Stone's Thirst

Chapter 4: In Search of the Words

I fled for the stairs, blessing the thick carpet under my feet as it swallowed the noise of my flight. I was back in the living room, then sitting back in my spot on the leather sofa. It gave the softest of leather creaks as I settled my weight. Damn it. I clasped my hands together on my lap—then flashed back to the blood bag in the very same posture and let them drop to my sides. My groin was throbbing, aroused, while my mind swirled with terror. The helpless pleasure of the girl as her blood was drained from her…It was the stuff of nightmares. And still…There was a part of me that wanted to be in that chair, my wrists bound in silk…

I shook my head. I'd never thought of anything like this before, ever. My few flimsy attempts at relationships with boyfriends—of varying quality—had always taken a backseat to my academics. I'd never gotten past third base with any of them, and the kind of pleasure that I'd seen rippling through the blood bag's body was something I could not begin to imagine.

And the professor had seen me. Oh god. Or had she? Had it been a coincidence that she looked at the door?

I heard the door open upstairs and nearly jumped out of my skin. I smoothed my skirt and straightened my sweater hurriedly as Professor Stone descended the stairs. She looked impeccable—no trace of blood on her icily lovely face. Her pantsuit wasn't even rumpled. It was as if the scene upstairs had never happened. Had I imagined it? Had it been some kind of sick fantasy?

“Thank you for waiting, Miss Brooks," said the professor, sitting back in her armchair. I couldn't begin to read her: had she seen me or not? But if she had, she was clearly choosing to ignore it. For now.

“No worries," I said, my voice far too high.

“Before we were interrupted," she continued, “I was hoping to ask you: would you be at all interested in an additional role as my classroom teaching assistant? For the purposes of tracking attendance, keep the students off their phones, that sort of thing."

“Oh, yes." I couldn't remember a time I'd ever turned down a potentially advantageous job, no matter how stressed or busy I was. “I actually wrapped all my required classes this fall, so I have nothing but my thesis work for the spring semester."

“Perfect," Professor Stone smiled. Was that just a touch of crimson blood at the corner of her mouth? “I shall see you tomorrow morning then, for my penultimate class of the semester. Romantic Poetry. You should be quite at home."

I nodded, my throat full of something between fear and amazement.

When I got back to my dorm room, I was all but shaking. Janis looked up at me from where she was sitting on our sparse floor space, watching some '90s cartoon movie or other on her laptop.

“What's up?" she asked at once, reading my face. “How'd the RA meeting go?"

Janis Severs was my best friend—and one of my few friends at all. We were both introverted nerds, and our shyness and quiet go well together. She was petite with dark red hair and an easy smile, the kind of cheerful nerd who has a running D&D game Saturday nights instead of any party plans. We met freshman year and while our classmates seemed to settle in and let loose, we remained the focused overachievers that we'd arrived at Harlow as. The main difference between us is that she's a media studies scholar.

I flopped down onto my bed, letting my breath fly out. Had I been holding it? The world seemed suddenly much more ordinary from the familiar perspective of my dorm room.

“It went…weird," I reported haltingly. I didn't want to gossip, but this was my best friend, and I couldn't not tell anyone about what had just happened. “They thought I was their blood bag when I first showed up. Professor Stone was in this bathrobe type thing when she answered the door, and it wasn't tied very well…"

“Jeez," whistled Janis, shutting her computer laptop and looking up at me with eyes hugely magnified behind thick glasses. “That sounds frickin' hot."

“It…" I put my hand over my eyes. Of course, Janis, entirely unfiltered, would not put it at all gently. “But then the blood bag did show up, and the professor and Watson went upstairs with her. And they fed on her. But that wasn't all. They got her off while they did it. It was so sick."

“Sick is one word," mused Janis, drawing up her knees to her chest. “I can think of a few others…Jeez, Amber. Were you spying on them? Did they see you?"

I felt myself blushing furiously again. “I could hear it from the living room, where they told me to wait. It's an old house. Thin walls."

“Then they must have really gotten her off if you could hear it from downstairs. Damn. I always heard the Reddit rumors about vamps preferring their victims either freaked out or turned on, but there are so many rumors out there, I never know which ones to believe."

I grunted, pushing myself upright and going over to the full-length mirror on the inside of the dorm's closet door. I examined myself carefully, trying to imagine what Professor Stone had seen when she looked at me. The truth was, I was nothing special. I was built like a pencil, with barely any chest to speak of and hips that were more an illusion of the clothes I chose than anything to do with the body underneath. My dark brown hair lay long and flat around my narrow face, curtaining sharp shoulders. As plenty of boyfriends had told me when they got bored and left me, I wasn't anybody's fantasy. Just a skinny nerd with overlarge ambitions.

As if to counter the cruel thoughts in my head, I piped, “She wants me to be her TA too. Starting tomorrow."

“Then I guess it didn't go too bad!" Janis said brightly. “Come on, you want to watch the end of this movie with me? They're about to do the big drag battle finale."

“Sure," I smiled, glad to have my feet back on the ground in the real world. “That sounds great."

I scrolled on my phone absently through the end of the movie and then while Janis and I went down to the dining hall for dinner. All the other tables were full of chatter and noise, but the two of us sat alone and quiet.

I heard a sharp giggle—the kind you know is directed at you—as a couple strode by. I glanced up at their retreating backs and recognized them at once: the trim-waisted blonde with the legs up to Canada was Jenny LaMont, one of the senior class's trademark beauties. On her arm was Logan Talbot, the head of Epsilon Delta, and an out vampire. The way they were leaning into each other told me where they were likely off to. Jenny had just had her dinner. Logan probably wanted his. They were exactly the kind of beautiful, popular people who would never give me the time of day.

“She better be careful with him," murmured Janis, very low under her breath. “I know he looks our age but…Damn."

I knew what she meant: Delta Epsilon was a fraternity for upper-crust men, maintained by a group of perpetually young vampires, chief among whom was Logan. The frat exclusively admitted the highest-class of heirs and promising businessmen or political candidates. The frat brothers were known to feed on their new recruits—sometimes disastrously—but also hunt at parties that were infamous for turning into blood-draining orgies. Delta Epsilon represented vampires who are wild, free, and unashamed of their vampire status—seeing themselves as superior to humans and farming powerful humans to continue to support and protect them no matter their crimes.

As I saw Jenny disappear out of the dining hall with him, I had a sudden flash: an image of Logan bent over Jenny's shoulder, her considerable breasts bared and his hand busy at her crotch while he drank and drank and drank…

I shook my head. What was happening to me? I was no Jenny LaMont. I was in no danger of vampire seduction. But some part of me wished badly that I was.