Page 49 of Bonded By Blood
The bed dipped at her side and Joe held a glass with fresh, crimson liquid filled two-thirds high out for her to take. “Regardless, you’ll feel better after you drink this.”
Now that the blood was directly in front of her, Brianna’s attention zeroed in on it. Her nose flared as she drew a deep breath and saliva pooled in her mouth. After the poisoning, she was famished. But she was also a little wary. How could they be sure this blood was clean? Weak as she was, another poisoning might kill her, even if she only took a single sip.
Joe frowned, just a little, when he saw her hesitate.
“How … do we know?” Brianna asked carefully. She wasn’t able to look away from the offering.
Trista started to say something about the doctor, but Joe interrupted her, answering Brianna more directly. He put the cup to his own lips and took a large gulp. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“Joe!”
“Well,” Trista said. “I suppose that works.”
Brianna latched her hands around his wrist, only then noticing the IV still attached to her forearm—which explained the ache—and pulled enough to be sure he didn’t drink any more. “Why would you risk that?”
He licked a single drop off his lips and offered her a small smile. “I trusted the supply. But, if I was wrong, this way you’d know.”
“Joe—”
“I feel fine, by the way,” he said, cutting her off. “And I’m operating on an empty stomach, so if it was bad, I’d probably know right away.”
Tears stung her eyes for a second and Brianna slowly accepted the glass when he offered it to her a second time. She had it halfway to her nose before the meaning of his words hit home. “Wait, what do you mean empty stomach? You should have eaten by now.” She looked past him, toward her mother—who’d probably starved him out of spite. “Why won’t you let him eat?”
Trista rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. None of us have eaten since we’ve been locked in here. The blood the doctor brought was for you. I refused to allow anyone else to touch it. Seth is out now fetching some for the rest of us, your lover included. We had to prioritize disposing of the contaminated product first.”
Brianna supposed that made sense. And since they’d been good about keeping Joe fed, even though he was still young, he wouldn’t be in danger of turning rabid that easily. Maybe I should be grateful Mother didn’t demand one of the ‘blood slaves’ simply be sacrificed the old-fashioned way. She finally brought the glass to her lips and allowed a small sip to slide over her tongue. The sweet, clean taste ignited her hunger and she quickly gulped the contents of the glass down.
Joe didn’t complain about refilling it when she asked, and it wasn’t until her second glass was empty that she finally looked around.
Only her mother, Joe, and Veronica were with her in the safe-room. We actually had to use one of the safe-rooms. They had three scattered across the property, each a little different, but they always tended to use her mother’s veritable throne room in a crisis instead. She supposed this situation was a little different, though. She hadn’t gone down like that in a very long time.
Brianna released a breath and lowered the blood-coated glass to her lap. “So what happened? How did my dinner end up with werewolf blood in it?” Werewolf blood. It was probably the blood of Joe’s recently-murdered wolf friend. She glanced over at him, though her question had been directed at her mother, and caught his frown. He’d come to that same conclusion, then. I’m sorry, Joe.
“We haven’t figured out how, precisely,” Trista said. “One of your blood slaves was sloppy and left your meal unattended. Or perhaps the open bottle was tampered with, but that’s less likely. Regardless, that part’s been dealt with. The matter we haven’t yet cleared up is how werewolf blood got into this house in the first place.” She made a dismissive motion with one hand as she settled on the sofa across the room. “But I don’t want you worrying about that.”
Brianna frowned. “How can I not worry about it? If we don’t understand how it happened, it could happen again. And what about Matilda? You’re saying Matilda didn’t know?”
“Matilda was complicit,” Trista replied. “Matilda has been dealt with. In the meantime, the blood supply will be under twenty-four-hour guard from now on. Whenever possible, you and I should feed from the blood slaves directly until the matter with the Wilsons is satisfied. But I won’t force you.”
Brianna scrunched up her face. She understood the logic behind her mother’s suggestion, but she didn’t like it. None of their current generation of human staff had been hired with the expectation that they’d be bitten on any sort of recurring basis. It didn’t seem right to Brianna to force herself on them now. “As long as the supply will be under trusted guard,” she said, “I suppose that’ll be fine.” She would probably still be squeamish for a while, though.
“Honestly, Brianna,” Trista began, a faint note of exasperation in her voice, “you’re a vampire. It’s perfectly fine if you act like one in your own home.”
Brianna took a breath and held up her empty glass pointedly. “Do you mean by drinking blood?” Speaking of which… She turned a hesitant smile toward Joe. “In fact, could I get one more?”
Joe took the glass, but his words of acquiescence were overridden.
“Yes, by drinking blood,” Trista said. “But sometimes you might have to use your fangs. You remember how to do that, I hope?”
Brianna rolled her eyes. “Of course I remember how to use my fangs, Mother. I just prefer to treat my employees as humans rather than walking buffets.”
“Well,” Trista said as Joe handed over the refilled glass, “need I remind you it was one of your special human employees who fed you werewolf blood earlier tonight?”
No, she didn’t need the reminder.
In all of their centuries, they’d never been in a situation quite like this. Brianna had never fallen prey to poisoning before and it had rattled her. She’d wanted to stay out of the hunt for the Wilsons, quietly involved with the search for the traitor, but now that seemed impossible. One—or both—parties had come directly for her, for whatever reason. To ignore that and carry on as if nothing had happened would be foolish. She didn’t like the idea of possibly going back, even temporarily, to drinking directly from her staff, but she would do what she had to in order to survive.
That was the unofficial motto of her family.