Skye
An hour later, in the hazy, blue glow of morning, the stars are still on full display like always, but at their dimmest now. Alex follows me across the hallway to my condo. The university is at a standstill, and the tension pours through the thick concrete walls. I’m used to silence, but this is something else entirely.
“Can you water my plants while I’m gone?” I ask with a touch of hesitation, looking up at him through my lashes while he leads the way to the loft where I mentioned I keep a suitcase. I watch his shoulder shrug through his soft gray shirt. His hair is mussed from lying in bed with me for the better part of an hour, and he radiates a new kind of warmth that’s hard to put into words.
Alex is perplexing, but I knew that. Now, however? After being in the throes of passion with him? Having him touch me?
It’s almost like his mind is split into factions all the time–hyper-focused on preservation. Now, he’s not wearing his usual masks. He’s looser, freer, and shockingly gentle.
It’s almost too much for me to process after everything that’s happened.
“Of course, unless you think Abby will be territorial.” He drags the suitcase out from under the futon propped on the far side of the lofted second bedroom/office space I haven’t used since moving in.
Before we came here to pack a few outfits and whatever I’ll need to face my family after killing my great-grandfather, he told me the damning news that he told Toby the truth. He told Toby he is a vampire, and apparently, that came on the heels of both him and Toby witnessing me disappear into the aether. A double whammy of epic proportions.
“I haven’t talked to her,” I answer, turning on my heel to follow him back downstairs like the lost puppy I feel like at the moment. Thankfully, he’s moving with confidence, carrying the heavy suitcase like it weighs little more than a feather, like he knows what drawers my shirts and underwear are in and how many socks I should pack for what I assume will be a week or more away. Like he’s already memorized me and my space.
It’s comforting. I imagine this is what Dad feels like with Mom. Having someone who knows you so well and can anticipate your needs without voicing them? It has to be rare, doesn’t it?
“I can sense your mind moving a thousand miles an hour,” he says over his shoulder with a wry smile. “What are you thinking about, Dr. Abbot?”
He sets the suitcase on the bed. I busy my hands by grabbing random clothing items and tossing them inside while he leans a shoulder on the wall and crosses his arms to watch.
“We had sex.”
“We did.”
“And… now you’re helping me pack… for a trip back home to face my family. And I’m the reason we lost both great-grandparents in one go.”
He tilts his head to the side. “I thought we worked through that.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to any of them, especially my father and great-uncle.”
He rolls his lower lip between his teeth, his gaze grazing the side of my neck. I shiver under the weight of his attention.
“And, your student was murdered, and now the university is locked down pending a thorough investigation–”
“Skye?”
“And we had sex. And Toby knows that you’re a vampire, and I’m–I’m something that disappears into thin air and–”
“Hey!”
“And you want to tell the president we’re together so we don’t get in trouble.”
He kicks off the wall and takes me by the shoulders. “Look at me.”
I can barely bring myself to look him in the eyes, but I try. He exhales deeply when I glance away again, frustrated.
“Does it bother you that I’d like to clear things up with the administration about us?”
“It just doesn’t feel that pressing, given everything else we have on our shoulders.”
“I want this as clear as I can get it. I have not allowed myself the simple pleasure of being with someone in over ten years. Even before that, it was damn near impossible. The thought hasn’t once crossed my mind, but now there’s you.”
I slowly look up at him.
“We’re being very stupid, Skye,” he continues, and I bite back a laugh because he’s so right. Gods. He’s never been more correct about anything, I’m afraid. “But I’ve decided something.”
“Oh, yeah?” My voice trembles just a touch.
“I’d like to try, at least. I’d like to try this with you.”
“And what does that look like for us?”
He lets go of my shoulders and takes the stack of clothing from my hands, arranging it neatly in the suitcase while pondering his answer. “I want you.” He braces his hands on the suitcase to close it, leaning his weight against it. “I want to explore that… often.” He grits his teeth, and I realize he’s never done this before. He might be… more inexperienced in matters of love than I am.
“Alex?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to be my boyfriend or something?” Goddess, how old are we?
“Very much so,” he says, clearing his throat and throwing me a slightly incredulous look, but I laugh until tears well in my eyes, and he takes my face between his hands and kisses me. “I hate the way that sounds, but I don’t know what else to call this. But I have to mention the fact that I am on limited time here in Lunaria. I have another decade until I need to weigh my options.”
“Why? You’re on track to be the dean of your department.” The answer strikes me in the chest. “Oh. Right. You don’t age.”
“Right.” He lets me go and bends to zip my suitcase. “Among other things.”
“You need to repeat how we’re incompatible. I’m more concerned that you’re feeling like this under duress.”
“Duress?”
“We’ve had a terrible few days,” I gut out, more forcefully than I meant it to sound. “I just mean… I’m a mess, and you have the weight of Laney’s death on your shoulders, and possibly another vampire here killing people.”
“All of those things are for me to handle, and I am. How I feel about you has nothing to do with that. That’s a totally separate feeling I’m still working through.”
“And Toby–”
“Toby didn’t have much to say about me being a vampire. He was more concerned about the fact that I was actively trying to talk myself out of letting myself have something that was mine. Something good and natural. You.” He scrubs his hand over his jaw. “Why is it so hard to explain this?”
“Because we’re scientists, and love is the one thing that defies all natural law?”
We stare at each other for a moment, and the tension fizzles, floating away on a phantom breeze. His smile is small and boyish–slightly cocky–like that explanation is exactly what he’s feeling. I know because I feel the same.
I want things to make sense. I want to see it in front of me and in writing. Feelings, on the other hand, go against my nature. His, too, I suppose.
But I already know that’s a bald-faced lie.
He’s a vampire. A creature of feeling and instinct. I’m a mystic. A creature of visions and prophecy. We’ve both spent our entire lives fighting those senses.
“When I come back, we need to have a conversation about the fact that you were in my dreams when I was a girl. I need to explore that more.”
“Why?” he asks, genuinely curious.
“Because dreams aren’t random,” I say with certainty, gripping the suitcase handle. I could use a shower and a cup of coffee, but I already know that the more time I spend here with him, the less confidence I’ll have to face my family and deal with the motions coming next. A gathering. A funeral. The conversations that must be had. Me, who’s never truly felt like I fit in, now likely the family pariah if anyone else gets the notion I was the one who took Isaac’s life.
Alex sits on the edge of my bed, leaning back, casually watching me as I adjust my sweatshirt collar, my fingertips brushing over the spot on my neck he’s particularly obsessed with, and I catch his smile.
“I was more gentle this time,” he says.
“What are you going to do when it comes to blood while I’m gone?”
“I’ve gone weeks without it before, Skye. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I will. You know I will. You could come with me?” The panic in my voice is palpable.
“I can’t. The sun is too bright there.”
“Oh, right.” I look down at my hands and curl my fingers on my free hand into a fist, shoving it into my pocket.
He rises and walks to me, taking me in his arms, making me feel whole and small–making my world smaller for a moment.
He doesn’t ask how I’m able to jump through realms and land wherever I wish. He simply tucks my hair behind my ears and steps back, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and nods.
And I force myself to let go and just do it.
The world swirls with fractals of light before a new room comes into focus. Sunlight pours through large windows, highlighting a sunken living space and wall-to-wall fireplace. I let go of my suitcase, which tips to the side with a pop, the zipper, which was on its last leg anyway, cracking open.
Footsteps sound on the other side of a long, plastered wall, and then Mom is standing in the opening leading to the kitchen and dining room, her hands curled around a coffee mug. I glance down at my watch. It’s not even 7:00 in the morning here.
She takes a breath and motions for me to follow her into the kitchen, but I stop under the archway.
Three more sets of eyes take me in.
Maeve rises from her chair at the dining room table with coffee in hand and arches her brow at me before glancing at Mom with a knowing expression that cuts me to my core. I wait for her to say that they all know I killed Isaac.
Fallon, with her golden-brown hair and the sea-green eyes she shares with her mother and younger sister, Naomi, who is sitting beside her at the table, ends up being the first to speak, and it’s not what I expected.
“Well, you’ve arrived just in time,” she says with a bite in her voice, which elicits a glare from her mother.
I accept a cup of coffee from Mom, who looks weary and uncomfortable as she looks at Fallon.
“Have arrangements been made for the funerals?” I quietly ask, but tension fills the room like poisonous gas just waiting for a spark.
“Not yet, but your grandparents are working on it. We’ll all be traveling to Crescent Falls soon. Your dad is still in Maatua making arrangements for their bodies.”
“Oh,” I reply, glancing around the room at Maeve and her daughters. “Then what–”
“Fallon has been proposed to.” Naomi chuckles, and Fallon rolls her eyes while Maeve looks… murderous.
Mom squeezes my upper arm as I stare at my cousin. Fallon is only twenty-one, barely in her majority power-wise, which is a thing for witches, especially Firestone witches like her.
“And I’ve accepted,” Fallon says flatly, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“You have not, and will not, accept,” Maeve says sharply over Naomi’s chuckles.
“What have I missed?” I ask the room and then settle my gaze on my mom, who sighs, looking like she’s been refereeing the three Firestone women all morning.
I catch Fallon’s gaze, noticing the faint swirls of power behind her eyes. She looks totally, completely resigned. Her mind is made up.