Feral: Book One by Velvet DeHaven

and vetalas are purely psychic vampires, meaning they feed solely on energy. No blood, no physical life. Vampires like the moroi are exactly the opposite. They are solely blood drinkers.
    “Now, it is said that blood is the life, and that is true to an extent. There is energy within blood, but it is limited. Hence, they are slightly warmer than psychic vampires, though not by much.”
    “And being an incubus, you drink both—the physical and spiritual elements combined being more fulfilling.” I concluded. “But how is it other breeds survive without both?”
    “That  is something I have spent, and am still spending, a great deal of time trying to determine. As far as I have been able to tell, it has something to do with the components of the different viruses that make up the disease of vampirism.” He grinned. “However, it is difficult getting other breeds to comply with being tested when we all have a mutual dislike for the other.”
    I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Despite the early hour, I already felt a headache developing, and I was beginning to give out underneath the information and emotions. I really did not want to have to think of anything too complicated at the time, so I simply said the first easy thing that popped into my mind. “Is Simon your real name?”
    “Simon is not my birth name, but it is my legal name currently. I was born Simundos Benasuti Geragio to Girardus Alviso Geragio, Marchese de Treviso in 1402. I guess it goes without saying as to where.”
    “You’re aristocracy.”
    “Yes.”
    “You said your father’s name. Why not your mother’s?” His eyes hardened so suddenly, so darkly that I winced and stuttered. “I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t…I’m sorry.” I bowed my head and almost instantly felt his fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face back to his.
    “Cara, I am not angry with you, if that is what you are thinking, and I know it is. It is simply that thinking of my mother, and indeed my father, brings to mind unpleasant memories.” He sighed. “But to answer your question in short, I was the product of infidelity on my father’s part, and as his wife could not give him an heir, I was the alternate to the son he truly wanted but would never have.”
    “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” I responded softly, feeling guilt welling up.
    “No, per favore . Please, do not be. It is in the past.”
    I stayed silent for a while, trying to beat my remorse into submission, finally succeeding and blurting out, “You’re old.”
    “Indeed. I have lived lifetimes, mostly in peace, but always with blood on my hands,” he said with gravity as he moved closer. “Would you now dare challenge me to kiss you, given what you have learned of me?”
    “Yes.”
    Now why did I say that?
    The question was swept from my mind as he dipped his face closer.
    His lips were not as cold as I would’ve imagined a vampire’s being. Then again, while I’d never known him to be  warm , he certainly had never been icy. A little on the chilly side, yes, but not  freezing . I had always assumed he had some sort of circulation problem, which usually resulted in cool extremities, but it seemed I was wrong in my presumption as to why he was always less-than-warm.
    I didn’t have much time to reflect on the subject as his cool lips ghosted over and parted mine ever-so-gently, his tongue tracing the seam of my upper lip before delving inside and allowing me to finally taste him.
    I waited for my mind to begin screaming in alarm, for my body to begin fighting against him in panic, but it never happened. My mind went pleasantly numb, save for any thoughts of him, and instead of struggling, my body swayed closer.
    I was so lost in his delicious kiss that I didn’t hear a deep growl or the sounds of wood and dry wall splintering and cracking around me. Before I could even comprehend what had happened, I felt my face slamming into a rough, unforgiving surface, and a twinge of terror