Alex
Vampires generally don’t need sleep.
By sleep, I mean the deep, vulnerable kind that allows dreams to fade into focus and a body to go slack. Vamp kids, sure. They sleep all the time, but once our biological clock starts to slow, once necessary things like sleep make less of a difference in our overall performance, we generally don’t do it.
A light rest? Sure. I’ve needed one of those for a long, long time, which is why, when I open my eyes after an hour on Skye’s couch to find her sitting on the coffee table in front of me, our knees touching, her eyes open wide and full of so much excitement she’s trembling, I wish on whatever gods are listening that I could, in fact, just shut my eyes and let the entire world fade to black, even just for a few more hours.
She’s gripping a notebook for dear life, her eyes holding on mine expectantly.
“What time is it?” I ask. Deciding not to move an inch and pretending to be in some kind of blood coma might work in my favor when it comes to the mountain of questions I know she’s compiled in the notebook.
“I have no idea. But–”
“How long have you been here staring at me while I slept?”
“Half an hour.” She blinks for what might be the first time in that long.
My chest rises and falls. I close my eyes in surrender, feeling warmer and more whole than I have in years… but hungry. So fucking hungry. Her scent is everywhere–strongest here, where I can still taste her on my tongue. Her proximity sends warning sirens through my skull, but I already know that telling her this, having to explain in depth the ins and outs of what I am, is only going to make it worse for me.
“I made a list,” she begins, flipping open the notebook and clicking a pen. I keep my eyes closed, groaning, and she flips page after page.
“Would it be easier to just kill me and flay me open in a lab? I’m sure we can rent a room in the psych department quite easily, seeing as they never use their labs.” I open my eyes to slits. She blinks at me and then flips back a few pages and presses her pen to a page.
“Why? Are we different on the inside?”
“Oh, my gods.”
“What? I just want to know.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a vampire, Alex. You’re one of a kind.”
Oh, she has no idea. “There are thousands of vampires. Hundreds of thousands, I’m sure, where I’m from. I’m the only one here, and that’s a good thing.”
“Can you tell me why?”
“Why what?” I finally sit up and lean forward until there are only inches between our noses. She doesn't balk, doesn’t lean away, bristle, or lock up in fear. She just stares so intently, I feel like she’s trying to look inside me for the answers to her questions.
Maybe she already is.
“I want to go first,” I say in a near whisper. Beyond the frosted glass windows to our left, the aurora is dancing across the sky, painting her living room in a deep green haze. “Are you looking into my head right now?”
“No, you’d feel it.”
“How do I know you’re not lying–AH!” I rear back the second her fingertips graze my forehead, sending a charge of what I can only describe as white-hot electricity shooting through the ridges of my gray matter.
“That’s what it feels like, and honestly, I can’t read your thoughts or even see your memories. I tried.”
“What? You did?”
She nods, grinning like this is the most exciting thing she’s ever experienced. “When I tied you up earlier, remember? It’s fascinating, really. Your mind is full of color instead of images. It’s like every memory, every thought, is wrapped in… gift paper. Emotion. Color. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“How many heads have you looked into, Skye?”
“Not many. Not on purpose, at least. But–”
“You know what?” I rise, and she follows immediately, refusing to let me pass. “We’re not doing this. I’m a vampire. That’s already been established.” I motion toward her notebook, clutched in her hands like a weapon. “I can answer every question in that little notebook of yours, but every answer will only lead to a new question, and I can’t do this right now.”
“Because you want to bite me again?”
I grit my teeth. If I breathe in, I’ll smell her, damn near taste her again, and it’s too much. She’s too much.
She tilts her head to the side, leaving one side of her beautiful, smooth neck exposed. Fuck. Fuck her! Fuck me for giving in, for running back here when I saw her blood sample lit up under the lights of a finely tuned microscope. I knew I was fading. I should have left my lab and gone straight to Aurorium, bought the bloodiest steak I could find at their terrible grocery store, and sucked it dry in the bathroom in the subway terminal before confronting her about what I found that swirls inside of her like glitter–like the stars themselves drift in her veins.
“Can I ask you just one thing?” She edges a half step closer. It’s as far as she can go. We’re already touching, but now we’re flush together, her notebook wedged between us.
“No.”
“Why are you even here? What’s the reason for putting yourself through this for so long?”
“That’s two questions.”
“I just don’t understand. Lunaria? I get that. It’s dark here practically all the time, especially this time of year. But you rely on blood samples to survive, and you must be so lonely. You’re the only one like you. Why stay?”
“That’s three.”
“And if you’re immortal, which, by all accounts–”
“Skye,” I growl in warning.
“You can’t stay here forever. You don’t age, right?” She steps away to open her notebook, pen at the ready. “Or do you? Slowly? Because you look like you’re in your thirties, and if that’s the case, I mean, what are your strengths? What magic do you have that keeps you like this? What can you do?”
I grab her by the shoulders and twist until she’s facing the couch, her back flush against my abdomen. I press a hand flat over her stomach, my other hand braced around her throat, fingers curled.
It happens in a single second–far too quick for her to react. “That’s my strength,” I rasp against the outer shell of her ear. She takes a shallow breath, her chest rattling. “I can kill you before you even know what’s happening. I am quicker than a shifter could ever dream of being. I am silent on my feet, Skye. You might be able to subdue me with a single touch, but you’d have to catch me first, and you can’t.”
She drops her notebook. Her pulse under my fingers thrums, skyrocketing. The scent of her blood changes, shifting from the sharp, metallic hint of fear to something deeper, headier. I inhale, my mouth pressed against her hair. “I am a walking promise of death, and I’m one of the good ones. I can control myself and my natural urges. But you–just hearing your voice? I’m starving. I’ve been starving since I met you.”
She lets go of a breathy sigh. I tighten my fingers around her throat. She doesn’t stop me when I dip my head to press my lips against the side of her neck. She turns away, giving me fuller access, and it feels like someone has reached into my chest and fisted my heart.
We’re on dangerous ground. She knows it. I’ve explained it thoroughly. She’s seen the bloodlust in my eyes and how hard I’ve worked to control it–what I’ve had to do to keep this a secret.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I assure her, my mouth against her skin, my voice low and smooth. “But I could. You need to understand that. I need you to listen closely to what I have to say.” My fangs lengthen against my will. “I am dangerous. It doesn’t matter if you can stop me. It doesn’t matter that you’re powerful in your own right and have the particle I’ve spent a decade searching for in your blood–like you’re made of it. I am still a vampire. My biological objectives are to drain and kill.”
“I understand,” she whispers, but her voice hitches, and not with fear. “But I want–I want to do it again.”
“Why?” My voice rasps like a blade is being pressed against my vocal cords.
“I just–I just want to. I want to know what it feels like if you… bite me on the neck.”
“Everything you’re feeling right now–”
“I don’t care about that,” she rushes out. “You’re starving. The first time wasn’t enough. I can feel it, Alex, for Goddess’ sake. Your hands are freezing!”
I move to step away from her, letting go of her neck, but she grabs my wrist, keeping my hand flexed against her stomach, the thin sweater the only thing separating my touch from her skin.
“Take more,” she whispers, her eyes closed and lips slightly parted. She’s standing perfectly still, and her heart rate slows, returning to its normal, rhythmic thrum. “I’m offering it to you willingly. I’ll be fine. You can’t hurt me.”
“I can. I’ve just explained that to you. I can hurt you. I can kill you.”
“But you won’t because you don’t want to. I’m offering, Alex. Please, just–I need to know–”
In a split second, I have her back on the couch, straddling my lap. She huffs in surprise but settles, thigh muscles rigid, her arms wrapped around my neck and those big, violet eyes locked on mine.
I dip my head to her neck, and she arches back, giving me better, fuller access, and hums a moan that vibrates over my tongue when I lick a line to the perfect spot, and bite.
She gasps, rocking forward, and leans into my body, writhing as I take pull after pull. I tighten my grip, my hands falling to her waist, and tug her as close as possible until our hips are flush.
“Oh, my Goddess,” she moans, sighing as she runs her fingers up the back of my head and into my hair. It’s euphoric–her touch, her taste, the way she moves against me.
I bite harder, and she hisses, grinding, forcing me to still against the urge to meet her movement by movement. It’s too much for her. This can’t continue. It can’t happen again, but for now? It feels unreal.
“Fuck, Skye,” I grunt, releasing my bite. I lick the wound I left, but the bruise forming won’t fade for several days. I need to be more careful next time, softer, more gentle. No, there’s no need because this–won’t happen again.
She shivers, rolling her neck to look down at me, the tips of our noses touching. “I don’t understand why it feels this good. I still don’t get it.”
“Is that what’s bothering you?” I ease back against the cushions, satiated and relaxed in a way I haven’t been in years. She remains seated on my lap, her hair falling around her face. She’s flushed pink, and her eyes are sharper and darker than I’ve ever seen them, a far cry from when they’d glowed with what I can only describe as madness only a day before. It makes her look mortal. Innocent.
Like a feeder.
My guilt ties into knots I’ll never be able to unwind.
“What is this?” she whispers, more to herself than to me, and reaches up to palm the bruise on her neck.
“Just a bruise.”
“No, this.” She presses a hand to my chest. “Why do you bond with people you feed from?”
“Well, you’re my first, so I can’t really say for sure.”
“You’ve never done this before?” Her brows knit with confusion.
“I’ve never bitten anyone to feed, no. There’s another reason vampires bite, and why we have fangs.”
She searches my eyes. I wait for it to click, and it does.
“You killed someone.”
“I did, yes.”
“Is that why you’re here? So far from home?”
Memories I’ve spent the last ten years letting fade trickle back into existence, but she remains, taking up the entire field of my vision. I’d expect an omission like that to ruin whatever trust we’ve built, but she continues to stare and waits for my answer.
“I am home here,” I answer quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I can show you. Let’s go to my lab.”