An Acquired Taste (The Valentine Society)

Chapter Eight

D ominic and Dante are tense, muscles coiled, as though they’re expecting a fight. But Sebastian walks over with his hands in his pockets and his posture relaxed, as if he hasn’t a care in the world. To my shock, the two others peel away as he approaches, retreating with a haste that almost feels like fear. They exchange glances, but Sebastian is not even looking at them. His arresting gaze is locked on mine. He stops a couple of feet ahead of me and holds out his hand palm up.

“May I?” he asks.

I reach for where my blood card should be before realizing Dominic still has it.

“I, um, he…” I mutter, glancing over at where the duo is looking on unhappily.

Sebastian follows my gaze, and his expression sharpens. When he speaks again, I catch a glimpse of fangs catching the moonlight. “The lady’s blood card,” he demands.

There’s a swollen moment of silence. Then Dominic steps forward, jaw clenched, and holds out the fan to Sebastian, getting only close enough that the other vampire could reach out and take it.

But Sebastian doesn’t move. “It doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to her,” he says.

My breath hitches. Dominic’s lip curls. For a moment, I swear there’s going to be violence. But then Dominic turns to me, steps forward, and holds the blood card out to me instead. “Here,” he mutters.

I swallow hard and take it. “Thank you.”

Glaring daggers at Sebastian, the two vampires step back into the night they appeared from. Sebastian watches them go before turning to me. His posture is ramrod straight, his bearing solemn. Most vampires seem to be masquerading as the nobility they claim to be, but with Sebastian, I can see it. He seems, every inch of him, a king among peasants.

He looks at me expectantly. I stare back for a moment before I remember that he asked me a question. He wants permission to sign my blood card and claim my final spot for the night. I should wait for Benjamin… but I can’t deny that I’m intrigued by this man, and I feel safer around him than I did with the other two vampires. I peel my clenched hand off my blood card and offer it to him.

His cold fingers brush against mine, and I suppress a gasp as electricity zips through my veins.

But instead of signing the card, he only scrutinizes it. “Where is your chaperone?”

“He should be back any minute,” I say.

He taps a finger against the paper. “ Benjamin Acharya .”

I fold my arms across my chest. I’m not thrilled by Benjamin myself after how tonight has gone, but I still don’t like this vampire’s judgmental tone. “Let me guess, you disapprove because he’s courtless?”

Sebastian glances up at me. “I disapprove because he’s not here.”

“There was a situation. It’s not his fault.”

“You could’ve been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t.”

His jaw clenches. “That’s not the—”

“Amelia!”

We both turn at the sound of Benjamin’s voice. My chaperone rushes into the hedge maze and looks me frantically up and down before he seems to note the other vampire’s presence. Then his eyes widen and he hastily drops into a bow. “Lord Sebastian,” he says. A sideways glance encourages me to show similar respect—but I’m too annoyed with both of them.

“Took you long enough,” I say to Benjamin. And then, to Sebastian, “Are you going to sign my blood card or not?”

“ Amelia ,” Benjamin chastises under his breath.

Sebastian gives me a long look, my blood card still in his hand. Then he flips the fan open, grabs the pen, and writes his name in the final spot. I hold out my hand, and he walks over and surrenders the blood card to me. Our eyes meet one last time—his gaze dark and intense—before he turns to Benjamin.

“You ought to keep a closer eye on her,” he says.

Benjamin bows his head, not even making eye contact. He looks small beside Sebastian. “I will. My apologies.”

Sebastian nods, and just like that, turns to leave.

What the hell?

Blood boiling, I ignore Benjamin’s warning look and call out before I can think better of it. “You’re not even going to try my blood?”

Sebastian pauses but doesn’t turn back. “Consider it a reprieve. An easy night.”

Righteous indignation flares in my chest. “I’m not looking for an easy night,” I say, tapping my blood card against my arm. “I’m looking for a patron. And I get that you swooped in here thinking you were saving me, but in actuality, you might have ruined one of my last chances to find one.”

He pauses, posture stiffening, and slowly turns to face me again.

“Please excuse—” Benjamin starts, but he goes silent as Sebastian raises a hand.

“No,” Sebastian says. “She’s correct. I signed her card. It’s only right for me to drink from her.”

He gestures to a nearby, wrought-iron bench. Chin held high, I lift my skirts and walk over to settle myself on it, trying to pretend my heart isn’t pounding at the realization of what I’ve gotten myself into. Benjamin stands back as Sebastian comes to join me.

All of the boldness goes out of me once he’s near. I remember that I’m challenging a vampire who just scared off two of his kind with barely a few words.

This close, I can see that Sebastian’s eyes aren’t truly black, but a very deep brown. Closer scrutiny reveals that he is not quite as perfect as he seemed from afar. He has a distinctive, aquiline nose. Shadows under his eyes and a perpetual furrow to his brow make him look older than most vampires. And, goddamn it, somehow it only makes me more attracted to him.

I tear my gaze away to glance down at my blood card again and process the name he wrote: Lord Sebastian de Celeste. I try to rack my memory for which court that is, but I’m too distracted by his nearness, the sensation of his eyes on me. My eyes flick to his all-black outfit, and I find a hint in the shape of a small metallic moon pinned to the pocket of his suit. Moon and quill. “They who remember.” That’s right—Celeste is the court I deemed “old and boring” in Benjamin’s lesson.

Sebastian does not give the impression of being either. I flush at the thought, swallow hard, and hold out my wrist to him.

But instead of taking it, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a syringe. “I’ll be using this.”

I don’t know much about vampire culture, but this definitely feels like an insult. Maybe he’s so repulsed by me that he can’t stand the thought of putting his lips against my bare skin. Part of me wants to turn him away for the snub, but judging from his cold expression, that’s exactly what he wants. So I stubbornly set my jaw, keep my wrist extended, and nod, my gaze holding his.

At least I’ll get a laugh out of watching his surprise at the taste of me. He didn’t even read my notes.

Sebastian drops his eyes from mine as he sets the needle to my skin. His other hand holds me steady, and goose bumps ripple under his cold touch. He works with surprising care and gentleness. I barely feel the needle enter my skin, and watch as he fills the syringe with my blood. It doesn’t feel anywhere near as intimate as when the vampires drank from me directly, and nowhere near as pleasant, either, but it’s oddly fascinating to watch my blood fill the small tube.

Once the syringe is full, he makes eye contact with me again as he raises it to his mouth. He tilts his head back, full lips parting, and empties the syringe into his mouth in one long push. Only when he has a full mouthful does he swallow, hard and fast like he’s forcing down a pill.

Surprise flickers across his face, so fast, I wouldn’t have caught it if I weren’t studying him. He’s close enough for me to see the way his eyes dilate, pupils growing so large, his eyes look black once more. His tongue glides over the sharp tips of his fangs before he closes his mouth. But a moment later, his expression smooths over into cold disinterest.

“There,” he says. “Are you satisfied?”

I blink at him. Blink again, waiting for a shudder of disgust or loud exclamation of shock. “That’s it?”

His brow creases. “What did you expect?”

“I…” I bite my tongue. Of course, he’s just being a gentleman. Probably trying his hardest to maintain a poker face. I clear my throat, stand, and offer him an exaggerated curtsy. “It’s been a pleasure, Lord Sebastian.” I rejoin Benjamin where he stands waiting, hoping Sebastian didn’t notice the heat crawling up my neck.

Before I can make my hasty escape, he calls out once more.

“And your name?”

I stop, glance back over my shoulder. “What?”

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he says, his gaze steady as he looks at me.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. It was right on my blood card, but of course, he barely glanced at the thing before scrawling his name there. And I’m not sure why he cares, given that this is the last time we have to experience one another’s company. “Amelia,” I tell him, anyway. “Amelia Burton.”

As I walk inside on Benjamin’s arm, I feel Sebastian’s eyes following me.