Bloodbank

Thirty Two

For the first time in weeks, I found myself alone.

Scott had left to collect the ingredients for the antidote. In his absence, I lay on the decadent four poster bed, trying not to throw up again.

I'd asked him how long it would take for Tenebris to drink my blood, and Scott claimed he would that night. I only had to survive until then. Then Scott would give me the antidote. If I believed him, that was. All trust I had in Scott had left the moment Mason told me the truth, but it seemed my choices were limited. Either help Scott, or live a possession of Tenebris. I couldn't yet tell which was worse.

Eventually, a knock sounded on my door.

"Come in," I called, not having the willpower to remove myself from the bed. I sat up as a woman stepped into the room, pulling a large, wheeled contraption behind her. In her other hand she held a white dress. Behind her, Mason stepped into the room. His expression betrayed nothing, blank as a slate.

I was getting flashbacks to the Bloodbank.

"I'm here on behalf of his Lordship," she said, hanging up the dress on the back of the door, "here to help you get settled in."

I doubted that. The machine she had wheeled in looked far too similar to the blood extraction machines the bank had.

"Restrain her," the woman said, and Mason sat next to me on the bed, his arms pinning me down before I could protest.

As she prepared the machine, organising tubes and settings, she began to speak. She didn't look me in the eye, "his lordship will drink from you tonight. What I'm getting now is for his reserves. It's important that when he drinks from you that you do not scream. It will hurt more than usual - he will put some venom into your bloodstream, a mark of ownership, but you must not struggle."

She then inserted the needle into the crook of my elbow. My blood filled the tube instantaneously, a red stain being pulled from me. Mason's grip on me released slightly as he felt my body sag. My ears pounded, the little energy I had left being pulled from me.

A wine bottle sat at the other end of the machine, slowly filling. 

I felt my eyelids lowering, my body going limp in Mason's arms.

"Stop," he said as my head dipped forwards.

"It's not full."

"Stop." He lurched forwards and pressed a button on the machine. It stopped. I fell backwards, onto the bed, barely conscious.

I watched through half closed eyes as the woman poured a sip of the blood out into a small cup. She took a sip, and hummed in pleasure. The room was spinning, and so was she. I almost laughed.

"Delicious," she said, stoppering the bottle. She quickly packed up the machine, "you okay to dress her?"

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Mason replied. The woman left. That night, she would finish her duties, place the bottle in the cellar, retire to her room, and die in her sleep. The poison was potent; I just didn't know how potent yet.

Mason turned to me, gripping my chin between his fingers, "you wanna tell me what you took?"

"I'm sick, I didn't take anything," I mumbled.

"I've known you long enough to know when you're lying."

I laughed. I was delirious, from the poison and the recent taking of my blood. Mason came closer, his breath tickling the fine hairs on my face.

"I'm in the room next to yours. You think I can't hear you and Scott's scheming?" He whispered.

I swallowed, "you have no proof."

"Whatever it is, I want in." Mason continued, "or I tell his Lordship."

"Go ahead," I laughed, "I'll never trust you again."

"But you trust Scott?"

"Nope."

Now, Mason was laughing, too, "you really have changed. I prefer you like this. Less..." he looked me up and down, "pathetic."

"I'm on the verge of passing out." The room had stopped spinning, but I couldn't move myself away from Mason.

"We could work together. That night on the dunes, you weren't half bad," he was leaning in closer, his nose grazing mine.

I conjured the last of my strength, and slapped him. He recoiled, unfazed by the sting of the slap, but surprised nonetheless.

"You only care about yourself," I said.

"And so do you. We're the perfect team," Mason replied, without skipping a beat. My breath hitched. Was he right? Was I like him? It was a blow I hadn't been expecting - and while I could never do half the things Mason had done, I had been as bad as him. I thought of the man who I'd fed to Scott. The humans I'd abandoned in the Bloodbank. Leaving Nathan to die.

Scott appeared in the open doorway. He was impossibly quiet, and he hovered there, observing. My eyes remained on Mason; I watched Scott in my peripherals. He couldn't know I'd spotted him.

I was still angry at him. For lying to me, for forcing me to suffer through the poison's effects. For using me for my blood, when he could have just helped me to escape the city forever. Was it his fault I'd become this person?

I crossed the distance between Mason and I, pressing my lips firmly to his. He responded instantly, kissing me back, his lips chapped from the desert but warm. Scott was never warm when he kissed me, he was cold and refreshing when the desert was anything but.

With Mason, I felt none of the butterflies that I had with Scott. Mason's hands flew to my jawbone, deepening the kiss. Those butterflies returned, but only when I opened my eyes and locked them with Scott. My lips, between Mason's, formed into a smile. In those perfect, green eyes, I saw anger.

"Tenebris wants you for dinner," Scott took the dress from the door and threw it towards us. He paused for a moment, staring at us both, eyes almost glazing over. I could see the fury behind the green, how badly he wanted to kill Mason. But it was gone in a flash, and Scott left without another word.