010: THE TASTE OF BLOOD

010: THE TASTE OF BLOOD
“Seth,” Alastor acknowledges. “I didn’t expect you tonight.”

Seth chuckles. “I could say the same. Especially not with… company.” His eyes linger on Cassian again, openly assessing. He smiles like he’s kind, eyes glinting as if he knows something. “I must say your new mate is one of a kind, beautiful, and delicate,” he says as he reaches out, and he doesn’t give Cassian the time to react as he grabs his hand and gently kisses the back of his hand. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, flower.”

Cassian shivers at the tone of his voice, almost the same as Alastor's, like both of them are playing the same game that only they win, and they give their prey pet names, too. They must be close. Cassian offers the vampire a smile and immediately withdraws his hand. What if he finds out Cassian is human?

Seth smiles again, eyes still fixed on Cassian. “I must say, you also look familiar, too. Have we perhaps met before, flower?”

Cassian gently shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

Seth nods. “You’re right, I wouldn’t forget such a beauty. How about I offer a toast as an apology for my behavior?” he says, and with a snap of his fingers, a server is before them with two glasses of red liquid on his tray: blood. Cassian’s eyes widen, and he holds onto Alastor more tightly without even realizing.

Seth grabs a glass and holds it out for Cassian, who looks at it like it’s poison.

“You don’t have to apologize, my lord,” he says quickly, but the vampire lord looks like he has no intention of withdrawing the glass.

“I insist, and it would be rude if you were to reject my drink,” Seth smirks, enjoying whatever sick game he’s playing.

Cassian looks up at Alastor, seeking help, but when Alastor looks down at him, he has a look in his eyes that says Cassian is alone, like he wants to see what will happen next. Fuck. Cassian curses in his head. Alastor won’t help him. He’s sicker than Seth, of course; Cassian should have expected any less.

He looks back at Seth, then at the glass of blood, and when he lifts his head again, he realizes almost every pair of eyes in the ballroom is staring at him. He has to accept it, or they will find out his secret. He can’t afford it; he can’t die yet.

With shaky hands, he accepts the glass, and the metallic scent hits him instantly, stronger now that it’s so close, crawling up his throat and making his stomach twist violently.

Blood. Real blood. This can’t be happening.

His fingers tremble around the stem, knuckles pale as he forces himself not to recoil. The room feels tighter, smaller, as if the walls themselves are leaning in to watch him fail and lead to his death.

Seth’s smile widens, predatory and pleased. “There,” he murmurs. “See? That wasn’t so difficult.” Then he grabs the other glass and toasts to Cassian’s glass before bringing it to his lips, and without hesitation, he drinks, and now, it’s Cassian’s turn.

Cassian’s heart is starting to race against its ribcage. Any vampire would jump at the sight of being offered blood, and Cassian is pretending to be a vampire. He has to drink. His hand shakes harder.

“Careful,” Seth says lightly, tilting his head. “Spilling it would be… wasteful.”

Cassian brings the glass closer to his lips. The scent is overwhelming now, coppery, making his head spin. His mouth waters traitorously in fear, his body reacting in ways that make panic claw up his spine. He glances up once more, just once at Alastor, and the vampire lord watches him with dark, unreadable eyes.

You’re alone, that look says.

So Cassian does the only thing he can. He drinks, and the moment the blood touches his tongue, his inside revolts. It burns and freezes at the same time, sending a violent jolt through his body. Cassian’s breath stutters, his knees threatening to give out as nausea crashes into him.

He jerks the glass back immediately, coughing once into his sleeve before he can stop himself, and instantly, the room goes utterly silent.

Cassian forces a smile when it feels like he’s about to die. “It’s… strong,” he manages hoarsely. “Stronger than what I usually have,” he lies through his teeth. Fuck. It’s the worst thing he has ever tasted. It feels alive on his tongue.

Seth watches him intently, eyes sharp now, the amusement in them fading into something far more dangerous. He steps closer, gaze flicking to Cassian’s throat, his lips. “You didn’t drink,” he says softly.

Cassian’s heart slams against his ribs.

“I did,” Cassian replies, lifting the glass slightly, but just when Seth is about to speak again, Alastoro finally moves, snatching the glass from Cassian’s grasp, and his arm slides around Cassian’s shoulders, pulling him back against his chest with unmistakable possession. The sudden contact nearly makes Cassian sag in relief. He shuts his eyes, trying to control his breathing and trying even harder not to throw up all over Alastor’s clothes.

“That’s enough,” Alastor says calmly, yet his gaze pierces through the other vampire’s face, giving a firm warning look. “You’ve had your fun,”

“Fun?” Seth raises a brow. “We are all vampires. I only offered a little bit of blood. Do you perhaps starve him, Alastor? You aren’t that cruel,” he looks at Cassian. “If he treats you badly, you can always come to me; I’ll take care of you better.”

Alastor holds Cassian tighter. “He’s mine, and I don’t share what’s mine.”

Seth’s eyes twinkle, and he smiles. “Very well. Forgive my manners if I offended your mate.” His gaze lingers on Cassian one last time. “You’re fascinating, flower. Hope to see you again,” he looks at Alastor. “Hope you enjoy the rest of the evening.”

And with that, he’s leaving, walking away without looking back, as he was just about to reveal Cassian’s secret, while everyone else goes back to enjoying the ball.

Alastoro looks down at Cassian. “You okay, Petal?”

“No,” Cassian whispers. “I want to leave. Please,” the words leave his throat heavily. He feels like passing out

“Of course, petal,”