KISSES FROM HELL. Alyson Noel

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      Once she was on her way to the bar, Eric hurried inside the house, hoping he could find Rhea in its labyrinthine setup. Others wandered through, either chatting or seeking privacy, but there was no sign of Rhea. He passed the kitchen, filled with bustling staff who were still working hard to keep up with the demand for appetizers and liquor. Frustrated, he pulled someone aside and asked if she’d seen anyone matching Rhea’s description.

      “Sure,” said the serving girl. “She went toward the feeders.”

      Eric offered his thanks and ran toward the wing of the house she directed him to. Visiting feeders at a party like this was strange. Sometimes feeders were actually kept in the middle of a party, but with the estate’s setup, getting blood meant leaving the festivities. Most people—including Eric—had fed beforehand.

      Moving quickly, he reached the entrance to the feeders’ room just as Rhea was about to go inside. Hearing his footfall, she paused in the doorway. Those golden-green eyes widened in surprise. She’d changed out of her earlier jeans into a clingy green cashmere dress that seemed both demure and sexy to him. Seeing her in full light now, he was astonished at just how beautiful she was. And that hair, oh that hair.

      He came to a halt, suddenly realizing he had no clue what it was he wanted to say.

      “What are you doing here?” he asked after an uneasy silence.

      Rhea stared. That Eric guy was the last person she’d expected to see down in the feeders’ area, especially considering he’d just been making out with the brunette in the pool minutes before. It was only the totally stupid nature of his question that allowed her to quickly gather herself. Rhea put one hand on her hip.

      “What do you think?” she responded.

      “Er, yeah … I mean, I know why you’re here, but …” He was clearly struggling to save himself here, and she wondered how much he’d had to drink. “But I mean, it just seems kind of weird at a party.”

      “I can’t have blood before I get on a boat. Otherwise I get sick.” She reconsidered. “Sicker.”

      “Oh. Yeah. That makes sense.”

      Another awkward pause hung between them. Finally Rhea turned toward the room. “Now that the interrogation’s over, can I go eat?”

      “Sure … sure. Do you mind if I … if I hang out with you?”

      Rhea couldn’t keep the surprise off her face as she tried to figure out why he would want to stay with her. Earlier on the boat, he’d obviously looked down on her the same way everyone else did for her flawed pedigree. Why show interest now? Not wanting to seem like she cared too much one way or another, she simply entered the room and called back, “Sure.”

      There was a Moroi attendant on duty who seemed as surprised as Eric that she was there. The guy marked her off on the list that tracked how often Moroi fed and looked astonished when she asked how he was doing tonight. Rhea had a feeling that most of the royals around here tended to treat the servants like furniture.

      “Can I have Dennis?” she asked. “Is he awake?”

      The attendant was much more cheerful, now that she’d behaved civilly. “Yup. He’s the last one on the right.”

      Rhea smiled and thanked him before walking down the rows of cubicles that sequestered the feeders. At a busier feeding time, all the spaces would have been full, but with the party going on, only a few of the cubicles were occupied. Some of the humans read while waiting for Moroi to come by; others simply stared off into space, blissfully gone on the high of a vampire bite. It was the rush all these humans lived for. They’d been taken from the fringes of human society, outcasts and homeless who were more than happy to give their blood in exchange for the ecstasy it brought. The Moroi also took care of them, giving the humans plenty of food and comfortable accommodations.

      “Who’s Dennis?” asked Eric, walking beside Rhea. He smelled like chlorine and was dripping puddles with each step. Nonetheless, she still found him oddly attractive, which frustrated her.

      “He’s a feeder who came from my school,” she explained. She couldn’t help a small smile when she thought of Dennis. “He’s sweet. He always asks for me to come back to him.”

      The look Eric gave her told her that he thought it was all ridiculous. Her smile vanished, and she quickened her pace to Dennis’s cubicle. Dennis was one of the humans simply content to stare off and do nothing until his next fix. But as soon as he saw her, he straightened to attention, nearly leaping out of his chair.

      “Rhea!” he exclaimed. “I thought you’d forgotten me. It’s been so long.”

      Rhea sat down in the chair beside him. She felt the smile creeping back to her lips. He was only a little older than her, but there was something cute and childlike about him. She always wanted to pat his messy brown hair back into place.

      “It hasn’t been that long,” she said. “It’s only been a day.”

      Dennis frowned, apparently trying to decide if that was true or not. It was easy for feeders to lose track of time. His eyes lifted to where Eric leaned against the cubicle’s entrance. Dennis’s enraptured look changed to a frown.

      “Who’s that?” Dennis asked suspiciously.

      “That’s Eric,” she said soothingly. “He’s … my friend.” Was he? She wasn’t sure, but it was best not to agitate Dennis.

      “I don’t like him,” Dennis declared. “He has weird eyes.”

      “I like his eyes,” Rhea said, still trying to be gentle. “They’re neat.”

      Dennis turned back to her, and seeing her face, his expression softened. He sighed happily. “I like your eyes. They’re beautiful. Like you.”

      She shook her head ruefully. She was used to his dreamy behavior, but Eric seemed offended by it. Like so many, he regarded feeders as objects. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

      Dennis eagerly tilted his neck, giving her full access. The skin there might have been smooth once, but now it was covered with the faint bruises of constant biting. Still, Rhea had no trouble sinking her fangs into his flesh and drinking the warm, sweet blood that was as essential to her survival as the solid food she ate. Dennis managed a small, happy sigh, and both of them shared a minute or so of total joy.

      When she finished and pulled away, Dennis turned to her with bright, ecstatic eyes. “You don’t have to stop,” he said. “You can take more.”

      He always made that offer, but Moroi were trained from an early age about the strict limits to how much they could take. It was what allowed these humans to survive the constant feedings. Plus, limitations steered Moroi away from that ultimate sin: Becoming a Strigoi by drinking all of a person’s СКАЧАТЬ