Page 15 of Bite Me
The bartender hesitated for a second, scanning my face. I had no idea what he saw since I didn’t feel like I had myself under control. The longer I stood here, the higher the chance I’d never see Eddie again.
Finally, the vampire moved to the side. “Good luck.”
Barely dodging a man with two beer bottles in his hands, I sprinted up the stairs and out on the curb. The street wasn’t busy; only a few humans straggled about in various stages of inebriation. A car passed, the windows tinted, then a cab stopped on the opposite side of the road, and two giggling girls stumbled out.
I couldn’t see Eddie and his friend anywhere. The bartender, however, had followed me and was now talking to the bouncer, no doubt telling him to keep an eye on me.
Without any idea in which direction they’d gone, I jogged back and forth to look around corners. Eddie had vanished.
They must have already taken a cab.
Fuck.
I walked home. My stomach was full, and my muscles were warm with fresh strength, but the usual relief of being fed didn’t come. Instead, a vague sense of dread niggled at my consciousness.
What had just happened?
I saw a young man at a bar. He tucked a strand of wavy chestnut hair behind his ear, and his slender, fragile wrist looked so… kissable. His green eyes were skittish but bright, and he blushed easily. He seemed out of place, just like I often felt. He didn’t belong to the dinner club—he stuck out like a white dove in a murder of crows. The longer I watched him, the brighter he shone, the rest of the room fading into shadows around him, and I imagined a connection, a kind of kinship, as if maybe our wrong souls that didn’t belong anywhere could sense each other.
Yes, I let my fantasy run wild just looking at Eddie from across the room. Maybe it was hunger clouding my mind. I hadn’t eaten in two weeks.
When Eddie turned around and noticed me, I shot up as if electrocuted. I had to taste him. It was imperative.
He acted so unaffected and sweet, his nervousness painfully obvious. One look at his blushing, youthful face, and I felt layers of my frosty cynicism thaw away. The genuine wonder in his eyes, his surprised arousal, even his fear… How beautiful was simple honesty? I’d forgotten.
I thought men like him had gone extinct along with the poetry of nineteenth-century Romanticism, but there he was, a sole daisy growing from a crack in the sidewalk…
What if I never see him again?
Blue-balled and bursting with energy, I jumped up and down in the elevator to my apartment. As soon as I unlocked my apartment, I headed straight into the shower. With steam gathering around me, I closed my eyes and recalled Eddie’s muffled cries, the sensation of his breath on my neck, and his clumsy, jerky movements as he came in my arms.
My release got washed down the drain, and the high subsided too soon. I could have had him waiting for me naked on my bed, dammit! Would he have said yes if his friend hadn’t arrived?
Eddie’s blood was exquisite. I couldn’t compare it to anything. It had felt like distilled joy in my mouth, like lust and passion pouring down my throat and bliss settling in my stomach. With my lips on his neck and my arms around his shivering body, I wondered if he was human. Maybe he was some celestial being, and if I drank from him long enough, the fucking meaning of life would dawn on me.
What was it about his blood that had tasted so unique? Trying to remember the exact flavor was causing my dick to stir even though I’d just come.
I had to feed from Eddie again. But finding one boy in a city of three million people was nearly impossible without any clues. I could come to that dinner club every weekend. Unless the experience put Eddie off, maybe he’d turn up one night.
He was gay. Or bi or pan. Was he on any dating apps? How much scrolling and swiping would I have to do to find one person? I already knew I’d go through them all for a chance to taste him again.
I was addicted after one bite.
On Saturday, I spent hours on gay dating apps trying to spot Eddie’s face. The sheer number of bare torsos I’d seen and ass pics I’d received left an aftertaste of desperation and had me questioning the pursuits of mankind. Did anyone out there still look for a real connection?
When I returned to the club on Sunday night, the bartender told me to wait while he served another customer. Then he poured me a glass of red and put it in front of me.
“No, he hasn’t been here,” he said before I could form a question.
I gulped the rich and smoky wine. Maybe I could drown my disappointment in it.
“He tasted that good?” the bartender asked. He leaned on the counter, shoulders bulging threateningly, but eyes sympathetic. His interest seemed genuine.
“I’ve never felt anything like it. Blew me away.”
“Sometimes it happens.”
“What?”
