Thirty-One
“ Y ou can go out in the sun. You still have a reflection. What about iron? Wooden stakes?”
I had been peppering the afternoon with questions—how could I not when I had a creature, another species, in the flesh, resting between my legs? In between kisses, when he was able to take his mouth off of me, when I was able to catch my breath, reality would creep in and I’d remember that he was no longer human, and it would settle into me, deep and heavy, an impossibility that had somehow become the truth.
And I didn’t know how to feel about that.
This particular question earned me a laugh. His eyes gleamed.
“My atoms don’t suddenly defy physics.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Besides, anyone getting stabbed in the chest with a sharp piece of wood would probably die. ”
I curled a lock of his hair around my finger. “I’ve read the fairytales.”
“Honestly, I didn’t realize how much you knew about vampires.” He sounded amused, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer. His body was still warm with the aftermath of our morning and afternoon. But he just held me, keeping me close, his head cradled against my chest, like he was listening in on my heart.
His auburn hair shone in the soft sunlight coming in through the windows. I never thought I’d be able to run my fingers through his hair again.
His shoulders were broad, wider than they had been when he left. He’d grown into his adult body, and the thought only made me mourn that we had been kids when he’d been threatened, separated. A young man, little more than a teenager, punished for falling in with a rich girl, and sent off to die.
My hands flitted across his shoulders. There was strength in his muscles, a rigidness that couldn’t be hidden by clothes.
He lifted a finger to my chin, bringing me back to him. “I am as real as ever,” he said, like he knew what I was thinking. He always had a habit of that. Our minds must have been intrinsically linked. “I haven’t changed that much.”
But he had. The price for his return was the loss of his humanity.
“But you drink blood.” It still felt wrong, a lie on my lips.
He inhaled, hummed an agreement.
“Will you drink my blood?” I said it before I could stop it, before I could think better of it. To ask such a question felt lewd. And his eyes darkened for a brief moment, like the thought either excited him or hurt him. I couldn’t tell.
He exhaled. “I will.”
Even if I didn’t know how to react, my body did. A shiver went down my spine, the silky caress of lust, an awareness suddenly of his sex against my leg. As though his drinking my blood was synonymous with taking me for the first time. A new first. His gaze would already flick toward my pulse. I found him staring at me, at my neck, my thighs, almost lost in thought, pupils dilating.
He noticed the change in my demeanor.
“Until you say the word, I will be thinking about it every moment. I have thought about it every moment since I became this creature.” He propped himself up on his elbows, strong hands bracing on either side of my face, his palms sending a chill through my cheeks. “I’ve thought about you every second since I went overseas. And it didn’t stop when I changed. You must know that I hunger for you.”
His stare was intense, his words causing heat to flush my face. Blood. Rushing to my cheeks, warm.
Once more, his eyes flicked toward my neck. His throat slid. “The first coherent thought I had after I was changed was, how do I get to you? How can I drink you ?”
He leaned forward, nose tracing along my throat. A breathy laugh escaped me, nervously, secretly thrilled. I pushed on his shoulder. The daring part of me wanted to see what he would do, how it would happen, but my fear overwhelmed me.
What was I doing ? How could I be okay with this?
He was not Adam. He’d told me as much. How could I expect anything to be the same? He wanted me, wanted to drink me. To take my blood from me, for his own pleasure. He wasn’t the young man who wanted to take care of me any longer; he was an entirely new being.
He said he hadn’t changed that much, but the only part of him I truly recognized was his face.
Restraining himself, he lay back down next to me. “But you must say it, or I won’t.”
“If you bite me, will I change too?” I whispered.
The horror of it flashed in my mind. I’d have to drink blood, too. I couldn’t imagine—
“No. It takes more than a bite—otherwise, the world would be overrun with us, and we’d be stuck with no sustenance.”
“You cannot… bite each other?”
Realizing how little I knew, how much there really was to vampires and their feeding habits.
“We can, but humans are… preferable.” He folded his arm under his head, leaning his cheek on his bicep.
“How strange,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I traced the soft curve of his lip with my finger, the sharp edge to his cheekbone, the cut of his jaw. He shut his eyes like he was a prize dog being pet by its master.
“Mmm,” he hummed again.
I thought for a moment.
“Do you have a coffin?”
He groaned, face falling into the crook of my neck. “So many questions.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the flesh of my shoulder. “Maybe I’ll bite you now so you won’t have to be so curious anymore.”
He said it in jest, a mischievous gleam in his eye, but I heard the unspoken question.
Was it even something I wanted?
Did I want to follow him into that world?
I couldn’t imagine it, and the prospect sunk deep into me like a stone, turning my stomach. Though this man before me looked so familiar, felt so familiar, I couldn’t dismiss the little voice in my head that told me it was all a ruse, too good to be true.