Free King's Blood: Vampire Descent (A Serial Novel, Part 4) by P.J. Day

of fat rather than wax, judging by its sour smell, was adorned with expensive-looking furniture and artwork. His king-sized bed, with an antique oak frame was placed on the other side of room from where I was sitting and had his Macbook sitting right on top of the silk bedspread. Next to me was a matching armoire which Milton had opened, revealing a crystal liquor set filled with blood. “Drink?” he asked.
    “ Sure,” I said. A vampire never rejects blood when offered, even if it comes from a questionable source.
    I sniffed the glass Milton handed to me. I gave him a suspicious glare. “What is this?”
    “Taste it,” he said, with a frivolous smile.
    I gently put the edge of the glass against my dry lips. The thick, semi-lumpy liquid brushed through my palate and raced down my throat. “Holy hell, that was incredible,” I said, my eyes lighting up like Christmas lights.
    Milton leaned into me and ecstatically asked, “Guess where it came from?”
    “ Umm...virgins?” I said, jokingly.
    “ Dead Mongolians,” he said, with a boorish grin.
    “ Thanks,” I said, in slight disgust as I placed the glass on his royal antique work desk. “Did you have a hand in murdering them, too?”
    “ No, of course not, they were already dead. They were all freshly deceased workers who died building that dam up river.” He lifted the glass and offered a toast, “To market reforms!”
    He drank the poor workers’ blood in one swig and slammed the bottom of the glass on the nicely lacquered wooden desk, leaving a circular dent in the finish. I didn’t bother drinking the rest of it. Even though one must be an opportunist and receive blood gracefully in any form, the thought that the drink was extracted from a person who probably died being exploited didn’t sit well with me.
    I carefully scanned the room as Milton’s eyelids drooped with drunkenness. The blood was very pure, and they say hard work and humidity breeds quality. Consumed with curiosity, I asked, “You’ve got a nice little setup over here. You steal this stuff?”
    “ Me, steal?” he said, laughing. “I don’t steal, I’m no thief. Just because we live underground and we have nice things, that doesn’t make us rats.”
    “ So, how did you score the bikes, the furniture, this nice liquor set? I doubt you work.”
    Milton shook his head exaggeratedly, “Wait a minute, aren’t you the one who is supposed to answer the questions?”
    “I was just curious.”
    Milton pulled a matching wooden chair from the side of the armoire and planted his foot on it, while resting his left forearm on his knee. “So, how did you manage to get Jenny doped up after you bit her?” he asked.
    “Don’t your victims act strange after they’re bitten? I mean after all, it’s a shock to the system, you know?”
    “ Don’t be silly, Jack. Jenny is a prostitute. She’s a nice girl but in the end, she is a whore, or whatever you want to call her,” he said, as he plopped onto the chair, putting the palms of his hands on both knees and leaning close into me. “She makes a living feeding us and she never feels euphoria when Kai or I neck on her.” He leaned back, and took a rather pensive posture. “In fact, I feel dirty doing it and so does she.”
    “ Well, I’m sorry to hear that, you just don’t have the right touch, I guess.”
    Milton stood up, kicked the chair and began yelling, “Don’t you lie? Her neck was instantly healed! How?” He opened the door to his room and called for Jenny. “Get your ass in here.”
    Jenny walked in with a bright smile on her face and asked, “Is Jack going to bite me?”
    “ No,” Milton scolded her. “Show him the left side of your neck.”
    Jenny pushed away her silky, black hair and revealed two bumpy callouses on her neck.
    “See the scars?” Milton asked, as he grabbed Jenny’s hair, exposing her neck. “Where did you bite her that night in the club?”
    “ On her right side?” I said, rather unsure.
    “