Free Nightlord: Sunset by Garon Whited Page B

is, the better the blood is.  Other than that, it’s just a matter of taste.  We need blood just as a sort of super-food.  If we’re quiet and don’t do much, we can go without blood for weeks… but won’t like it.
    After we ate—I ate again—we retired to the bedroom.  There are two things about daybloods and sex I might as well mention here.  A woman can be stimulated, even at night—perhaps especially at night, when her senses are heightened even further—to a pitch impossible in mortal women.  But a man cannot; the body and the blood do not respond as they should, no matter how much he wants them to.  During the day, both can have all the bedroom fun they can stand.  During the day, you can think of a dayblood as a mostly-mortal person.  It’s only at night that his vampiric state becomes obvious.
    On the other hand, a woman can never bear children again.  After the first night, her body rejects it in a spontaneous abortion.  But a man can reproduce with a mortal woman; this does not affect her, nor does it affect the child.  Vampirism of this sort requires the transfer of blood, and only blood—and one must drink quite a bit of the infected blood to have a chance of contracting the condition.  Blood transfusions, of course, bypass this requirement; a small hypodermic will do fine.
    There are other kinds of vampires, though.  Some more human-like, some less so.
    More of what’s-his-name’s notes.  Sorry.  Back to my train of thought.
    As we lay together, temporarily exhausted, I asked her how her day had gone.
    “Oh, well enough, my lord.  Lawyers are so tedious.  But there are things to sign and things to read, and there are always those who clamor for a moment of one’s time.  It is often boring and seldom fun, but is the price one pays for wealth.”
    “I suppose so.”
    “And your day?  How has it gone?”
    “It improved a lot about four this afternoon.”
    “Oh?”
    “You came home.”
    She dimpled.  “And before that?”
    “Pretty good. I spent the day reading your late husband’s notes.  Fascinating stuff.  I even tried a few small workings, and I can actually levitate a pen if I’m not too tired.”
    Sasha’s eyes shone.  “I suspected you might.  Can you do so for me?”
    “I’m too tired—and that’s your fault.”
    “Aye, it is,” she agreed, and smiled.  So she proceeded to make me even more tired.
     
    About eleven that night, Sasha came downstairs to the library.  After the sun went down, I’d had a nice little bout with her in the bedroom, discovering just how well I could play her nervous system when it was strung up tight.  She keened in the hypersonic range for several minutes before I let her come down.  I also discovered something that wasn’t in the notes; daybloods can apparently feed on each other’s blood simultaneously and it doesn’t seem to have much loss in the circuit.  Now that was fun; it was like a constant rush from feeding without the worry of killing someone.  I liked that a lot more.  Sasha tastes good, moreso than a normal human.  Maybe that comes with being a vampire.
    I was sitting and reading in the dark, enjoying the way light just didn’t seem necessary.  With sharper vision than I’d ever had before, the handwriting wasn’t too bad.
    “My love?”
    “Hmm?  Yes, dear?”
    “Earlier, you mentioned a few small workings?”
    I looked up.  She sounded very nonchalant.
    “I tried a few levitation and telekinetic tricks, and a weather spell.  Why?”
    “You were trying for what sort of weather?  May I ask?”
    I stared at her for a long moment, then asked, “Why?”
    “Just answer, please.”
    “I went for snow.  I knew I wouldn’t get it, but it was worth trying for to see how… much… Why are you smiling like that?”
    She beckoned, and I followed.
    Outside, it was frigidly cold and snowing.  Big, thick flakes were falling.  It was melting as fast as it hit, but the point was there—it was doing