On my birthday, I showed up right on time at the upscale Blood Banquet Lounge Daniel Cook had reserved, genuinely excited for the night ahead.
By the seventh time a blood servant waiter came over with a polite smile to ask if I was ready to order, my phone finally lit up with an iMessage from Daniel.
“Something urgent came up with the Elders’ Council. Go ahead and order yourself a glass of Blood Plasma. Don’t wait for me.”
A second later, I scrolled straight into a new Instagram post.
From his first love.
Camila Bennett.
A Pureblood Elite.
In the photo, Daniel was seated at a table, casually flipping through the menu. He was even handing a fine silk blood napkin to someone just outside the frame, his attention clearly elsewhere.
The caption read:
“Been asleep in the Old World for so long. Someone was worried I’d come back to New York and starve because I couldn’t read the menu, so he’s treating me to a proper feast.”
Just like that, the entire evening lost its flavor.
I handed the menu, written entirely in archaic Latin I couldn’t even begin to decipher, back to the blood servant waiter.
“I’ll have one of everything from your signature Blood Reserve selection.”
By the time I finished feeding and had the rest packed up to take back to my Underground Manor in Manhattan, my phone was flooded with missed calls.
Dozens of them. All from Daniel.
The last one was a voice message.
“Hey, don’t overthink this. Camila just woke up and isn’t familiar with New York yet. I was only helping her find a suitable coffin for Torpor. Next time. I promise I’ll make it up to you with an even better birthday dinner.”
I didn’t respond.
A relationship that keeps surviving on promises of next time…
was that really something worth waiting for, especially for someone like me, a member of the Vampire Kind with time stretching endlessly ahead?
