Eight

Charles looked down once more at Eliza's hand. "I think we should bandage that up."

She nodded. "I agree. Then what?"

"Then we skip dinner and go straight to dessert." He smiled, then led her to a bathroom that was just a few doors down from the kitchen.

Eliza sat on the fluffy black toilet seat cover and watched as Charles rummaged through the medicine cabinet. He pulled out a gauze bandage and tape and began the quiet task of wrapping her finger. She couldn't help but giggle when he was finished. "It looks so big and awkward."

"Well I'm sorry, but that's all I have," he said as he put the supplies back in the cabinet. "Does it feel okay?"

She studied it for a few seconds then shrugged her shoulders. "I don't feel anything anymore. So, I'm guessing that's a good thing."

"If you lose all feeling it won't be good," he laughed as he helped her up. "Let's go."

"If we're skipping dinner and moving onto dessert, shouldn't we bring the gauze with us?" She smiled jokingly, following Charles back to the living room they had been in earlier.

"Dessert should probably wait a little bit longer." He motioned to the couch. "Let's sit down. There are still some things I want to know about you."

"Okay," she sat and waited until he was settled. "Like what?"

"I just want to be sure we're on the same page. I'd also like to know about your background, if that's okay with you, of course." His warm smile had returned and it somewhat relaxed her.

"I feel like you're some kind of reporter trying to dig deep into my mind for an exciting headliner," she told him.

He reached out and rubbed her arm, helping to calm her nerves a bit more. "That's not my intention. I don't want you to feel that way. I just find you extremely interesting. But, you're also full of mysteries."

"Okay. Well, where should I start?"

"At the beginning I suppose," he chuckled.

"This is really weird, Charles. I mean, I never thought we would be discussing this." She rested her hands on her lap.

"Me either. But now that it's been brought up, I would like to talk more about it."

"Okay," she sighed. "I've had the same obsession, addiction -- whatever you wanna call it -- as you have since I was a child, too," she began. "But it didn't start with me. My parents were into it and my brother and I followed in their footsteps."

"Really?" His eyes widened with extreme interest.

She nodded. "Yes. They even went as far as naming me after the 'Blood Countess'."

"Elizabeth Bathory, right?"

"Yes, but they shortened it to Eliza, of course. My middle name is Bethany, which is pretty close. They altered her name and made mine their own creation."

"Intriguing," said Charles with a nod of his own.

"I guess it is. Anyway, my brother and I grew up with blood as part of our regular meals. My father would cut his own hand to show us how it was done when we were little. As we grew older, we moved onto more exciting methods. Ever since my parents passed away we've vowed to keep the tradition alive."

"So, you'll teach your future children as they did?" He asked.

"I hope so. Sometimes I doubt I will be able to. Especially if I don't marry in the future." She frowned as she thought about it. She'd do anything for a family that shared her love for blood as she did.

Charles sat up as he listened. "What else?"

"What else do you want to know?" She laughed, unsure of what he meant.

"I want to know how you go about quenching your thirst," he said.

"From myself, or my brother, usually." She said quickly, not wanting to mention the other ways.

"Usually? What about the times when you don't do that?"

It was as if he was reading her mind. "I get it however I possibly can."

"Do you kill people?"

His question was so blunt it shocked her and her mouth gaped open. She blinked a few times and cleared her throat. "Do you?"

He noticed her expression and quickly apologized. "I'm sorry, that must have sounded really strange."

"Yeah, it did. But, do you? Is that why you asked?" She raised an eyebrow in wonder.

"I have. But, not anymore." He confessed.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she let this piece of information sink in. "Wow," was all she managed to say.

"I'm not proud of it, but I won't lie." He watched her as she looked away nervously. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know if I should say anymore. If my brother found out, we would both be in great danger." Her eyes met his again, confirming that she was dead serious.

"I would never tell. You don't trust me?"

"I'm not sure yet. It's hard for me to trust people." She bit her lower lip, afraid she'd upset him.

"I think you do trust me to an extent. Otherwise you wouldn't have told me as much as you just did." He was so sure of himself it almost drove her insane.

"I don't trust you completely, Charles," she said. "It's not that simple."

"Well, tell me how I can gain your full trust." He leaned forward and took her wounded hand into his.

"I would need to see proof. Seeing is truly believing."

"But you saw what I did when you cut your finger, Eliza."

"That was nothing. It doesn't prove that you've killed anyone to satisfy your needs."

"Are you suggesting I kill someone?" It was his turn to be shocked.

"Maybe," she said with a peril grin. She liked the idea and was anxious to see what he would do. If he truly wanted her trust he would do anything. Now was the best time to test him.

"When? I'll prove it to you. I just don't want to be careless about it. The last thing we both need is to get caught."

"I'm not careless." She informed him. "But, I don't think killing someone would satisfy me right now. I want to see what you usually do." Her smile widened as she finished the sentence.

"Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Of course. I'm trying to see if you can handle it."

He clapped his hands together as he stood up. "Wonderful. Do you want to do this now?"

"There's no better time," she said with a nod, rising to her feet to join him.

"Follow me," he said, then led her down the same corridor they'd been through earlier. They passed the kitchen and took a right. A minute later they were standing in Charles' study. The room was beautiful, like the rest of his house. The only thing different about it was the dark stains that spread out across the carpet. Eliza found it strange but she didn't say anything. Instead, she stood and waited to see what he was going to do next.

Charles opened a drawer to the desk that was in the corner of the room. He rummaged through it for a few seconds before pulling out a long, slender blade. It looked as if it had been freshly sharpened. When he twirled it with his fingers slowly, it reflected the light in the room, giving itself an almost glowing effect. Eliza had never seen a knife as spectacular as the one he was holding. It was cared for very well.

He gestured for her to sit in the leather chair behind the desk. She did, without saying a word, and continued to watch his every move. He placed the blade on the desk and moved his fingers up the center of his white dress shirt until he reached the top button. Slowly, he unbuttoned it and let it slide off of his shoulders. Eliza watched in awe as he grabbed the knife again and walked to the center of the room. He stopped and stood there, turning so that he was facing the desk and her. As his shoulders rolled back slowly, Eliza couldn't help but admire his perfectly sculpted muscles. She held back a gasp of shock when she noticed the middle of his chest. There were tons of small scars. Some were old, some were new, but she knew that they were self-inflicted.

Charles placed the tip of the blade above his scars and looked at Eliza, smiling as he pierced his own flesh. He moved the knife downward, creating a thin slice that was about four inches long. The blood began to pour immediately. Not too much, but not too little. He flung the knife onto the carpet beside him as a loud noise escaped his mouth. It was a moan mixed with pain and pleasure. His head tipped back slightly as it continued to flow, leaving a thick red trail down his abdomen.

Eliza could feel her mouth filling with saliva as she watched Charles slide a finger down the trail of blood. He brought it up to his lips quickly, tasting and savoring it. The wound continued to bleed, causing him to cup his hands just below the cut, catching what he could in them.

She still couldn't believe what she was seeing. This handsome, brilliant, almost perfect man in front of her was too good to be true. The men in her past had claimed they shared the same fetish as she did, but none had ever proved it the way he was now. He was the only one that seemed to be enjoying himself as he displayed his darkest secret in front of her. The others would have stopped by now, finding any excuse they could for not being able to do it. But not Charles. He was now smearing the blood across his chest, repeatedly dipping his fingers into the fresh wound. Her heart jumped into her throat when he reached out, extending a hand for her to join him. Was she really ready for this? She didn't know, but she wasn't about to turn down the sweet taste of Charles' blood.

It took Eliza a minute to build up the courage to join him. When she stood she could feel her knees trying to give out. She held her composure though as she moved around the desk and to the center of the room, joining Charles. His hands gripped her wrists, pulling them up to his chest. The warmth of the blood excited her and she began to relax. Her hands wandered across his skin, but she didn't pull them away to taste the blood. Instead, she kneeled down slowly then moved back up, sliding her tongue from his navel to the middle of his chest. The taste of his blood sent shivers through her body. It was the sweetest she had ever tasted. Her index finger traced his open wound then slid across her lower lip. She took her time, watching and tasting him at the same time. They did nothing more than quench their thirst. When there was no more blood to satisfy them, they ended their fun.

Both were breathing heavily as they finished up. Charles laughed lightly at the mess they had made and suggested they go wash up. Eliza agreed and soon they were in the bathroom again, taking turns at the sink. Once the blood was completely rinsed off, they made their way back to the living room. They both sat on the couch, facing each other, smiling.

"That was amazing," Eliza said softly.

"Do you trust me now?" He grinned.

"Of course. Not only did your actions convince me, but the look in your eyes washed away any doubt that I had."

He was satisfied with her response. It was exactly what he was hoping for. "So this won't be the last time I get to see you?" He asked.

"Well, we work together, so-,"

"That's not what I meant," he said, interrupting her before she could finish.

"I know. I was joking. Anytime you want to see me, let me know."

"I want to see you tomorrow," he blurted out.

Eliza smiled, surprised and somewhat pleased. "Really?"

"Yes, Eliza. If you must know, I really like you." His cheeks flushed as he admitted that tiny bit of information.

Eliza blushed as well, flattered by what he had said. "The feeling is mutual. Tomorrow it is. Text me a time and I'll meet up with you."

"Will I ever be able to pick you up?" He asked with a quizzical smile.

"One day you will," she assured him as she rose to her feet. "I have to go now though, it's late."

Charles stood, nodding as he spoke. "Very well. Let me get my keys and I'll take you back to your car."

"Thank you."

Eliza adjusted her dress as she stood by the front door, patiently waiting for Charles to return with the keys. When he did, she looped her arm under his and they walked out to his car. He held the passenger's door open for her as she got inside. Once they were both buckled, Charles pulled the car out of the circular driveway and towards his uncle's bar & grill.

Their conversation was casual, discussing the upcoming week at work. It was almost as if what had just happened at his house was just a dream. But Eliza knew better. What they had experienced together was something special. It was something that she would never forget.