Infected

Chapter 20

Galen leads me through the entryway and into a hall off of the living room. It's still covered in the odd wallpaper. When we near the back of the house, the smell of bread and sugar hits my nose and sends my stomach into a frenzy of growls and gurgles.

He looks back, smiling, "Told you you should eat something."

"You heard that?"

"Who wouldn't? It's like a zoo is living in your intestines right now."

We take a left at the end of the hall, into the kitchen. It's expansive, another setting for parties by the looks of the open areas. The theme of forest green continues in this room, with deep mahogany accents in the cabinets, breakfast nook, and stools. An island sits in the middle of the room, the size of a small car and made from a thick slab of continuous white marble with flecks of green and gold sprinkled in the veins. A farmhouse sink and restaurant-quality fridge and stove are stainless steel, going along the back wall and illuminated with soft lighting under the cabinets.

I continue my inspection of the kitchen, noting how pristinely clean it is. It's rarely, if not ever used. There's not a single fingerprint on any of the appliances, even the coffee machine that's brewing a fresh pot shines with nothing on it.

"I didn't know what you would be hungry for when you woke," Galen reveals a pink pastry box, sliding it over the counter to perfectly stop in front of me. "But I guess donuts and coffee are the easiest things for someone to hold down."

He turns away from me, opening a cupboard above the coffee maker to get down two glass mugs. I open the box, my stomach rejoicing at the confectioneries that send their scent my way. They're fresh and don't look poisonous. I take a maple bar, sniffing it before taking a small bite. I hold back a moan at the sugar that hits my tongue and take another bite, bigger this time.

A mug of hot coffee slides next to the box and I take it with enthusiasm. The coffee sears my mouth but it's nothing I haven't dealt with before. I grab another donut when the maple bar is just barely consumed, this one is covered in chocolate glaze and filled with cream. I hop up on a stool and off my aching feet, continuing to gorge myself.

"Slow down." Galen chuckles, sipping from his mug with much less gusto than I am. "It would be ironic to choke on a donut after nearly dying."

I swallow what's in my mouth, the taste suddenly going bitter at his comment.

"How can you be so relaxed about this? Isn't it a big deal to let me know anything about-" I bite my lip, unsure if my classification is the right term for them.

"Vampires?" Galen finishes for me. "You don't have to worry about what to call me Elle. To humans I'm a vampire, in my world I'm immortal and a pureblood, and to my family, I'm an idiotic selfish bastard. Take your pick, I won't care."

"Okay, that last one sounds more appropriate."

"Then you and my parents would get along just fine." He leans against the counter near the stove.

"You have parents?"

"For a lack of a better term yes. We don't have the relationship you'd typically see in an all-American household."

I nod, still confused about what he meant by having a mother and father.

I thought that vampires were made, not born. Unless he meant that they were in a sense his mother and father, that they created him and attach themselves as his superiors by teaching him their ways.

"Everything okay?" Galen asks, pouring us another mug.

"I'm just...confused." I tap into my knowledge of vampires, "Vampires are made by other vampires. It's written about in every book ever."