No way.

“I ask that you give him some time to adjust and show patience in the meanwhile. I appreciate your restraint this morning.”

I am so fucking confused. “Sure. I mean, he doesn’t have to like me. We can get along when we have to.” I hope.

Tristan nods. “Thank you. I believe your dinner is ready.”

That’s a dismissal if ever I’ve heard one, so I make for the door, still trying to work out what the hell just happened.

Chapter 17

Anna puts the car in park, and I have my seat belt off and door open before she can turn off the engine.

“Thank you! Pick me up in three hours?” I feel like a total prick saying it, and her arrested expression reveals she wasn’t expecting to hear it, but there is zero chance of me letting her come inside with me. Zero.

I don’t give her time to suggest that she could, closing the door and waving cheerily as I head up the front path. This next part is tricky, since I know she won’t drive off until I’m safely inside, and that gives her too much time to decide that maybe she should ask if she can come in. I really don’t want to have to say no to her face, but I won’t have any other option. She can’t meet my parents.

Luckily, I still have my key to the house. My parents didn’t ask for it back when I moved out, and I’m too lazy to have ever taken it off the keyring. It’s in my hand as I approach the door, and I’m inside within seconds. I hear the car driving off as I close the door behind me.

“It’s me,” I call, then remember how long it’s been since I visited and add, “Adam.”

There’s a shocked silence before I hear the scrape of a chair against the floor and Mum calls, “Adam?”

She appears in the kitchen doorway as I walk down the corridor, her eyes wide with surprise that’s quickly replaced by a worried frown. “Has something happened? Are you okay?”

There’s probably a message in the fact that I visit so infrequently that her first thought is that something’s wrong. The more important message, though, is that she’s right. I lasted less than a day before I decided I needed answers sooner than I’d be able to get them from Cat. Who else did I know who was familiar with the vampire-slash-feeder world and knew that I hadn’t grown up in it? My parents, that’s who. So I launched a cunning plan. Phase one: Tell Anna I wanted to visit them. Phase two: Make sure my dad’s taken his blood pressure medication. Phase three: Tell them what I’ve been up to this week and ask a million questions.

It’s foolproof. Absolutely cannot fail.

“Hi, Mum.” I smile as I reach her, bending my head to drop a kiss on her cheek. “Dad here?”

I know he will be. My parents are creatures of habit, and it’s Saturday. On Saturday mornings, they like to sleep late, then linger over brunch while they catch each other up on how their weeks have been. They both work stupidly long hours during the week, plus they have separate hobbies and friends they like to spend time with, but they’ve always reserved Saturday for spending time together. I’ve never been able to decide if it’s a sign of a healthy marriage or not.

“I’m here,” Dad says as I step past Mum. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in front of him, wearing the same concerned frown as Mum. “Were we expecting you today?”

“Nope.” I’ve already had two cups of coffee this morning, so I grab a glass from the cupboard over the sink and help myself to the bottle of juice on the table instead, sliding into a chair across from Dad as I do.

He and Mum exchange a glance as she retakes her seat. “It’s good to see you,” she offers. “How have things been?”

Ah, the perfect opening.

“Well, I lost my job on Tuesday,” I begin, but don’t give them time to say anything before continuing, “It’s okay, though, because Cat—you remember me telling you about Cat, right? Catrina Barale, my cousin?”

They exchange another glance, and this time they both look a little unsteady. Dad takes a big gulp of coffee.

“Anyway, Cat said she had an idea for a job for me, and then she told me⁠—”