Half the time, he forgot the vampire was a king. It was hard to remember when Alexander had been nothing but rude to him.
“I feel fine,” Alexander said.
“That’s good,” Brett replied. He stepped closer, studying Alexander carefully, his eyes moving over him with intense focus. “Have you experienced any blackouts? Waking up and realizing you’ve lost time?”
“No.”
“You haven’t noticed any dark veins under your skin? Anything unusual?”
“No.”
Brett nodded slightly, then asked, “Do you have any irrational urges to kill or dominate?”
The question was met with silence. Boaz turned around to find Alexander staring at him.
Fuck.
Boaz swallowed hard.
“No,” Alexander finally said as he looked away.
“Alright,” Brett said, gesturing toward the table. “Come this way. I’m going to take your blood.”
Alexander moved, but slowed as he got closer, his steps stalling just short of the table.
The room went quiet again.
“Can you remove the basin?” Alexander said, his voice edged with irritation. “It reeks.”
Boaz followed his gaze to the porcelain basin Brett had just used to clean his wound.
He walked over, grabbed the basin, and lifted it off the table.
“You don’t have to be rude,” he said as he turned and headed for the door.
Manlius followed him out into the hallway.
Boaz stopped, running a hand through his hair as he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.
The vampire was really pushing him.
He turned and shoved the basin into Manlius’s hands.
“Let me know how the test goes,” Boaz said. “And if we need to kill the bastard once and for all.”
Manlius looked at him, amusement flickering in his eyes.
“You want to kill him… after you saved him?” he asked
“Yes. I must have been out of my mind,” Boaz groaned. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
Manlius chuckled. “You wanted to save him. Who am I to get in your way?”
Boaz huffed, a low growl slipping out as he turned and walked out of the house, not bothering to respond.
He headed straight for his truck, climbed in, and started the engine. Without a second thought, he drove off.
The drive back felt longer than it should have. His mind kept circling the same things— the way Alexander had looked at him, the way he’d reacted to the smell his blood, the way everything about him felt… off. The way Boaz had felt every time the bastard’s eyes went red.