Blood Draw: Book Two of the Blood Type Series (complete)

Growing Pains

The overhead light blazed to life, temporarily blinding me. I froze, a blood-red apple suspended on its way to my mouth and resisted the urge to hide the evidence behind my back as though I'd been caught doing something wicked.

"Blake Edwards Ehlert!" my mother hissed through her teeth, tempering her surprise with the need to be quiet. Her eyes darted to the two discarded apple cores on the table and then to the mess littering the kitchen counter. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

She drew her robe tighter around her petite frame, shivering against the chill of the sleeping house. Her normally perfectly-styled hair was ratted on one side, looking as though a flock of birds had nested there.

"Honestly, Blake. What are you doing?" she asked again, sounding calmer, though resigned to what she and my father had dubbed my odd behavior of the past few months.

"I was hungry. Is that a crime?" I brought the apple to my mouth and sank my teeth into the taut flesh with an audible crunch.

My mother sighed and reached for the tea kettle. "Not as long as you're eating."

Discovering that I still enjoyed apples had been a recent revelation. This development came after days of trial and error, not to mention a lot of wasted food. For the past seventy-two hours my diet had consisted solely of the O-negative blood my vampire boyfriend John supplied for me, which wasn't often enough.

"I didn't think you'd go through it so quickly," he said when I called him earlier that evening, frantic that I'd drained my last bag and was still sick with hunger. Or was it thirst? I couldn't tell which, only that I had unfulfilled cravings.

"What did you expect?" I snapped, hunger making me jittery and cranky with everyone who crossed my path. "You gave me four bags. How am I supposed to survive on four bags? I feel like I'm on some kind of starvation diet."

"You have to keep blood refrigerated or it will go bad," he said patiently. "Don't you think your parents will notice bags of blood hidden in their condiment drawer? Remember, discretion is key when you're a vampire, especially a new vampire."

"And if my mom happens to look under my bed and finds a cooler of biohazard waste, she's not going to be too happy about that either."

I could practically hear her now: Blake Edwards Ehlert, you'll ruin the rug!

The rug was the least of my concerns, however. As a new vampire, I was going through blood at what I considered an alarming rate. John assured me it was a normal side-effect of the whole human-to-vampire transition and would eventually regulate. Still, as I sat staring at my mother while she filled the tea kettle with water from the sink, I couldn't shake the gnawing hunger.

Or how I wanted to sink my teeth into the thin skin of her neck to feel the warm burst of her jugular against my tongue.

I shuddered at the thought, the chunk of apple in my mouth tasting suddenly much too sweet. Swallowing with difficulty, I carefully placed the fruit on the table beside me as though it were a ticking bomb.

"No wonder you're hungry," my mother said, eyeing me critically. "You hardly ate dinner."

Retrieving a glass from the cupboard, I held it under the tap. At least water had no offensive smell or taste. According to John, all vampires could drink water, though they often didn't.

I took a sip of the cool liquid, swished it around my mouth to rid it of the lingering taste of my mother's imagined blood, and spit into the sink, much to her silent horror. Aside from my behavior, my manners were a disappointment to both my parents these days, too.