POV: Lyra Quinn
I stood over the tray of neatly arranged samples like I was preparing to seduce a vampire with a charcuterie board. In hindsight… I kind of was.
"Alright, today's test is focused on your ability to taste a range of human foods. Sweet, sour, salty, umami, bitter," I announced, ticking each one off with my gloved finger. "We'll measure your salivary response, sensory input, and—most importantly—how dramatic your face gets."
Vincent arched a dark brow from his seat on the examination table. "I'm honored to be your little snack puppet, Dr. Quinn."
"That's taste puppet," I corrected, trying not to stare at the vein on his neck. Or the tattoos curling over his forearms like black vines, half-hidden by the rolled-up sleeves of his lab-issued shirt. Seriously, who let him look like that?
He leaned back, baring a perfect smirk. "Same difference."
God help me.
I grabbed the clipboard and cleared my throat. "Control sample first: filtered water." I handed him a plastic cup.
He took a sip, then paused. "Mm. Notes of nothing. Hints of despair."
"I'll add 'pretentious wine commentary' to your symptoms," I said, scribbling.
"Please do." He set the cup down. "Let's move to the exciting stuff."
I held up the next sample—a slice of lemon—and gestured dramatically like I was revealing the winning prize on a game show. "Sour."
Vincent took it between his fingers, deliberately slow, and popped it in his mouth. His face twisted instantly.
"Ugh—what is that, acid?" he choked.
"It's a lemon, you drama queen," I laughed. "Do vampires not have lemons in their tragic backstories?"
"We do, we just don't willingly eat them." He grabbed the water to rinse out the taste. "I feel personally attacked."
"Oh, you will be."
Next up: strawberry.
He eyed it suspiciously. "This is a trap."
"It's not a trap."
"You're looking at me like it's a trap."
I shrugged. "Only if you're allergic to vitamin C."
With exaggerated suspicion, Vincent took the strawberry, sniffed it, and took a bite. His eyes fluttered shut for half a second—just long enough to betray how much he actually liked it.
Then he snapped them open again. "It's… tolerable."
"That face says otherwise."
"This face says I'm being emotionally manipulated by fruit."
"I'm writing that down," I muttered.
Things escalated when I brought out the chocolate.
He froze. "Oh no."
"What?"
"That stuff messes with our head chemistry," he said, leaning back. "It's like... vampire catnip. You're about to see me at my worst."
My eyes narrowed. "Define 'worst.'"
"Touchy. Flirty. Possibly unbearable."
I smirked, unwrapping the square and holding it up. "In that case, open up."
He blinked. "What?"
"I said open up, Subject V. It's feeding time."
Vincent didn't move. He just stared at me, like he couldn't decide if I was joking or about to climb into his lap.
So, naturally, I leaned in and gently pressed the piece of chocolate to his lips.
He hesitated… then accepted it, eyes locked with mine the whole time.
Slow. Melty. Tension so thick, you could slice it with a scalpel.
His tongue flicked out to catch the last smear of chocolate on his bottom lip, and I immediately forgot every line of protocol I'd ever written.
"...You good?" I asked, voice a little hoarse.
Vincent licked his teeth. "You're trying to kill me, Dr. Quinn."
"Nope. That's not until the arsenic tasting test."
He grinned—grinned—like I'd just proposed marriage. Or murder. With him, the line was thin.
We went through cheese, chips, black coffee, and a dollop of honey (he loved that one and tried to pretend he didn't), and by the end, he looked far too pleased with himself.
"I think your vampire tastebuds are more functional than mine," I said, jotting down notes. "Also, if you moan one more time during honey, I'm filing a complaint."
"Was it a moan or a purr?" he asked innocently. "Hard to tell sometimes."
I glared.
He winked.
And then, because I wasn't entirely made of stone, I burst out laughing and dropped my clipboard.
---
Later That Night
I was in the lab's side office, reviewing the sensory data on screen when the door creaked open.
Vincent leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Just checking to make sure you're not writing an entire romance novel about my strawberry reaction."
I didn't even look up. "Too late. Chapter one: The Vampire Who Blushed."
"I didn't blush."
"You did. Right after the chocolate."
"I was overwhelmed by the taste. Not the feeder."
I finally turned, arching a brow. "Sure."
There was a pause.
Then, with deliberate casualness, he said, "We should try spicier stuff next time. Something that really gets the blood going."
"I thought you were terrible with heat."
"Oh, I am," he said with a wicked grin. "But I think it'd be fun to see what you do when I sweat."
I choked on my water. "You are the worst test subject in the world."
"Don't worry," he said, retreating back into the hallway. "I'm just warming up."
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