Selena shrugged. “Well, yes. But teachings not so bad. Sometimes you get a student who’s really talented in a big way and it’s wonderful to watch them develop and help them get scholarships for college, you know? But to be honest, my heart is there.” She nodded down at her violin case. “It has been since I first picked up a violin at the age of twelve.”
“It’s admirable that you knew what you wanted to do so early in life,” Valen remarked. “I didn’t know I wanted to be a Defender until I neared the age of maturity.”
“Actually, twelve is pretty old to start the violin,” Selena told him. “For a serious musician, anyway. Many of the really famous violinists are started on their instrument as young as three or four. Maybe if my parents had started me then, I wouldn’t have to teach to make ends meet.” She sighed and looked up at him. “But enough about me—I think the fact that you’re a, uh, vampire is way more interesting than the fact that I’m a violinist.”
“Ah, but you chose your violin—I never chose to be a Pitch-Blood.” He sounded bitter, Selena thought.
“Why? Is it a bad thing to be a, uh, Pitch-Blood?” she asked. “I mean, if you don’t mind telling me,” she added.
They were having a rather intimate conversation, which surprised her, to be honest. She never would have pegged the dark, irritated warrior she’d first met aboard the shuttle to be so open to talking about himself.
But of course back then he was hangry, she reminded herself. And if he felt like he was starving, no wonder he was so irritable.
“No, I don’t mind explaining, though it’s not a happy tale,” he said, sounding rather bleak. “We Pitch-Blood Kindred are a mutation of the normal Blood Kindred, who don’t need to drink blood to survive. We are pitied by our kinsmen because we cannot give pleasure with our bite, unless we are also, er, stimulating a female in other ways.”
“Stimulating them in other ways? Oh…okay, I get it.” Selena bit her lip, feeling her cheeks get hot. She’d heard from Kat that biting was considered to be a sexual act among the Blood Kindred, though her friend hadn’t given her a lot of details, probably because she was married to Twin Kindred herself.
“You see what I mean,” Valen said. “So we go through life having to hurt females to get what we need from them—and giving any kind of pain to a female is anathema to a Kindred warrior.”
“Any kind of pain at all? What about if you’re, you know, doing a BDSM scenario?” Selena asked before she thought about it.
Then she bit her lip even harder. Why had she said that? And why was the big Kindred she hardly knew so easy to talk to? Maybe because he had talked so frankly about himself and had been so open about what kind of Kindred he was and what he needed. But she couldn’t let that lull her into saying things she shouldn’t—she really had to watch her mouth!
“BDSM?” he asked, frowning. “Do you mean the Band-Dependent Spatial Majority algorithm? How would one do that with a partner?”
“Um, no—not exactly.” Selena cleared her throat self-consciously. “I just meant…uh…” She searched for a way to put it. “Don’t Kindred ever, you know, dabble in…in intense sensations? And role play? And that kind of thing?”
“Intense sensations? Role play?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You seem to be talking a lingo I’m not familiar with. Does it have anything to do with the book I saw you reading on the shuttle?”
Selena felt like her face was so hot, her hair might catch on fire.
“Um, sort of,” she admitted. “But really I just meant, what if you found a girl who likes being bitten?”
“I have not met a female yet who enjoys allowing me to puncture her skin with my fangs on a regular basis, when I cannot offer her any pleasure to compensate for the pain I must cause her, because I am unable to inject Essence while I feed on her,” Valen said dryly. “Though you have certainly given me food for thought,” he added.
He cleared his throat and sat up straighter.
“Speaking of food, though—have you had enough? Would you like me to order more?” He nodded down at the silver tray of fruits and cheeses, which she had eaten most of.
Selena felt a rush of shame. She was really glad he was changing the subject away from her embarrassing reading material, but she couldn’t help feeling bad about eating so much—especially in front of such a handsome man. How many first dates had she been on, where she ordered salad and a water and still felt as though people in the restaurant were staring at her for eating too much? Being curvy was complicated and often meant being judged continuously—or that was what it felt like, anyway.