Skye
When I was a little girl, I had these amazing dreams almost every night. I could have gone anywhere in the dream realm, coasting on ribbons of thoughts and memories that didn’t belong to me, but one place felt like home more than others. One place with scratchy chairs, sconces lighting the floor, and otherwise, darkness.
I still don’t know why I used to have dreams about the observatory on the campus where I now work as a professor. I don’t know why that little, nameless boy haunted those dreams. His memory is starting to fade with every year that passes, but I know one thing for certain.
I am meant to be here.
Not because of my brain.
Not because of my advancements in physics and the world of science as a whole.
Not because of my map of distant stars that witches will one day use to strengthen their magic.
No, it’s because of this. Gods, I feel it in my bones the second I press my bare wrist to Alex’s lips.
His eyes meet mine, unsure, maybe even a little scared. How long did he say it’s been since he’s done this? A decade? Longer?
There’s so much I need to know. So much he can tell me about a magical species we thought was extinct, and yet, he’s here, closing his eyes, sighing deeply against my skin before dragging his fangs over the little blue veins thrumming with blood beneath my skin.
It’s no more than a pinch, like getting a shot. Like having my blood drawn. I barely feel it when he sinks his fangs through my skin and holds there, arms straining against the belt keeping him locked to the staircase for my protection and his, I believe. His body angles toward mine, his chest rising and falling with the deepest breath I’ve ever heard him take, and then he… sucks.
“Oh,” I rush out, kneeling between his legs. The pull is insane. The suction. The warmth of it? I can’t even put what this feels like into words. He takes a single swallow and holds again, struggling. He unlatches, panting a bit, his tongue pressed to the two deep, crimson fang marks marring my wrist.
For a moment, my skin heats with sudden fear, but not because of him. “Do I… taste bad?”
He opens his eyes, pupils dilated to little black specks. “No. You taste unreal.”
“Is that a good thing?”
He holds my gaze. He doesn’t so much as blink. Doesn’t so much as breathe.
“Alex, take more.”
“No.” His eyes are intense–bright and honed on my face like he’s fighting to remain calm in his body and to not let his mind and vampiric instincts take over–much like a shifter would, I suppose. We can’t be all that different at our cores.
“Please. You need it. I can tell you need it.”
“You don’t know anything about me, Skye. Nor my kind. Nor what someone–something–like me is capable of. I could kill you before you realized what was happening. I feel like–as long as it’s been since I’ve tasted–” He draws in a breath, mouthing, “fuck it,” and aggressively clamps down on my wrist again.
I nearly lurch back. The breath that leaves my lungs is long and narrow–a whoosh of surprise, and interestingly enough, pleasure. This feels good. Warm. Calming. Heavy. Each pull feels delicious and makes my heart race, which makes Alex groan like he can feel it, that change of pressure. I lean toward him until we’re chest to chest, my body heavier than it’s ever felt and warmer than I thought possible. He takes a pull of my blood, then another, and another, each deep and lingering.
The room begins to darken, shadows creeping where they shouldn’t. I feel sleepy. It sneaks up on me in bright tingles that stretch from my wrist to my shoulder. I press my cheek to the crook of his shoulder and find him shockingly warm and wonderfully solid.
Another smooth, deep groan radiates through his chest, and then he lets me go. My arm falls limp by my side, but I remain glued to him, listening to the faint thump of his heart–so much slower than mine.
His body is slack, unmoving. I’m too dizzy to look up at him to ensure he’s not asleep, and instead, keep my cheek pressed to his chest for several minutes in silence.
Finally, he whispers, much calmer and smoother than before, “Give me your wrist again.”
I obey for some strange reason, physically preparing myself to be drained to the last drop, but when I turn in his lap–because there’s no hiding that is where I’ve ended up–and extend my wrist to his lips, he just… holds my gaze and drags his tongue across the two deep gashes in my skin, and the wounds pull together, completely healed.
I marvel at it for a moment before meeting his gaze again. His skin is different–brighter, less sallow and gray. He’s almost peachy in the shadows, and with a sense of pride, I realize it’s because of me. My blood.
“You can untie me now, if you want to.”
“Are you sure?”
He nods, and I rise, trembling a bit. My legs tingle painfully, either from lack of blood or sitting in one position for so long, but I deftly unfasten the belt, and he removes his wrists from the tangle of leather that kept him bound. Likely, he could’ve just broken through the restraint now that he’s eaten, but this is better. He doesn’t rise right away. He leans back against the wall and stays splayed out on the floor like this is just as overwhelming for his body as it is for mine.
“You need to eat something,” he says, his voice low and deep. “Immediately.”
“What should I eat?” I move toward the kitchen, steadying myself on pieces of furniture until I reach the kitchen island.
“Salt and sugar. You’ll feel better quicker that way. Back home, feeders are well taken care of and have a very finely tuned diet.”
“Feeders?” I open the fridge and find a container of yogurt, some granola, and a sports drink I was saving for Abby because I know she likes them.
“It’s what we call the people–shifters–who offer themselves to us. For blood, of course.”
“They do that willingly?” I can imagine why. I quickly make a bowl of yogurt, quietly wondering why that felt so good, while he remains against the wall. I can feel him watching me, and I know, before I can fix my confused and flushed expression, that he knows exactly what I’m thinking about.
“We can’t do that again.”
I lick my lips. They tingle, just like my whole body is tingling, trying to make sense of the loss and the lack of a wound. My powers are equally rattled, and I notice Alex has a faint glow to his eyes that he didn’t have before.
“You have Stardust in your system now,” I say, and he smiles softly.
“Barely enough to have a reaction. It’s been almost a day. I think this is just you.” He examines his hand before forming a fist.
“Why can’t we do that again?” I take a bite of yogurt and settle on the couch, putting what I hope is a comfortable amount of distance between us, even though I think he might be the one who wants the distance the most based on the conflicted look in his eyes.
“I’m sure it’ll make sense when you’re done asking me the billion questions I’m certain you have.”
“Are you willing to answer?”
“Are you going to tell anyone?”
“What would happen to you if I did?”
He eyes me for a moment longer, then rises, carefully making his way over to the couch, where he sits, a single cushion between us. “Keep eating.”
I take another bite.
“I doubt many people would believe you, for one.”
“I think you’re right.” I take another bite and then another. The food takes an immediate effect, and the tingles begin to wane.
Before I ask my first question, Alex explains, “I believe I’m the only one here. I’ve never come across another vampire during my entire decade here. Not one.”
“You said you have shifters where you come from?”
“Yes. Witches, too. Actually, quite a bit of both. But witches cannot be feeders.”
“Why not?”
“Because they can turn into what I am.” He meets my eyes. I’m mid-drink and pause, perplexed.
“Wait! Vampires aren’t born this way? You’re made?”
“Some. Um.” He leans back, looking tired but still bright and warm. I can feel his warmth even with a bit of distance between us. “I was born a vampire. I have parents. Born vampires are different from those who are turned. Genetically, biologically different as well.”
“How so?”
“You know I’ve never had to explain this to anyone,” he replies swiftly, chuckling a bit. “I don’t really know where to begin.”
“Alex?”
“Yeah?” His voice is hoarse, tinged with the guilt I know is wracking his body as his gaze falls to my wrist, where a deep, black and purple bruise has formed in the shape of his mouth. He closes his eyes and looks away.
“I trust you. I like you. I think you’re a brilliant scientist. I hate to admit it, but after we met, and while trying to reconcile the version of you Abby gave me and the you I know, I read your studies and publications. Your work is incredible. I don’t care that you’re a vampire. You can’t hurt me.”
“I can.”
“You can’t. I won’t let you. I will also keep your secret. It’s none of my business, and you’re right. I don’t know what would happen to you if people found out. Your kind is legendary here, in the Allied Kingdoms. Vampires are supposed to be monsters who hunt at night in cold blood, who can shift into bats and control minds.”
His smile is soft and slightly self-deprecating. “I cannot turn into a bat, and it sounds like you’re the one who can control minds.”
I give him a similar smile. “I can’t control minds, but I can break them. If I want to, of course. I’ve never had the need.” I spoon another bite of yogurt into my mouth. Alex watches me, his eyes dipping from mine to my neck. “I’m likely more dangerous than you.”
He’s still hungry. I can feel the way his eyes graze over my neck. It’s been so long since he’s had blood like this, I’m sure. Blood that’s warm and readily available.
“Why can’t you feed off of me again?” I ask because out of the million questions I have for him, this is the one plaguing my mind the most.
“Because it’s better to have options. There’s less risk of a bond that way.”
“A bond? Like a mate?”
“Not… entirely,” he says, but he doesn’t seem convinced. He takes a breath and leans forward, surrendering to the line of conversation even though he’s obviously uncomfortable with it. “Feeding off someone multiple times messes with a vampire, and I’m sure, a feeder. I am not saying you’re a feeder. I don’t think of you that way.”
“Isn’t being a feeder a good thing?”
“I suppose, but Skye, I really don’t know how to tell you about this.”
“Try.”
I set my yogurt down and turn to him, both of our knees drawn against our chests, our socked toes touching under the single pillow between us. He searches my face, then finally sighs and says, resigned, “Shifters are territorial beasts. They covet what they believe belongs to them, especially in terms of mates. I know shifters. I have shifters in my family, if you can believe it, and one day I’ll explain how that works, but the reason I cannot let you offer yourself to me again is because vampires are worse than shifters. I already like you,” he admits, breathless, and it catches me off guard. “I don’t want to use you. This could easily turn into something neither of us is capable of managing. It’s dangerous, Skye.”
“But I offered–”
“A few more times like this and my body and mind will start thinking of you as something I own. Like a mate, but different. If you think shifters are territorial, you have no idea what a vampire can be like.”
“You’re saying you’d see me as a mate?”
“Pretty much. And since you haven’t found your mate yet, and if that happens, especially here, I’m better when I’m weak, when I haven’t eaten in a while. Now… I’m a serious threat. It’s just in my nature. Vampires sometimes have prolonged relationships with their feeders, and it’s often sexual.”
I feel it in the pit of my stomach–that warm, liquid heat. It’s only a memory now, but it was there when I pressed against him. It was the most intimate moment of my life so far. Alex watches my face, scans my eyes to read the conflicted expression I’m sure is painting starlit shadows under my eyes and across my cheeks.
“You’re feeling things that you shouldn’t,” he says, “and I’ll feel things that I shouldn’t. That’s why we can’t do it again.”
“Maybe just… once more.”
“No.”
I take another drink, frowning. “For research purposes.”
“No, Skye. We can’t.” But he looks at my neck again and takes a deep, deep breath before biting back his tongue. “I need to lie down for a moment. I’m going back to my place.”
“Just lie down here. It’s fine. I have to go check on Abby anyway.” I rise, knowing a dismissal when I hear one. He makes no move to follow, and before I even slide my feet into a pair of slippers, his head is resting back on the couch, eyes closed.
I forgot to ask if vampires sleep.