Vesper sat on the red velvet armrest of his throne-like chair, twirling a small crystal glass filled with dark crimson liquid between his pale fingers.
The glass caught the light from the chandelier above, casting ruby shadows across his sharp features. Several identical glasses sat on the glassy table beside him, some empty, others barely touched.
A line of female maids stood before him like soldiers awaiting orders, their heads bowed in perfect submission. The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the soft clink of glass against his rings as he continued his restless twirling.
He lifted the glass to his lips and took a careful sip. The moment the liquid touched his tongue, his face contorted in disgust. His jaw clenched, and he pulled the glass away from his mouth as if it had burned him.
"I clearly said I want O negative blood." His voice was low, dangerous. "So what the hell is this?"