Page 37 of Inked & Bloodbound

But the metallic taste of fear is sharp on my tongue, and my hands are shaking as I press them against my chest to feel the palpitations gradually settling into a more natural rhythm.

“You can ask me again,” he says softly. “I’ll tell you the truth.”

“Why can I hear your thoughts?”

“I think you know why.”

The air in the room stills, and my words come out croaky, small and loaded with fear. “Because you’re…not alive.”

“Not completely,” he says. “But I am not dead either.”

“How…is that possible?”

He stares off in the distance like he’s searching for the right words somewhere in the atmosphere, but none come to him. The silence feels like it drags on for minutes, but it’s only a few seconds.

“I’m a vampire.”

The word hangs heavy in the thick silence. Then it dissipates as the room fills with a loud, high-pitched shrieking sound. A sound, I realize, I’m the source of.

I’m laughing,cacklingactually, like a feral hyena, and he’s staring at me like I’m insane. It’s so funny, so absurd that I’m laughing so much it hurts. Grasping my aching ribs and wheezing in between gulps of air.

He’s got to be fucking kidding me.

“A…a…what?” I manage between breaths.

His face is grim and irritated, but he doesn’t budge. This time he says it louder: “A vampire.”

I laugh and laugh until I get it out of my system, and when I can breathe normally again, I swipe away the tears that have streaked my flushed cheeks and make a move to stand up. Cassini smiles at me, and the two gleaming fangs are back, glinting in the darkness like a couple of terrifying shards.

“Oh my God, you’re serious, aren’t you?” I say, pulling back slowly.

“Yes. I’m serious.”

I leap off the couch and scuttle backwards until my back slams against the wall with a thud.

“What…the… How? How is this possible? How long have you been…” I gesture vaguely at him, unable to finish the sentence.

“Dead?” A bitter smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “A very long time.”

“How long is very long?”

He’s quiet for a moment, like he’s debating how much of the truth to share with me. “Many centuries. I am much older than your so-called America.”

The air leaves my lungs in a rush. “Centuries? Jesus Christ.”

“I’m not as old as him. No.” He leans back to relax into the couch, like this is all totally normal, and gestures for me to sit down next to him. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I’ll answer them. You can come back if you like. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Yeah, right. That sounds like a trap. I’ll go sit down next to the hot old undead guy and wait for him to drain my blood and leave me for dead.

I hear his voice in my head, but his lips don’t move.

Lily, nothing’s changed. I’m not going to hurt you.

I push him back with my thoughts.Don’t fucking do that! It’s so rude. Get out of my head.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t do that. I’ve just never had a connection like this.”

“Me neither,” I admit. “But you lied to me, and this is an insane thing to process. How is this even happening? Can you always hear me thinking?”