Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)

“Uh, please explain,” Lauren said, staring at him blankly.

“Your vampire lore is not accurate. We do possess some of the qualities featured in your stories—such as enhanced speed, strength, and sensual awareness. But we are born the same way humans are born—through conception—and we die the same way humans die, after approximately one hundred years, assuming external factors don’t claim our lives sooner.”

“Wow. So your lifespan is no longer than that of humans?” Angie reiterated.

“Our natural lifespan is more or less the same as humans,” Navan corrected, casting his brother a grim look.

“If we consumed nothing but the blood of animals native to our planet,” Bashrik explained, “then we would die after about a hundred years.”

“So you do consume blood, then?” Lauren asked. “Only blood?”

“Blood is our preferred meal,” Navan replied. “And though we can drink other substances, too—especially for medicinal purposes—our bodies are not designed to eat solid foods.”

“So… are you, like, sitting there lusting after our blood right now?” Lauren ventured, a morbid look on her face. “I’m totally not offering it to you,” she added quickly. “Just curious.”

Bashrik chuckled.

Navan looked less amused. “Your blood is too foreign to be immediately tempting to us,” he said, looking at me even though it was Lauren who had asked the question. “It would have to be synthesized in order for us to benefit from it. After synthesis, however…” His expression grew dark as his voice trailed off. He looked away, toward the woods, focusing on no specific thing. “After that… your blood could prove to be very valuable to us, indeed.”

His words hung ominously in the air, and for a few moments, no one said anything.

“What Navan means is,” Ianthan said, breaking the silence with his higher-pitched, nasally voice, “your blood is most likely what our race has been seeking for the past four years.”

Angie jerked forward. “Our blood?”

“Human blood in general.” Navan’s gaze had returned to me, and there were so many layers of emotion glimmering there that I could only wonder what he was thinking. “Four years ago, one of Vysanthe’s most… esteemed alchemists put forward what became known as the Immortality Theory. The basic essence of the theory is that the right type of blood could extend our lives indefinitely, as long as we kept taking it. For decades, we have known the effect that certain foreign species’ blood can have on us—we have already figured out how to extend our lives for up to fifty years past our natural expiration with the use of blood from neighboring planets. So, immortality is naturally the next step.

“The theory posed that the farther the planet, the harder the blood is to synthesize, but the more effective it is once we have figured out how to absorb it. The alchemist argued that there was likely some planet in the universe whose predominant species’ blood held the right potency and balance of chemicals to achieve immortality—we just needed to venture far enough.”

He paused, and I realized I was hardly breathing.

“And you believe that blood is ours,” I said slowly, the pieces suddenly falling into place. “You never planned to return us back home after we drank the Elysium—you were going to kill us and drink our blood!” My muscles tensed and my eyes shot to the doorway, where Jethro still stood.

Navan held up a hand and shook his head.

“Our race is out for your blood. We, however”—he gestured to his small group—“are not.”

“Then why are you here?” Angie asked, her blue eyes narrowing.

“Navan would never take credit for this, but he personally discovered Earth about a year ago,” Bashrik said.

“As far as I am aware, nobody other than the coldbloods with me here on this patch of land are even aware of Earth’s existence yet,” Navan said, ignoring his brother.

“How did you discover Earth then?” I asked. “And how can you be sure you’re the only ones?”

“Because I am a man of high rank back on Vysanthe—one of two Chiefs in charge of exploration missions. I know the type of technology that is available to our teams… and none of it is yet advanced enough to reach this far into the universe. My ship is unique.” He added this last part haltingly, almost shyly, as if he didn’t want to let on how proud he was of the ship. He glanced at the silvery sphere, a flicker of fondness in his eyes. “It’s the only one capable of traveling the distance. Jethro is a gifted mechanic as well as an experienced medic, and together, we figured out how to build what our fellows couldn’t. At the time, I just wanted a ship better than anyone else so that I could… well, get as far away from Vysanthe as possible.”

“Why is that?” I asked, frowning.

Navan looked truly uncomfortable at the question, and my fear that we were about to be devoured ebbed. “I’m sure you’ve got your ideas about who we are, what we’re like,” he said. “I’d venture to say they’re probably all wrong. Let’s just say I’m not proud of my species. I was originally trained as an alchemist, but about midway through my training, I decided to become an explorer instead—mainly because it afforded me frequent opportunities to get away from a culture that I honestly despise.”

He practically spat the last word, and I was taken aback by his emotion. It felt like a very personal thing for him to share with us, and I wasn’t expecting him to go this deep into his personal history. Now that he was, however, I’d be damned if I didn’t make the most of it. “Why do you hate it so much?” I pressed.

He looked up at me, and it suddenly felt as if everything else had fallen away, that we were the only two in the room. “I’m not sure if this is included in our little question and answer session,” he muttered.

“It’s a question,” I said. “So you have to answer.”

“Do I?” he asked softly—his tone somewhere between curious and dangerous. “I’m not used to being told what to do.”

I held his gaze, swallowing. “Yes,” I said. “You do.”

The seconds ticked by, and I found myself uncertain of how he was going to respond. His stare sent an almost electric shiver through me. My surroundings seemed to blur as the world narrowed down to just the two of us, existing in our own private universe. I had never experienced anything like it before—was it some sort of mind trick? I’d had trouble holding his gaze when we’d first met in the fields, too. It felt as though we had some sort of connection, though I knew how crazy that sounded. He was a creature from another planet—why the hell would I feel a connection with something like that?