I like the taste of blood.
To the point that, after I patched up the wife a few weekends ago, I was strongly tempted to lick the blood off my fingers (she had cut herself, and bled everywhere… I applied first aid, and she is fine).
I didn’t, as it had started to dry and was loosing it’s appeal, and I was worried the wife would freak out.
Yes, I find that feasting on other people’s blood is just not the same when it is starting to congeal. Anyway, I have always assumed, in what is probably a total WAG, that that not-unpleasant metallic tang is down to the iron in the haemoglobin, which I vaguely remember from Biology lessons. I am probably totally wrong about that.
Downing a glass of cobra blood is supposed to be the sign of a real man in certain quarters here. Guess I’ll remain a wimp. Drinking snake blood is more of a Chinese thing, though, I believe.
So how long HAVE you been a junkie anyway? 
Recovered.
Three hours.
I confess, after reading a lot of Evangelion stories, and being in general good health*, I’ve sometimes wondered exactly what blood tastes like myself, and what the best way of finding out would be.
*I just don’t end up bleeding that often, or with much volume. I did, however, once gouge my finger so I could check the back of a bank deposit envelope in blood (I didn’t have a pen).
I like sucking on small wounds, and find the bloodiness of medium cooked meat to be tasty as well. But when I had a tooth taken out, either the amount of blood in my mouth or else the fact that it went “stale” or perhaps that it was combined with cotton turned me off.