Free Feral: Part One by Arisa Baumann Page B

though it seemed I might have to. What did that mean? Was it just their term for… what? Lover? Partner? Wife? Surely it wasn’t the latter. I mean, I could only think of two things when it came to the word mate, and that was animals or the European term for friends. Of course, I had heard once before that wolves mate for life, so… maybe life-partners?
    I really did have a lot of questions to ask. 
    Regardless of the fact he would hear me calling him, I made my way to the living room where I speculated he was waiting, and sure enough, I was right.
    He rose when I entered the room and stopped a few feet away, leaning against the wall closest to me.
    “I have to ask you some questions,” I stated firmly, “and I’m not sure how. I’m going to feel pretty stupid if I’m wrong, but why are you telling me this? I mean, if I were someone unimportant, why would you need to tell me… y’know? I can’t see how my knowing Cole would have any weight on whether or not you told me any of this, unless…”
    “Unless what?”
    “Unless I’m wrong in my thinking.”
    “And what, amore mio, are you thinking?”
    “I’d rather not say, in case I’m wrong.”
    “You would not be.”
    Once again, I found myself temporarily short of breath. “Mates—what does that mean? And if I am your mate, does that mean… I mean, will you be… Will there be others?” I managed to choke out while trying to ignore the heat that spread from my face down my neck.
    “It means you are mine and I am yours, and if you chose to mate with me, I would be bound to you and you alone.”
    It was succinct, to the point, and sounded very final, and I wasn’t positive why I was okay with this. “I, um…” I swallowed nervously. “I’m sorry. My thoughts are pretty scattered right now, and I really don’t know what to say or ask next.”
    “It is quite all right. I suspect there is absolutely no circumstance in which telling a person that vampires do exist is normal. I would never expect you to be anything more than overwhelmed, to have a million questions. Indeed, I would be quite surprised if your thoughts were in perfect order.” He offered me a small smile of reassurance. “Please. Take all the time you need, and ask whatever questions you have.”
    “Why aren’t you cold?”
    “Am I not?” he shot back, a look of amusement written on his face.
    “Well, a little,” I responded embarrassedly. “But it’s not like you’re a block of ice. I thought vampires were supposed to be as cold as death, or something equally and dramatically poetic.”
    “Again,  amore,  it depends on the breed. Strigois and vetalas most certainly are. The moroi have rather chilly body temperatures, as do the pischachas. Sexual vampires, however cool to the touch, are the warmest of the breeds.
    “A vampire’s temperature depends on what they feed upon,” he said in much the same manner one would expect a physician to discuss clinical aspects of any given disease. “The strigoi and vetalas are purely psychic vampires, meaning they feed solely on energy. No blood, no physical life. Vampires like the moroi are exactly the opposite. They are solely blood drinkers.
    “Now, it is said that blood is the life, and that is true to an extent. There is energy within blood, but it is limited. Hence, they are slightly warmer than psychic vampires, though not by much.”
    “And being an incubus, you drink both—the physical and spiritual elements combined being more fulfilling.” I concluded. “But how is it other breeds survive without both?”
    “That  is something I have spent, and am still spending, a great deal of time trying to determine. As far as I have been able to tell, it has something to do with the components of the different viruses that make up the disease of vampirism.” He grinned. “However, it is difficult getting other breeds to comply with being tested when we all have a mutual dislike for the other.”
    I wasn’t sure how to