Through his fitted T-shirt, she could clearly make out the outline of his pecs as they strained against the fabric, and his arms were so bulky, the Lycra was doing double-time to keep them contained. "Not even this," she gestured across his chest, ignoring the smug smile he wore. "Blood consumption doesn't give you some sort of super strength or extra muscle building powers?"
"No, the steroids do that." His face was expressionless.
She rolled her eyes. "Figures."
"Although..." a smile cracked the deadpan, "I'm pretty sure the steroids farmers put in my hamburger probably have less to do with it than the hours I spend in the gym. Us meatheads like to hit the weights, you know."
As hard as she tried to fight it, she could barely contain the grin threatening to lift the corners of her mouth. "That's not very vampire-like of you."
"Not at all."
She pulled over a barstool. The number of questions she had warranted taking a seat. And at this rate, it would take a while to get through them.
"Can I make you another drink?" Slade asked, retrieving a clean glass from beneath the bar and wagging it at her. "No charge. I can't stand to watch you drink that watered down shit any longer.
She glanced toward the offending cocktail left behind at the table. There wasn't a square of ice left in it. "Sure." Kate wasn't much of a drinker anymore — between Melanie and herself someone had to stay moderately sober — but she certainly wasn't against it. However, she'd done enough damage to her liver in college she now tried to minimize the booze consumption. It wasn't the easiest task in a city like New Orleans. "So, you really don't have any special powers or enhanced senses or extra long life or anything?"
"I'm not sure about the extra long life yet," he winked at her, "but no to the other stuff."
"Huh." She was surprised. From what Hail described, and from what she'd seen with Angel, she assumed he'd get something special from it besides just health.
Slade squeezed a lime into the clear, bubbling liquid and slid the glass to her. "Is that all you wanted to know?"
She took a quick sip. Once again, he had poured a superior beverage. "No. But you know that already. You could volunteer the information instead of going through this song and dance."
"The more questions you ask, the longer you have to sit here and talk to me."
"Please. Spare me. You just like making me beg you for information."
"Maybe I like being near you."
The comment caught her off guard and she nearly choked on the mouthful of liquid in her mouth. "Uh-huh." She managed to get the words out without coughing and with a heaping dose of sarcasm at the same time. "How often do you need to drink it?" she asked instead, hoping to move the conversation along.
"Couple times a week. Usually thirty to forty mL," he added quickly, before she had the chance to open her mouth and ask the question, "how much?"
Lest he think she was no longer playing his game, she inclined her head and toasted him. "Thank you."
"Anytime."
"Do you have a girlfriend or something you get it from?"
"No. Are you volunteering?"
"Um, no." There was no way she could ever date a player-type like Slade. Between her brother and the guys her sister dated in high school, and the one she married, Kate knew what his type was like. She preferred not to be cheated on in a relationship. "Do you do the bagged blood then?"
"Wish I could, but I can't."
"Why? It doesn't have the right energy or something?" She could tell by Slade's expression her tone had come out more mocking than she intended. He didn't seem offended though, only amused.
"If only it were that simple. The anti-coagulants make me puke."
At least when he answered her questions he was blunt and didn't pussyfoot around.
"Then where…?"
"I have a Donor. She's a friend of mine."
"Oh." Kate felt her eyebrows push together. "But she's not a lover or anything?"
"Nope."
"Well, then, how—? I mean, doesn't it make it awkward to…get the
"No, the steroids do that." His face was expressionless.
She rolled her eyes. "Figures."
"Although..." a smile cracked the deadpan, "I'm pretty sure the steroids farmers put in my hamburger probably have less to do with it than the hours I spend in the gym. Us meatheads like to hit the weights, you know."
As hard as she tried to fight it, she could barely contain the grin threatening to lift the corners of her mouth. "That's not very vampire-like of you."
"Not at all."
She pulled over a barstool. The number of questions she had warranted taking a seat. And at this rate, it would take a while to get through them.
"Can I make you another drink?" Slade asked, retrieving a clean glass from beneath the bar and wagging it at her. "No charge. I can't stand to watch you drink that watered down shit any longer.
She glanced toward the offending cocktail left behind at the table. There wasn't a square of ice left in it. "Sure." Kate wasn't much of a drinker anymore — between Melanie and herself someone had to stay moderately sober — but she certainly wasn't against it. However, she'd done enough damage to her liver in college she now tried to minimize the booze consumption. It wasn't the easiest task in a city like New Orleans. "So, you really don't have any special powers or enhanced senses or extra long life or anything?"
"I'm not sure about the extra long life yet," he winked at her, "but no to the other stuff."
"Huh." She was surprised. From what Hail described, and from what she'd seen with Angel, she assumed he'd get something special from it besides just health.
Slade squeezed a lime into the clear, bubbling liquid and slid the glass to her. "Is that all you wanted to know?"
She took a quick sip. Once again, he had poured a superior beverage. "No. But you know that already. You could volunteer the information instead of going through this song and dance."
"The more questions you ask, the longer you have to sit here and talk to me."
"Please. Spare me. You just like making me beg you for information."
"Maybe I like being near you."
The comment caught her off guard and she nearly choked on the mouthful of liquid in her mouth. "Uh-huh." She managed to get the words out without coughing and with a heaping dose of sarcasm at the same time. "How often do you need to drink it?" she asked instead, hoping to move the conversation along.
"Couple times a week. Usually thirty to forty mL," he added quickly, before she had the chance to open her mouth and ask the question, "how much?"
Lest he think she was no longer playing his game, she inclined her head and toasted him. "Thank you."
"Anytime."
"Do you have a girlfriend or something you get it from?"
"No. Are you volunteering?"
"Um, no." There was no way she could ever date a player-type like Slade. Between her brother and the guys her sister dated in high school, and the one she married, Kate knew what his type was like. She preferred not to be cheated on in a relationship. "Do you do the bagged blood then?"
"Wish I could, but I can't."
"Why? It doesn't have the right energy or something?" She could tell by Slade's expression her tone had come out more mocking than she intended. He didn't seem offended though, only amused.
"If only it were that simple. The anti-coagulants make me puke."
At least when he answered her questions he was blunt and didn't pussyfoot around.
"Then where…?"
"I have a Donor. She's a friend of mine."
"Oh." Kate felt her eyebrows push together. "But she's not a lover or anything?"
"Nope."
"Well, then, how—? I mean, doesn't it make it awkward to…get the
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