Page 21 of Blood Lovers (American Vampires #1)

Just words.

I am dreaming about owning a boat, haggling with some boat dealer with Syrsee hanging off my arm, rolling her eyes at the negotiation. But then the dream switches and we’re in a house. Something small and unassuming with paned windows that look out onto a green lawn.

Syrsee is cooking something on the stove and there are two kids sitting at a table eating cereal, swinging their feet as they talk with their mouths full.

“What the fuck?”

Syrsee turns when I say this and she’s wearing an apron, smiling at me, not looking much like herself. And she’s pregnant.

“What. The fuck?”

Then I am wide awake. My eyes are open, my heart beating fast, my body cool and almost chilled. In fact, I’m nearly freezing. The only warm part of me is where Syrsee’s body is touching mine.

She turns over, sprawling out on her side of the bed, and then all of me is cold.

I get out of bed, hit the bathroom, and then come back out and check the time on the bedside table clock. Four-seventeen.

“Syrsee?” I don’t say it loud, I just want to know how sleepy she is. Apparently very, because she doesn’t make a sound or move another inch.

Good. I want her to sleep. And I’m gonna hit the gym. This is the first morning in months where I didn’t wake up sweaty and it feels amazing.

I go searching for my clothes, absently trying to piece together what we did last night. Sex, obviously. But I don’t seem to be able to conjure up the details. When I reach the living room, I stop short and stare at it, confused.

Am I in the right place? Because last night when we got in, I could’ve sworn those brown leather couches were actually cream.

I shake my head and just go pick up my clothes, pull my pants and shirt on, then find my boots across the room.

My jacket is where I left it, so I shrug it on, take one last look at the bedroom, listening for noise, then leave. Quietly closing the door behind me.

The sun isn’t up yet so the entire resort is aglow with amber lights. I love walking this place in the dark. I love the steam that wafts up from the little streams, and the way the wooden walking bridges sound under my boots when I cross them, and the way the trees creak from the snow load. And every once in a while, if I’m in the right place at the right time, there’s the howling of wolves across the valley when they take down a kill.

That doesn’t happen this morning, but the rest of it is all the same.

The gym is a standalone building near the main hot springs pool. It’s made entirely of glass, lit up because there are already several people inside. A couple of guys lifting together, a woman on the elliptical, and a few joggers on the track that is really a three-story ramp that winds its way around the inside of the building from top to bottom in a never-ending wave.

That’s where I’m heading when I come out of the locker room dressed in a pair of sweats with the North Star logo on them and my old running shoes that have been here since the place was built. They’re total shit, but I don’t care. I love running and the urge to do it today is so strong, I’d run barefoot if there was no one here to see me.

I run until I’m warm, but I don’t break a sweat.

This is how it used to be. Back when I was young. The heat almost never touched me and it feels so good. It reminds me of how it must’ve felt to be human.

Then my mind drifts to the dream I had. Syrsee in an apron. I chuckle as I continue running. Hey, maybe this is not unusual for her. For all I know she’s got a whole collection of aprons and is a top-notch chef. But the apron wasn’t the only thing about that dream that bothers me.

She was pregnant.

And even though it was a dream—and it wasn’t purple or hazy, so I know it really was just a fucking dream—I find myself feeling jealous of some unknown someone. Because that child in her belly is not mine. None of those children were mine. I am sterile. This is what it means to be a scion. I am something in between. Something impure. Something never meant to procreate.

I simply exist for the pleasure of Paul.

I finish the last lap on the track and head back to the locker room. There are more people here now, maybe two dozen, and the locker room is packed. I enter the private shower suite that only Paul and I can use and kick off my shoes and step out of my sweats as I walk.

There’s a really nice shower in here. And even though I’m kinda planning a sexy shower with Syrsee, the thought of going outside in that freezing January weather when I’m already in a cold state isn’t appealing.

I want heat.

I turn the hot water on and step back from the steam just as my phone buzzes on a nearby shelf. I walk over, study the screen, roll my eyes, and accept his call. “What?”

“How are you feeling?”

“ What ?” I snap at Paul. He just annoys me. I can’t help it.

“How. Are you. Feeling .”

“Fine. Why?”

“Why?” He’s chuckling.

“What do you want?”

“Did you sleep well?”

“What the fuck is this?”

“Why are these simple questions so hard for you this morning?”

“Why are you calling me so early?”

“Are you at the gym?”

“How did you know?”

“I know everything, Ryet. We’ve been over this.”

“Is there anything else? Because I’ve got a shower going.”

He hangs up on me. I just stare at the phone as the call blanks out, shaking my head and scoffing. What the fuck? Why do I have to get stuck with the only vampire on the planet who’s needy ?

I walk back over to the shower, slip past the glass partition, and walk under the water, closing my eyes and letting out a long breath as the steam wraps around me like a blanket. When I open them, everything is lavender and Paul is sitting on the marble bench on the far end of the shower, naked.

I don’t say anything. I just watch him watch me. I could yell at him for this. I could tell him to leave. I could threaten him. But why bother?

He’s gonna do what he’s gonna do.

Finally, after so many seconds pass the silence starts to become awkward, he says what’s on his mind. “You like this woman.”

It’s not a question. “Her name is Syrsee.”

“Lovely. But you didn’t answer the question.”

“I like her.”

“How did you meet?”

I sigh, unsure if I should have this conversation with him or not. But there’s something different about him right now. He’s all naked, and beautiful, and somber. Almost… vulnerable. Which is laughable. And a lie, if that’s what he’s projecting.

He is dangerous. Maybe even the most dangerous creature on this planet. Though, admittedly, my experience with vampires numbers two and a half. There’s Paul, Lucia, and Josep, but Josep is the half because I’ve never actually interacted with him. So it’s possible that the vampires on the other side of the world are more than what Paul is. And if that’s the case, I don’t ever want to meet them.

But I somehow doubt it. I think they are afraid of Paul and that’s why he was banished here. So far away they don’t have to think about him anymore.

“I found her in a parking lot. Crying.”

“What was she crying about?”

“She was hungry and the diner was closed.”

“So you saved her.” He smiles at me.

I shrug one shoulder, still enjoying the hot water and steam, even if Paul did crash in on it. “I took her back to the cabin—”

Paul winces. “Oh, that place.”

“I know.” And now I’m smiling. “She refused to take her boots off.” Now I’m laughing. “She refused to take her clothes off. She said, ‘I’m having trouble reconciling my naked body in this room.’”

“She didn’t.” Paul is amused.

“She did. And, well…” I shrug again. “I like her. So you’re probably gonna kill her or something, right?”

“Why would I do that?”

“You’re kind of a jealous asshole.”

He smiles and doesn’t deny it. “I’d like to meet her.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s mine. And I don’t want to share.”

“Who says I want to share?”

I just shoot him a look.

“Fine. I was entertaining the thought. But why not share? We have such fun that way, Ryet.”

“We really don’t.”

“Why do you lie like that? You know you love me. Maybe even more than I love you. Why do you refuse to accept that we are special together?”

“Because… you wiped my memory and turned me into your bitch?”

“You asked me to do both of those things, Ryet.”

I take a breath, then turn away and put my head under the hot water, letting it slide down the front of my body like one of the little waterfalls outside.

He comes up behind me, pushing his naked body into mine. Then he turns me toward the tiled wall, urging me to take a step.

I do. I don’t fight him. It’s stupid and pointless. He gets his way every time. All he has to do is bite that lip of his and I’m out of control.

“Ryet.” He whispers my name right into my ear. “Do you hate me?”

“Do I hate you?” Even if he wasn’t pressing me into the wall face first, I still wouldn’t look at him right now. Because the truth is, I do. I absolutely do hate him. And even though I have told him that hundreds of times, this time is different. Because all those other times he dismissed it, and this time, I can tell, he won’t.

And I’m not going to say that to him. Not because it will piss him off and he might hurt me, but because despite my hate, I don’t want to hurt him.

And that’s all it would take for me to hurt him.

Just words.

He is vulnerable. But only with me.

Why?

That’s what I say. “Why, Paul? Why the fuck do you love me so much?” It’s same question I asked him—what? Yesterday? “Why? Just tell me why without using the word ‘pretty.’”

He rests his head on my shoulder, his fingertips stroking up and down my stomach, and I’m not gonna lie, he turns me on like fucking crazy. And it’s not just his blood, either. It’s just… him. “When I first took notice of you, it was two towns over.”

My brow furrows. “What?”

“In a bar. Well, outside of a bar. You were fighting.”

“When?”

“Before… well, before .”

My mind is spinning. He’s never told me anything about how he chose me. And just as I think these words, he leans in and kisses me on the neck. His fangs scraping my skin. Opening it up. And then he’s licking the blood off me.

It’s the purple. So none of this is real. That’s partly why I don’t stop him. But it also feels good. I can fight him off over the phone, or even in person if he’s not bleeding and he doesn’t touch me. But this? No. I have no interest in stopping him now.

Even if it wasn’t a dreamwalk, if he got this close to me in person, I’d be all over him like a fucking addict.

“Do you want to hear more?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” And then I turn to face him. It’s a mistake. I know it’s a mistake before I do it. But I know Paul. If he gives something, he wants something in return.

If he tells me about my past, I will give myself to him. Here, in the dream, at least.

And he reads all this in my face and smiles as he strokes my rough cheek with the back of his hand. “You won that fight.”

“Why was I fighting?”

Paul leans in and touches his lips to mine. It’s not a kiss. It’s just a touch. An incredibly erotic tease because I can smell blood on him. Like he bit the inside of his tongue or cheek so he can hide the fact that he’s using his blood to control me.

I am the one who kisses him. That’s why he did this. He wants me to come to him.

It’s a long, slow kiss. Our heads turning in just the right way so that we fit together. His chest pushed into mine. Our hips sliding together in the slickness of the steam and the water.

Up until now my hands have been at my sides. But I pull out of the kiss and touch him now. One hand on his hip, the other slipping between us to take hold of him. I watch his expression as this happens and his eyes immediately start to close with lust.

I kiss him again. And I whisper the words, “Tell me more,” into his mouth. “Tell me all of it.”

“Not all of it. But I will tell you more.” He pulls away from me and turns me around so I’m facing the wall again. Then he slips his hands around my hips, makes two fists around my cock, and leans his chest into my back. “I nearly came, watching you. The look on your face. The determination. The anger. And, of course, the blood. All over your knuckles, and your t-shirt, and your mouth. I wanted to kiss you right then and there. And do you know that every time I do kiss you, I think of that night?”

I let out a long breath. “Why was I fighting?”

“There was some kind of insult, I think. I didn’t catch the whole beginning. Just pieced together context by listening to the conversation. And back in those days this is how men settled things. They beat each other up and the winner was the winner. It was a much simpler time. I liked it.”

I am spinning. Dizzy. And the hot water has changed my temperature. I’m no longer cold. Not at all cold. Even Paul’s body, leaning into mine, feels cool to the touch compared to me.

“Any more questions?”

I have a lot of question about that night. But I’m suspicious too. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re being reasonable. And not fighting me.”

“You mean because I’m kissing you and letting you touch me.”

“Because you’re giving in, Ryet. Which is not the same thing as giving up.”

“How much more will you tell me if I give in completely? Will you tell me about them ?”

He doesn’t ask who I’m talking about. He doesn’t have to. “If you give in completely, Ryet, I won’t need to tell you. Because you will remember all on your own.”

“What?” I turn to face him. But in that same moment the purple is gone, the dreamwalk fades, and it’s just me, alone, in a steaming-hot shower.

“Paul!” I yell it. Go searching for him. Trying to find the dreamwalk. Trying to find him .

But as stupid as this sounds, after all these decades, I have never actually done that before, so I have no clue how to do it now.

“Paul.” All I can do now is call for him. Beg him. “Paul!”

But he’s gone.

And now I know how it feels, don’t I?

I have left him hanging like this hundreds of times.

So I guess this is what I deserve.