One week.
Seven days.
It’s not that long to go without sex.
“What’s wrong?” Ella asks, sitting down beside me.
“I’d be oversharing if I told you,” I grumble, glancing out the window where Chaz and Zee are talking to some guy that showed up today.
“That’s my dad,” Ella says, pointing.
“Him? He looks my age. I’m only twenty-four.”
She laughs lightly. “He has quite a few more years to him than it looks like. We don’t age.”
I knew that, but… I guess knowing it and seeing it are two different things.
“And that’s my grandfather.”
She points to another guy that is walking up, and I shake my head in disbelief. He looks just as young. He also looks sexy. Grandfathers are not sexy. But he has the dangerous bad boy vibe that Zee puts off.
“I hope he looks scarier than he is.”
“Nah. He’s crazy as hell. Don’t piss him off.”
She turns around, and flips through another one of those old books. They’re constantly reading them.
“Where have they been?”
She tenses, then shrugs it off like it’s nothing. “We’ve divided into teams to take care of different things. Our focus is on finding these people.”
“Should I be training or something? I’m mortal. The book said I can die any mortal way.”
“We’re trying to set up a meeting with Slade. Zee wants you out of this. You have a chance for a normal life. He wants that for you.”
A pang of disappointment hits me. Normal would be easy, and it’s what I wanted. But…
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, not moving her eyes off the book. “It’s Zee’s call. You’re his. Not mine.”
I hate the way they act like people belong to people.
“I’m not his. I belong to myself. I want to help you.”
“You want to stay close to Zee,” she corrects, arching an eyebrow when she turns to look at me. “And I’d be all for that, if he wasn’t so worried about siring you. Talk to him about it.”
Frowning, I look back out the window. “He’s barely spoken to me unless we have a room full of people around us.”
“Talk to him,” she repeats, shutting the book as she stands up. “I’ll help get you alone with him. Head upstairs. He’s probably starving by now. I haven’t seen him eat all week. If you want him, you’re going to have to bleed for him.”
That has me swallowing for a multitude of reasons. “Just bleed. Don’t let him drink from you. That won’t result in talking.”
She laughs as she walks away, and I try to figure out what that means. Then it hits me, and I feel stupid. Grabbing a glass, I head upstairs. I might be mortal, but the book did say I could lose a lot more blood than the average human and still live just fine.
I slice my wrist, wincing the entire time, and watch as the blood pours into the glass. Oh, that’s so gross.
I have to look away, and I hear footsteps as the door opens.
“Ella, what did you—”