“Tell me, Eric,” he said, licking a droplet from the corner of his mouth. “Have you ever tasted blood?” My mouth was so dry I could barely find the voice to answer him. “What an odd question...” “But a valid one. Well, have you?” “I’ve cut my lip before, so yes, I suppose I have tasted blood, but...” “Not your own, you foolish boy.” He let out a short, derisive laugh and leaned in so that he was only a few inches from my face. “I mean the blood of another.” “Good God, Stefan, of course not!” “Pity...”
Book:Corcitura