Page 56 of Blood Moon

He seemed taken by my redirect but adjusted accordingly. “We prefer Blood Lycans, but yes. That is correct.” He grabbed another granola bar, and I grabbed one, too, along with a bottle of water.

I pulled my knees to my chest while I ate. “How does it work … being a hybrid?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you need to drink blood to survive?”

“No, not exactly. It took a while for us to narrow down how blood worked in our diet. The babies would drink it, and it would help them grow faster and stronger, but they got the same benefit from milk, too. The more the baby grows, the more we wean the blood from their diet.” Julian averted his gaze.

“Now, after childhood, we drink blood for two reasons: pleasure and recovery.” Pleasure.

I drew in a stilted breath and hurried to take another bite of my granola bar.

“Why don’t you have fangs?”

“It’s a magic trick, Bells,” he said, and hearing him call me that didn’t elicit the same vulgar reaction it once had.

“I hide them, see?” He smiled. A flash, and his teeth were points, vampiric.

Another flash, and they were normal. It was fascinating.

Julian sat up a little. “Can I ask you a question?”

I nodded.

“Earlier, before the crash, you mentioned your mother told you about the vampire and the wolf who fell in love. How did she know that?”

“I …” I hadn’t considered how pivotal the storyline was to Julian’s species.

“Honestly, I thought she made it up. When she’d tell me the legends of Timber Plains, I figured she exaggerated the story for theatrical effect.

Everyone in this town tells it differently, you know?

But she never got around to telling me the ending. ”

“It didn’t end well for them.” He said it like the words were a fist. Like they were a knife.

“Why?”

“Not all the vampires who agreed to peace mated with the wolves. Many of them were against interspecial relations, but due to the conditions of the treaty, they continued to live beside them, until one day, in the still of the night, a small coven went back on their word. They led the Elites straight to us, causing a war that’s lasted for centuries.

It’s been vampires against werewolves against Blood Lycans since before I was born. ”

“Why hasn’t it ended yet?”

“Sometimes vengeance doesn’t have a timeline.” It was a line worth contemplating. One to be chewed and digested. I sat with it in silence, except for the pitter-patter of water around.

In the dimness, I noticed Julian’s shirt and shorts seeped with water. “Are you going to sit in those clothes?”

“They’ll be damp in no time.”

“There’s nothing else in there?” The bag was big, items still stuck inside.

“There’s another shirt, but …” he looked at his arm. “It’s probably not worth it to put it on.”

“I can help.”

He twitched, a wince in his face as he moved. “No, you don’t have to dress me.”

“Julian, come on .” I scooted closer. “You saved my life. Twice. Let me do this for you. Plus, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have a broken arm in the first place.”

“Please,” he mumbled. “Stop taking all the blame.”

I swallowed, yanked the bag to me before he could get to it. He watched me with pensive eyes as I dug around and pulled out a faded blue shirt. I set the bag aside and gradually closed the distance between the two of us, holding my breath as if it would stop my anxiety.

He stared at me blankly, and I stared back, lips folding as I sat on my knees in front of him. “What’s the best way to do this?” I measured Julian. The shirt he wore seemed plastered to his body from how drenched it was.

One glance down, and he sighed. “Just rip it,” he said, and I furrowed my brows before pressing my fingers to the collar to tug and tear. A problem arose. His shirt was much harder to rip while wet, the water making it heavier and difficult to cut through.

At my third try, Julian touched my hand, and I flinched before realizing he wanted to get my attention.

“Here.” He raised the collar to his mouth, and I backed away.

In a flicker, his canines extended, turning into sharp daggers.

Like hot wax, his teeth sliced through the collar, and then he released it, offering it over to me to finish the job.

Shock hit me first as I stared, mesmerized. He grinned.

I blinked, and then his eyes were locked on me as I ripped the remainder of his shirt, the sound so loud between our breathing and the rain. I hadn’t realized I’d bitten my lip while I tore it, and there, on my flesh, was a small prick of fresh blood.

Julian’s eyes darkened, his breathing intensified, and I leaned away from him, covered my mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

He caught my hand, shook his head, and whispered, “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. The smell, the sight … it doesn’t bother me as much as it would have if I were younger.”

I hesitated. Something as mundane as blood used to seem so trivial, but now it came with a neon sign. It was the reminder of how I’d already bled today that reeled me back in. I had cuts on my legs and arms, none of which had made Julian recoil.

I returned to where I’d been, peeling away the shirt.

My gaze drifted to the dip and curve of each muscle in his abdomen.

His tattoos there, and there. A small trail of fine hair leading there .

And it was quite rude to stare the way I did.

A small voice taunted me, tempting me to press a finger to his chest, run it down the lines of him …

It was the way I wrestled with the idea that threw me. What, exactly, was I debating here when I knew the answer? I continued my stride, unsure how long I’d been inattentive.

A red tint coated Julian’s cheeks when my gaze met his face, and his eyes had gone doe-like. He was as enamored with me as I was with him. The thought crushed at my lungs, pulled at my navel.

Again, I had to remind myself of the task. I grabbed the folded shirt beside me. Steadied myself, then placed it over his head. The force pulled his hair into his eyes, and his breathing hitched when I pushed the wet strands away from his face.

With a careful tug, I undid the sling, and he bit down. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, assisting as he placed his injured arm through the hole of the shirt. The remainder of the process went smoothly, and after, I helped tie his sling back together.

“Thank you,” he breathed, and in the second I decided to move away, he held onto me, his free hand touching the small of my back. “Mira,” he said, and the sound was nearly inaudible.

My body warmed at the sight of his glistening eyes in the faint light. The way he touched me, the way he said my name, his need for me to stay close. It felt like a sin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For disappearing this past week, for being difficult at homecoming. When I’m around you, I’m always in a state of conflict, and it doesn’t bring out the best version of me.

And being near you …” He stopped to collect himself, eyes still fixed on mine, pulling me closer.

Our knees touched. “Being near you, I realize that I’ve grown to like you against reason.

Against peace. Against every inherent fiber in my being telling me not to. ”

Julian reached a hand to me and threaded it through my hair, curls and frizz tangling together. “Everything about you is so addicting, and for once, I want to give into that,” he finished, and he held my hand, pressed it to his lips, kissed my knuckles.

It was carnivorous, the way I ached for his touch.

I tried to force that feeling down, remind myself of this newfound alliance, but there was a buoyancy that continued to resurface, bringing me back to him.

When he released my hand, I tethered myself to him, sitting in his lap, wrapping my legs around his waist.

In a whisper, foreheads close, he murmured, “Do you feel the same way for me, that I feel for you?”

And if yearning could speak, it would say my name in every tongue. I was devoted to weld myself in the crooks of him like I belonged there. “Yes,” I uttered, and it took me all of three seconds to grasp what I already knew. Because I did. Of course, I did. There was no fooling the jester.

A gentle smile found his lips, and as I sank further into his lap, arms draped over his shoulders, I kissed him, stealing his breath like a possession, like he was my last hope.

He kissed me back with everything he had. He kissed me like it was primal, like the entirety of what he was clung to the edge of my lips, like he could taste the velvet in my bones.

It left me breathless, this kiss.

It toppled over time, making up for all the minutes, seconds, moons we hadn’t touched.

For the way we coveted each other, like the last bit of sunlight striking a stained glass window in a deserted church.

For the way we’d been thorns in flesh, poking at one another’s side.

For we were fragile, folding slowly into sunken breath, ravenous and longing to eat.

And it was the only thing that mattered. Not that we were running. Not that I feared for my life. Not that we were ruined from rain and sweat, just this kiss.

It overwhelmed me and tugged at me until we fell to the floor. We were grabbing, moving, broken, tortured creatures, until the monster suddenly stilled in us both.

Away we shifted, parting lips, and I wondered, with the weight of his chest pressing into me as he breathed, if offering my blood was treacherous thinking.

“Julian,” I started, voice quiet at first. “If you drank my blood, would it help you recover faster?” It wasn’t a primary consideration, but even though we were across state lines, the growing threat of being hunted remained.

We were also in a dark forest, without technology and real food.

I didn’t want to sleep here if we didn’t have to.

Julian sat up, surprise brushing every line in his face. “It would …”

I sat up, too, fixing my hair. “Like, how fast, exactly?”

He spoke in a measured way. “Maybe an hour … probably less.”

If it meant I only needed to wait sixty minutes, if it meant we could escape these woods and head to safety, I’d start the timer now. “I want you to drink my blood.”

Julian was shaking his head before he said anything. “No, you don’t need to offer yourself, Mira. We just need rest, and I’ll be fine.” It was a lie. He was like glass, this man. The truth was painted there, right over his chest.

“It’ll be hours before we’re out of here, Julian. We can’t afford to wait,” I pressed, getting close to him again, climbing into his lap.

He sighed, dropped his shoulders. “Mira,” he said warily, and I knew he wanted to deny my offer, but he didn’t outright. “You don’t know all the risks.”

“Like what? Tell them to me,” I demanded quietly. “Would it turn me into a vampire?”

“No, I don’t have the power to do that.”

“Would my blood … could it hurt you?”

“No.”

“Will I die?”

“No.”

“So then, what?”

“I feel like you’re diving into this without thinking. I want you to be sure.”

“I am sure, and I’m confident in my decision, even if you aren’t. This is me being proactive, Julian. I don’t want to be stuck out here, hiding. What will waiting allow us, if we don’t have time?” His stare flickered away from me. “Is it that … is it that you’re afraid?”

Julian’s head tilted back, hair tumbling away. A bob of his throat as the words implanted there. “It’s been a long time since I’ve tasted someone’s blood like this.”

I waited, wondering what he meant by that. “How else do you get blood?”

“Since it’s not required for survival, it means I can be selective. Meaning … it has always been a rather intimate experience.”

I understood what he meant immediately, but also in that understanding was the burning curiosity of who it’d been, and what they’d meant to Julian. “Okay,” I said.

“Okay?” he repeated the question, a hitch in his face.

“Yes. This is what I want.”

Julian’s eyes dulled into a bleakness that was hard to place at first. Maybe it was unspoken depravity. Maybe it was the unnerving vulnerability, a tale that muttered he’d never taste my blood. Maybe it was the tamed hunger—but despite all those very real things, I was his salvation.

“You trust me?” he breathed.

And I knew he needed to hear me say it. He craved my permission like he was on his knees. I stared at his full lips, leaning closer to him, air on his mouth. With definite truth, I said, “Julian, I trust you.”