The Blood is Love (Dark Eyes 2)

“I mean, you’ve been Solon’s property from day one,” Amethyst adds. “He likes to have his control, but not enough to let Wolf brand you with his dick before he got a chance. Then again, I don’t know what the hell goes on in your vampire lover’s head, so I might be wrong about that. Vampires are a weird bunch when it comes to sex anyway, like it’s seriously not a big deal to them. Guess that’s what happens when you live for that long—you see a lot, you do a lot. Hey look, I got a car just two minutes away.”

I ponder that while we wait. Solon is definitely possessive, but he’s open-minded when it comes to sex, and I think as a vampire you have to be. Guess there’s something erotically charged about bloodsucking and feeding off each other. Vampires are probably pretty adept at separating physical acts from emotional ones.

But I’m not like that. And Solon knows that too.

A Prius pulls up shortly and the two of us get in the back seat, but while Amethyst is chatting to the driver about the SF Giants (who knew she was a baseball fan?), the alcohol is coursing through my veins, mixing all my emotions up, the tequila feeding anger. All this time and Solon never said anything? He knew I had the wrong impression about what happened, and he still went with it.

It’s not long before our ride drops us off at the house and we’re walking in through the front door.

“I’m going to get a drink at the bar,” Amethyst says, heading down the stairs to Dark Eyes.

“Oh me too,” I say quickly as I follow her, knowing that Solon is probably down there with Wolf, just the two people I wanted to see.

And there they are. Solon, Wolf and that Finnish guy from the other night, in the cigar lounge, smoking and drinking, in a conversation about something.

Amethyst gives me a look like please don’t, but I ignore her and march straight over to the cigar lounge door and fling it open.

“You!” I exclaim, striding toward the three vampires, nearly tripping over the Turkish rug. I stop behind Solon and he slowly turns his head to look at me, breathing in deeply and wincing slightly. I probably smell like booze. He can probably tell I’m drunk. Doesn’t matter. I’m not that drunk.

“You,” I say again, pointing at him now, “you liar!” He blinks at me, the cigar smoke wafting from his mouth. “You made me think this whole time that Wolf was fucking me when he was really eating me out for days on end!” I look at Wolf who is sitting there wide-eyed. “Isn’t that true? Why didn’t you tell me what really happened? You know I thought we were screwing.”

Solon clears his throat. “Lenore, you remember Onni?” he asks, gesturing to him.

I glance at Onni who is staring at me with his mouth agape. “Yeah, hi again.” I look back to Solon, hand on my hip. “So what was the point of all that? Some weird double standard where it’s okay to have your friend get me off, but he can’t get off inside me?”

Solon and Wolf exchange a look, like whoa nelly. Onni looks like he’s going to start eating popcorn for the show. Perhaps I shouldn’t be spewing this in front of company, but I honestly don’t care at the moment.

“Lenore,” Solon says delicately as he brings his gaze back to meet mine, “perhaps this is a conversation for another time.”

“No,” I tell him adamantly. “I don’t care what this guy thinks.” I gesture to Onni who looks mildly insulted. “All you vampires are so casual about sex, aren’t you? It’s just the same as feeding, isn’t it? Fucking, sucking, it’s all the same. But guess what? It’s not that way to humans, and if it is to some, it’s not the same to me. Okay? I totally thought that Wolf was railing me for those days I don’t remember during The Becoming, and it turns out he wasn’t! Why did you let me think that?”

“Would it have made a difference?” Wolf asks, and Solon gives him a sharp look, maybe to shut him up.

“To me, yeah!” I tell him. “I thought I was okay with it since I didn’t remember and it’s part of the process, but now that I know the truth, it does make a difference! And it makes a difference to Amethyst too.”

Wolf’s brows go up. “Why would Amethyst care?”

And oh my god. I’ve said too much.

“No reason,” I say quickly. “I gotta go.”

I turn on my heel and leave the cigar lounge, walking past Amethyst, who is behind the bar shaking a shaker full of ice.

“What is going on in there?” she asks, frowning, but she doesn’t seem pissed off, which means she didn’t hear what I’d said.