"So, what exactly does blood taste like to you?"
Antoinette questioned, wooden brush running through Anubis' faultless white fur. Dinner, feeding the cats and Antoinette having a peanut butter sandwich, was finished and the prince was given cat dish washing duty. He'd given up protesting today, exhausted from the war that was feeding the cats but it went better than expected.
"Why are you asking?" Back turned to her, hands immersed in the action of scrubbing and rinsing cat bowls.
"Don't answer my question with another question."
"Don't ask stupid questions then."
He heard hissing to his far right, not even bothering to look since he would meet nothing but Satan's gaze. Which sounded much scarier than it actually was.
"Fine, a less stupid question then." There was a moment of silence before she stood up. Anubis satisfied with his glorious coat, she grabbed an apple off of the fruit bowl in the center of the table. "Why hasn't your family come looking for you yet?"
Declan paused, glancing to see her lift herself up to sit on the counter, legs dangling. She was right besides him, taking a bite out of her apple.
"Pack Silvermoon doesn't even have half the amount of pack members as you do kin vampires." Antoinette took a bite out of her apple, not all bothered by the piercing crimson gaze that was directed at her. "There hasn't been any sign of them on the news either, I'm getting curious."
Declan frowned, she had a valid point and he didn't like that. Even if he had gone missing, they wouldn't have stopped their attacks on the city. Concern stirred in his chest but he forced it back down. No, it's probably just some changes in the plan, nothing major.
"... Stick to the stupid questions."
Her lips twitched, almost into a smile but falling short. "So does blood have like, a flavor? Is it hard to drink or what?"
He thought for a moment, placing the last of the cat bowls on a rack to dry. "It's hard to describe it to a human."
"Wow, racist much?" Another bite, she pulled at her scrunchie, letting the thick locks fall past her shoulders.
"You've been exploiting my weaknesses as a vampire every since I got here." His eyes looked warily at the spray bottle still strapped to her side, then up at the sprinklers. "Anyways, I suppose its similar to how humans need water to survive. There isn't exactly a taste, there's just a subconscious need to drink. The only difference is that we're constantly thirsty, purebloods not so much as those turned."
"Water has taste though."
He raised a brow, drying his hands on paper towels. "How so?"
"To me at least," She started. "Tap water tastes gross, mineral and distilled water are better. I like drinking cold water more than I do warm water, but I guess that isn't exactly a taste. All in all, I'd rather drink coffee."
Declan, despite himself, was interested in her rambling. All he's ever done to humans in his general vicinity is kill them, never has he took the time to actually listen to one. He didn't find the selfish, emotion filled beings entertaining to listen to anyways based on what he's seen from watching television and surfing the net.
So why exactly is the woman he plans to kill after this strange game of hers intruiging him?
Why is he having a normal conversation with this woman who put him in a cat adorned outfit, sprayed him with holy water twice, insulted him and trapped him in her home?
YOU ARE READING
By The Way, I Taste Like Garlic
Mizahᴅᴇᴄʟᴀɴ ʀᴏᴜɢᴇ ɪs ᴀ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴᴛᴏɪɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ ᴄᴀɢᴇ ʜᴏɴᴇsᴛʟʏ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴀʀᴇ. Declan Rouge. Feared, cold, heartless and infuriatingly handsome. Being the heir to the throne of an entire line of pureblood vampires, he's not planning to take any prisone...