Page 15 of Blood Lovers (American Vampires #1)

Vampire and food.

“Don’t bother running.”

Running? I’m still catching up to what’s actually happening. I’m barely comprehending what I’m seeing, so running… that feels like an action one takes when their brain is actually working.

“Sit down, Syrsee.” The vampire nods his head to the chair near the window.

But I don’t sit down. I force myself to take it all in. Ryet, sick in bed, his face pressed up against the bare hip of the vampire, his body sweaty and flushed, naked under the sheet that only barely covers him. He’s breathing hard and trembling, the whole of him shivering like he’s been out in the wind and the cold for months.

The vampire is naked too and he’s absently playing with a stray lock of Ryet’s dark hair as his ice-blue eyes take me in, then narrow as he barks my name. “Syrsee.” The word is sharp and commanding.

I just stare at Ryet. But I notice that there is a lavender haze around the edges of this room, which means the vampire isn’t really here. I’m in his dreamwalk—or maybe he’s in mine.

“He’s dying. I told you that.”

Finally, I let out a breath and look at the vampire. “You can’t hurt me and neither can he.”

“Dear girl.” He smiles at me, making his ice-blue eyes light up. “Why in the world would I ever want to hurt you?”

“That’s a joke, right? You want to drink me. You want to feed on me. You want to imprison me, and use me, and then, decades from now, I will die just like my grandma. Old, and crazy, and used up.”

“Used up? She was barely used at all. And she might’ve been old, but she was not crazy and she was not stupid. She certainly got the best of me. So if I were you, I’d aspire to be that woman.”

My reality shifts when these words come out of his mouth. I’m talking backwards, and sideways and fucking pear-shaped upside down. I want to ask a thousand questions. I want to know everything about her. My grandma. The woman who saved me from a death cult of witches, and hid me away, and gave me to the Guild to raise up, and educate, and then… then what?

I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Because none of what’s been happening to me the last twenty-eight years is making any sense at all today. I don’t know who I am, or where I came from, or where I belong, or what any of this means.

And I hate that. I also hate the new, sudden realization that the Guild knows more about me than I ever will. And they were never going to tell me.

And maybe Zusi too.

What if Zusi knows everything? What if—

“I’m not your father.”

“What?” I almost choke this word out.

“I can read your mind. That was coming up quick. So I would just like to nip it in the bud. We are not related.”

For several heartbeats I can’t stop the dizzying effect his words have on me. But somehow, I manage to blurt, “Thank God,” under my breath.

“It’s got nothing to do with God. You’re a creature of the dark, Syrsee. You are the blackness. You are the evil everyone warned you about. But you’re also very powerful. Why do you think they kill your kind? Hmm?”

Is this thing asking me questions?

Am I actually having a conversation with a monster?

“They kill you, not because they fear you—though they do fear you—but because what you are is so much more than they are. The Guild was never going to tell you the truth, you know.”

“What do you know about it?”

“I know everything about it. As do they. But they can’t tell you who and what you really are because then…” He shrugs and smiles at the same time. Ryet moans, repositioning himself in his sleep so that his cheek is resting on the vampire’s bare thigh.

This makes the vampire look down and stroke him, his long, pale fingers gently swiping up and down Ryet’s cheek. And I catch a look of… concern, I think. But a moment later, the vampire’s attention is back on me. “He’s dying. I would like to save him. But I cannot. Only you can do that.”

“What?”

“He needs your blood, Syrsee. Quite a bit of it. But you don’t have to give it—”

I laugh. Loud.

“What’s so funny?”

“He needs…” I laugh again. “I’m… I’m supposed to feed him?”

The vampire is not frowning. But the brightness is definitely gone. “That’s your purpose. Part of it, anyway. Do you know what the other part is?”

“My purpose .” The guffaw that bursts forth is both loud and long. “My purpose? I’m food , you asshole!”

“Do you want to know the other part or not?”

“Other part of what ?”

“The Guild kept it secret from you. They’re so afraid of you, Syrsee. They raised you in hopes of hiding the truth from you forever. Do you know why you’re not going back to the library?”

My whole face screws up in confusion. “You knew where I was?”

“Every moment.” He takes in a breath and that brightness is back. “Every. Moment. They have kicked you out, Syrsee. That’s why you’re here.” He pans a hand towards the town. “I own White River.”

“What?”

“They sent you here. To me . To him .” He points a finger down at Ryet.

I think back on the ridiculous ten-day trip. The the buses, the planes, the car. “No. That’s—”

“The truth. Listen, I’ll tell you a little bit now. It’s just bait, though.” He pauses to smooth Ryet’s sweaty hair away from his cheek. “It’s just bait. But I can tell you anything you want after you give him the blood.”

I squint my eyes at the vampire. “What the hell is going on here?”

“I thought I have made that clear. I would like you to feed Ryet and—”

“No. Between you two .”

The vampire Paul smiles so bright, so big, it almost lights up the room. “I love him. And even though he pushes me away, he loves me. We’re lovers, Syrsee. Blood lovers.”

Blood lovers . I almost fall over when the purple words come spilling out of his mouth and float in the air in front of me. I reach for the chair near the window and sink down into it.

“Don’t be jealous.”

“What?” I actually laugh.

“Of me , darling. You and I have two very different roles in his life. I cannot replace you, you cannot replace me, but when we’re all together, it’s going to be magnificent.”

“Gross.”

He chuckles. “You think that now.”

I am not in any danger here. Ryet is so sick, he can’t even wake up. And the vampire isn’t even in this room. He’s dreamwalking in a lavender haze. So I snap at him. “What is the information you have about the Guild? Why am I not going back to the library?”

“It’s very simple. They need you to lead them to me.” He looks very proud of himself.

“If that’s all you’ve got?” I snarl at him in disgust. “Get out of my dream.”

“That’s a juicy tidbit. You didn’t know that before I told you. And you just decided this was my dream.”

“It’s not juicy, it’s logic. Of course they want me to lead them to you. They want to kill you.”

“Kill me?” He looks up at the ceiling and guffaws, then directs that ice-blue gaze right back at me. “You don’t believe that, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“They don’t want to kill me . They want to kill you , darling. They want me to eat you, then sell them some of my blood.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“This is a business , Syrsee. They’re not trying to kill me, they’re trying to haggle with me over the price of my blood. They think if they give you to me, I will sweeten the terms—”

I shake my head and swipe my hand through the air, trying to make him go away. This is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. I cannot believe I let him talk to me this long. “Get out.”

“It’s all true. And I will tell you more. If you feed Ryet for me. Just save him, Syrsee. Save him, and I will share him with you.”

“Get out!”

“We will have fun, darling.” He’s practically singing these words. “So much fun. Like you had last night.”

“Get! Out!”

The room fades away and I realize I’m still outside. Staring at the open door of Ryet’s cottage, looking in at the darkness as cars spray a mist of water off the road as they pass behind me.

Then I see what’s happening inside the room.

Ryet isn’t in bed. He’s face down on the floor. I step inside, look over my shoulder, then shut the door and kneel down next to him. “Ryet?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Ryet?” I touch his sweaty cheek. He’s burning up. “Shit.” What do I do? Call 911? Do they even have a 911 network here? There’s no doctor. There’s no ambulance service.

I have tea. Fucking tea.

Maybe I should go back to the church and get the healer woman? Ask them for help?

Ask the Christian church to help me save… whatever he is?

No. I’m not even making that tea. I still have the bottle of Excedrin. I get up, hook my hands under Ryet’s arms, and drag his limp body across the filthy carpet. He’s pretty heavy and there’s no way I can get him into the bed myself.

Then there is a little voice is in my head. You could feed him , it says. Just a little bit. Just a couple of drops .

It’s my voice, but these cannot be my words.

“Oh, my God.” I sigh, then lean down to Ryet’s ear. “Please. Wake up. Just help me get you on the bed, OK?” He moans and my heart skips. “Ryet? Can you hear me?”

He moans again.

“Can you stand up? You’re on the floor, Ryet. You’re very sick.”

He lifts his head up, looks at me with red eyes. Not bloodshot, but completely red.

He really is a demon.

I stop breathing.

I regret not running, even if I can only get sixty-seven miles away.

His eyebrows pull together, making a long furrow along his sweaty forehead. “Syrsee?”

And when he says my name, I melt. I can’t not melt.

I love—

It’s not even possible!

But it’s true. I love him. And I will do anything to save him. “Yeah. It’s me. I got you some… aspirin.” God, that is lame. “It can help with your fever.”

He smiles, his face brightening. “Thank you.” These words are barely a whisper.

I’m afraid he’s gonna pass out again, so I quickly urge him to get up with me when I stand up. “Come on. Help me get you up.” He struggles—we both struggle—and then he’s on his feet. Two steps. That’s all he has to take. And that’s all he manages before flopping down on the mattress, once again unconscious.

I get up, shove his feet onto the bed, then realize I can’t even give him the aspirin because he’s not awake.

An overwhelming feeling of helplessness fills me up and I have a sudden urge to cry. I want to call Zusi. I want to drive the whole route backwards, stopping off in the lounges, and forget these past twenty-four hours ever happened.

I can’t do this. I can’t.

I turn to the door, pull it open, and I’m just about to step through when Ryet says, “I’ll come by your place later.”

“What?” I turn back and find him looking at me with sleepy, red eyes, his skin pale and sweaty.

But he’s smiling. Kind of. As best as he can, since he’s only half-conscious. “I just need to sleep it off, that’s all. I’ll come by your place for dinner. OK?”

I let out a breath, close the door, and walk over to him. Looking down at his wrecked body.

He’s dying, Syrsee .

And he is.

Even if I wasn’t told that, I can see it.

He’s not getting out of this bed. He’s not.

He’s dying.

And there is only one thing that will save him.

He will make you offers you can’t turn down .

My grandma’s words come back to me now. She was right.

And it’s not even that good of an offer. I mean, I’m not getting anything out of this other than a clear conscience that I didn’t turn my back on a dying man. A man who has been hunting me for my blood.

I have every right to leave him like this. I do.

But I won’t.

I sit down on the bed next to him and pull the aspirin out of my coat pocket. “Can you take these?”

He nods. Kind of.

“Open your mouth.”

He does and I drop two tablets on his tongue. He crunches down, making me wince at the imagined bitterness, then swallows. “Thank you.”

His eyes are ready to close again, so I hurriedly say, “Ryet?” to keep him awake.

“Hmm?”

“I met your… friend.” His eyes are closed now. “Ryet? Can you hear me?”

He’s already asleep.

I wanted this last conversation because if he asked me—if he was able to ask me for what he needs—then I wouldn’t have to take responsibility for this choice. I could blame it on him.

And now I can’t.

If I feed him, this is my decision.

I get up, walk over to the little kitchenette, open the one drawer, find a knife, turn the gas stove on, hold the blade in the flame, and watch the metal turn bright orange.

Then I walk back over to Ryet, cut a one-inch gash across the fleshy part of my right palm near my thumb, and let the blood flow. Then I hold it over the small opening between his lips and let it trickle in.

He doesn’t move. Not for almost a minute. Then he swallows the pool of blood in his mouth and lifts his head up with closed eyes, blindly searching for the source.

I lower my hand down to his mouth and watch as lips seal around my cut and he sucks on me. After only a few moments, he’s strong enough to reach up and grab my hand with both of his, holding it possessively, like he’s afraid I will pull the blood away.

I expect him to get stronger. To sit up, to feel better. And he looks better.

But his eyes don’t open. In fact, after that one act of reaching, he seems spent. And then he turns his face to the side and just… drifts off.

I sit there on his bed watching the color return, little by little, to his pallid skin. The sweat dries and no new beads of sickness appear on his brow. And when I place the back of my hand against his cheek, he’s cooler. Not normal, like a human, but much cooler than he was.

It’s helping. My blood was his cure.

I blink, noticing the lavender haze around the corners of the room, and for a moment I think—I hope —that maybe this whole thing is a dream.

Maybe I’m still in the library back at the Guild.

Maybe Grandma didn’t die.

Maybe everything is the same and I’m going to wake up and know for sure that this was nothing but a dreamwalk.

But then there he is. Paul. Sitting in the chair where I was earlier. Me on the bed, next to Ryet.

We have switched places.

He smiles as he begins to clap. A slow, mocking, deliberate clap.

Then he is gone and the lavender haze recedes, and I’m too spent and tired to care what happens next.

I just lie down and within moments, I’m asleep too.

Zusi haunts my dreams , but in her typical, fun, Zusi way and not some purple-haze stalking way.

It’s not a walking dream. Just random memories, I think. Our formative years play in my head as I sleep, vaguely still aware that I’m in bed with a vampire.

“He’s cute,” Zusi is saying. We’re in our dorm, which is in the top-floor attic of the Merchant Building on the west side of campus. This is where they put me once I was old enough to leave the Community Building with the other kids our age. Zusi is my only roommate. And I love her for this. Because she should be down on the seventh floor with the rest of her class, and she isn’t. She’s up here, with me.

She’s got her phone out and she’s pointing to someone on the screen with a perfectly manicured and polished fingernail. “Are you going to kiss him?” Her tone is teasing and fun.

This is when I realize I’m not the one she’s talking to. Not grownup me, anyway. I am Syrsee, age… I dunno. Fourteen, I guess. Other me is sprawled out across my bed looking up at the ceiling with a stupid smile on my face. We’re still wearing our uniforms, so it’s probably break time.

Zusi is sitting in one of the desk chairs, legs crossed primly, her uniform perfect and crisp. My own pleated maroon skirt is flared around my bare thighs and my white blouse is untucked and wrinkled. I don’t have my scuffed Mary Jane shoes on, but I am wearing the maroon cable-knit knee socks with gold tassels. My left big toe is sticking out of a hole that has been darned several times already.

“I don’t know.” I sigh these words out. Then I turn over, still smiling stupidly, and look at her. “He’s two years older than us.”

“Yeah… but…” She sucks in air as her eyes travel up and down the length of my lean, long body. “He’d definitely go for you.”

“Because I have tits.”

Zusi giggles. She does not have tits. I was the first to fill out, so to speak. And it happened early. I was wearing a C-cup by the time I hit sixth year.

Younger me giggles too, then hides her face with her hands. “No. I’m not even going to talk to him.”

“Why not? I heard he likes you.”

Younger me’s hands come off my face instantly. “You did not.”

“I swear.”

Other me is still wearing a dubious look. And this is when real me remembers this day and I get sad all of a sudden. I was so in love with a boy called Myer. He was, like, the boy in the upper class every girl wanted to date.

He smiled at me that day. I was just walking through the library for my free period, minding my own business. He and his group of friends were at a table near the back. This was their usual place. They had free period the same time as me.

I didn’t usually spend time in the back. The officer in charge of me that year had assigned me a private space for free period so I spent my time on a little second-floor balcony overlooking the main desk in the lobby.

It was a nice space. Really nice space, actually. But it was set apart from everyone.

Anyway, on this day I was just going to get a drink from the fountain and this took me past Myer and his crew.

It wasn’t even planned. Not the way the other girls did it. I think every girl in our class had made that same walk to the drinking fountain, hoping to get a smile out of Myer. And they knew this, so they were smirking at me. And I wasn’t even doing it to make Myer look. I was just… thirsty. And didn’t even think about how he would take it.

They didn’t say anything rude. No one really talked to me, except for Zusi. But I could hear them quietly laughing.

I wasn’t paying any attention to them, just focused on walking. But then my eye caught his and I did a double-take. One of those Holy shit, is he looking at me? kind of looks.

Then he smiled and I quickly looked away and kept going to the drinking fountain. But my heart was racing inside my chest.

He was cute. Very handsome. And rich. He came from a good family. All his friends did. None of them had any reason to even acknowledge I existed, let alone smile at me.

No one was mean to me. No one bullied me. They simply ignored me.

Zusi came from a lower-class family and I’m pretty sure some—or maybe all—of her tuition was paid for because she was assigned the role of my best friend.

But we got along great. Like two peas in a pod.

“So what do you think it means?” Younger me is sitting up a little in bed now, hand propping up her chin. “Do you think he likes me?”

“Of course he likes you. Who wouldn’t like you?”

Both of me smile when she says this. Because even though she knew I wasn’t one of them and didn’t belong in the Guild school, she never accepted it.

That’s why it took me so long to understand.

That’s why, when Myer slipped a note into my hand as I was walking out of the library a couple days later, asking me to meet him that evening at at the dock, I went.

We did kiss. And it was nice for about five minutes. But then his hands were all over me.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t really object, I was just surprised. And this was my first experience with a boy. I was stupidly thinking we’d go somewhere and have a coffee or something.

He wanted to have sex and we would’ve too. I wasn’t going to say no. Not because I was particularly ready for this moment, more because I just didn’t know how to get out of it once his hand was between my legs.

But we got caught. An officer came out of nowhere, yelling for Myer to get away from me.

At the time, it almost felt like a rescue. But looking back now, I don’t think the officer was saving me .

I think he was saving Myer .

“How did you not notice?”

I look to my left and there’s Paul. We’re shoulder to shoulder, staring into each other’s eyes as the purple haze slithers up the walls of the dorm room.

“Notice what?”

“That you were ostracized.” He almost laughs these words out.

I huff. “Ostracized? That’s a joke. I wasn’t ostracized. I just wasn’t one of them. I couldn’t take a lot of their classes. And I think most of them went out of their way to make sure I didn’t feel ostracized.”

“Or perhaps you went out of your way to remain ignorant.” He’s not laughing now. He’s completely serious.

“So? What’s your point?”

He turns his body to face me, then reaches up and places a hand on my cheek, touching me tenderly as I stare into those ice-blue eyes of his. “My point is, they’re not what you think, Syrsee.”

“And let me guess, you’re not what I think, either.”

“Oh, I’m exactly what you think. I’m not lying to you. And if you think I come to you in this beautiful body because I want to trick you, you’re wrong. You know what I really look like. I came to you like that first, so you’d know who I was. And there would be no pretenses between us for what comes next.”

I swallow hard, feeling a lot like the little fourteen-year-old girl with Myer’s hand between her legs. Ready to agree to something just because it’s exciting, and I’m turned on, and I haven’t learned how to say no yet.

“I came to Ryet that way as well. He knows. He’s always known. And he agreed, Syrsee.”

“So you’ll think I’ll agree too?”

“You fed him, didn’t you?”

I just… sigh.

“You agreed to that part, at least. But there’s much more coming your way.”

“Promises.”

“What?”

“My grandma.” I look away from him, staring at younger me as she and younger Zusi talk boys. “She warned me about you and your promises. She said you were going to promise me something I want very badly and that the man I gave my heart to would be my downfall.”

“And you think that’s Ryet, do you?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I saved him.” I look back over at Paul and meet his gaze with steady eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I’m sticking around.”

“So leave.”

“You’ll just follow me.”

“Of course I will. You’re mine.”

“So what’s the point? I like Ryet.”

Paul smiles. “He likes you too, I can tell. So stay.”

“If I stay, I wouldn’t be agreeing to anything.”

“Darling, this isn’t a trap. It’s not even an offer. Yet. But it will be. And you will have a choice. I do not need to trap souls.”

I scoff at him. “Wow. Did you just admit to wanting my soul?”

“Your soul is already mine, Syrsee. You’re a Black witch. You are damned. You are evil. You are going to Hell. That is a fact.” His face is stern as he says these words, but then it softens a little. “But it doesn’t have to stay that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll know soon. But for now, just…” He places his hand on my cheek again. “Enjoy my Ryet. He’s…” There’s a pause here, and Paul looks away for a moment, then meets my eyes to complete that thought. “He’s quite loyal. And attractive, of course. And honest, Syrsee. He’s not trapping you, either. I told him who you were.”

“What? When?”

“In the dream. But he’s not going to remember. That’s my gift to you right now. Some time. Just a little bit of time.”

“So I can tell him myself.”

“It would be better if it came from you. And once you tell him who you are, he’s not going to leave you.”

Leave me? Did I think he was going to leave me if he knew the truth?

Honestly, that thought never entered my mind. Not until those words came out of Paul’s mouth. But leave me? Will he?

“He won’t.” Paul is looking at me like he’s reading my mind. Which he is, I guess. That’s what he told me anyway.

“How do you know?”

“Because you remind him of something.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“His family.”

My brow furrows. “What family ?”

“His wife, Syrsee. His children.”

“He’s married?”

“No. I killed them. Decades back.”

A sick, sick feeling creeps into my stomach. “You…”

“Killed them. I burned them alive in a church. He was never going to leave them for me. So I had to take them away.”

“And he…”

“No. He knows, but he forgot. And he won’t let himself remember. I’ve told him several dozen times, actually. It’s like he doesn’t hear my words. Like he’s under some kind of spell.” Paul looks at me funny. His eyes narrow down into slits and I get an uncomfortable feeling of scrutiny.

“What? Why are you looking at me that way?”

“Your grandmother put a spell on him, didn’t she?”

I huff out air. “Well, if she did, I wouldn’t know. I didn’t grow up with her, as you can see.” I wave my hand at the dorm room.

“I think she did. I think she was there that night when I made him. I think she got to him before I did.”

“OK.”

“And I think you can undo what she did.”

“Is that why you want me? So I can undo some stupid spell?”

He turns his hand around so the back of his fingers can slowly slide down my cheek. Then he leans in and I realize I’m waiting for it. So when his lips touch mine, I’m not surprised and I don’t pull away.

He whispers, “I want you because you belong to me.”

Then he pulls back and my lips are tingling from his soft kiss and my mind is spinning from his careful words.

“Why would you want him to know that?”

“That I killed them?”

I nod.

“Because it’s coming between us. And his memory of them is coming back. I can’t take those memories away again until he actually has them. So he’s going to have a hard time soon, Syrsee. He’s going to see his wife’s face. He’s going to miss her that same way he did the night of their funerals. He’s going to weep for his children.”

“I don’t understand what you’re doing. You want him to know that you killed them, but you don’t want him to remember them?”

“That’s exactly right. He needs to know all the truth about me. That’s the only way this works.”

All these words are spinning around in my head, trying to fit together in some coherent way. But it’s very contradictory. He hides his lies behind truth, that much I get.

But why?

“You’re going to wake up now, Syrsee. And he’s going to wake up as well. He won’t remember what I told him about you. I promise you that. You can have this time to decide. He’s going to be better, but not well. He will need more blood.”

“How much more?”

“You will be feeding him for a long time, my girl. Little sips here and there, like last night, are fine. If you don’t mind feeding him all day long. But if you just let him drink from your throat, he will be able to go a day or two without needing more.”

So that’s it.

I’m a feeder. I’m not a prisoner somewhere, no one is keeping me in a cage, and I’m not even afraid, but I am a feeder.

It’s just… I’m feeding a man I happen to like.

“Wow.” I look up at Paul, who is smiling down at me with a tender look in his eyes. “That’s some trick you did there.”

“Not a trick. You did this, not me.”

And he’s right. I did.

“Now, when he wakes up, you need to explain this to him.”

“You just said I have time!”

“You do. But not much. He needs to feed and this is urgent. So you need to make him drink. He’s going to protest. He might even walk out.” My heart skips when he says this. “But he will come back. And you can always find him in the dreams. All you have to do is look.”

I just… stare at the dorm room for a long moment. Then I say, “What if I don’t feed him? He’ll die?”

“He will. But don’t worry. You will feed him.”

Paul disappears, the dorm room fades, and I slowly open my eyes and find myself looking up at Ryet’s cottage ceiling.

I turn my head and find that the other side of the bed is empty. Then I sit up, scared, and still too confused to process the conversation in my dream—then realize he’s in the shower.

The relief washes over me.

Then, almost as fast, it recedes and the questions start pouring in.

Now what?

Do I stay and let him drink my blood?

Do I leave while he’s in the shower? Just get in my truck, drive my sixty-seven miles, and try to forget everything that just happened?

Call Zusi and Tristin and ask for help?

I don’t know. The only thing I do know is that I want to get the fuck out of this cottage. I don’t want to be here anymore.

I get out of bed—still fully dressed, boots on—and walk over to the door. I’m just reaching for the doorknob when the bathroom door opens and when I turn, Ryet emerges, naked to the waist, wearing jeans and with boots on his feet, still kinda dripping, and towel-drying his hair so he doesn’t see me right away.

I step away from the door. “Hey. You’re feeling better, huh?”

He lowers the towel and grins. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just really needed a shower.”

“I need one too.” I point at his bathroom. “And that’s a really clean, new bathroom, but I’m not showering in there.” I say all this like we’re just a fun couple who banters. And he’s not a vampire and I’m not his food.

Of course, he doesn’t know that. But he will soon.

“So. Shower at your place, then breakfast?”

God, why does he have to be so beautiful? And he’s even more beautiful this morning than he was that first night. It’s like he’s… glowing.

Yeah, that’s probably because he drank your blood a few hours ago, Syrsee.

“Do you want to come with me?” Why did I just say that? I wasn’t even thinking those words.

“You bet. Just let me grab a shirt.” He throws the towel in the bathroom, finger-combs his hair with one sweep back—making him look even more unnaturally sexy than he already is—and then pulls a t-shirt out of a drawer and tugs it over his head. “All right. I’m good. Where’s my coat?” He looks around, spies it hanging on the back of the chair, then shrugs it on.

He pats his pockets for his keys as I sling my purse over my shoulder and we leave.

Together.

Vampire and food.