Page 89 of My Big Fat Vampire Wedding

There were the bags and bruises, sure. But more than that, he seemed a little gaunt, so thin in the face that his cheekbones had hollowed out.

If it were possible, she would think he was sick. But vampires didn’t get sick. At least as far as she knew. Some members of her family mentioned some sort of vampire plague thousands of years back. But Pandora was suspicious of the validity of that story since those particular family members were known for stretching the truth.

“I’ve been coming here during the day,” Dante said, waving back toward the pond.

“I’ve put that part together. But … why?”

“I love it here,” Dante said, shrugging. “I love swimming. I love being out in the daytime. I …” He looked off into the distance. “I hate being a vampire.”

“Oh, Dante,” Pandora said, her heart aching for him. No, she didn’t love every aspect of being a vampire, but she didn’t hate it exactly, either. She sure loved the idea of eternity to read all the books she still had on her to-be-read shelf.

“You don’t love it either,” Dante said, looking back at her, willing her to agree with him. “You don’t feed. I know you don’t. And you haven’t for a long time.”

“No,” she replied. “I don’t feed. I drink pig’s blood. It’s more like … like a human being vegetarian, though. It’s kind of a moral thing for me. Not that I hate who I am. Just that I don’t want to hurt anyone just to feed myself.”

“There are human donors.”

“But they’re glamoured,” Pandora said, shrugging.“That just feels wrong too. Pig blood is a good substitute. It’s just … not something I want to share with the family. You know how they are.”

“I can’t stand any blood most of the time now. But, yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s part of the reason I’m working here too. I want to take care of myself. Provide for myself. I don’t want to be jumping through hoops to get an inheritance from Mum and Dad.”

“I get that,” Pandora said. “I really like working too. But … you could get a night job. Or a job at an indoor pool. This is so dangerous,” she said, waving up, indicating the sun above her umbrella.

“Is it?” Dante asked, something strange in his eyes that Pandora wasn’t sure she’d seen there before.

But then, he was reaching out, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket and pulling it up, then thrusting his hand out toward the sun.

“What are you doing?” Pandora squeaked, trying to stay under her umbrella but also push it out far enough to cover his hand.

“Just watch,” he said, wiggling his pale fingers in the sun’s rays.

Pandora’s stomach twisted in knots. But he didn’t spark, let alone catch fire. He didn’t even … burn.

What was going on?

Confused, Pandora threw out her own arm.

She was mostly covered, but there was a small sliver between the top of her glove and where her jacket reached down.

Immediately, though, she felt the sizzle on her skin, saw the smoke, smelled her skin starting to burn.

“Ow,” she said, snatching her arm back.

Dante looked sympathetic as he just stood there with his arm not sizzling or smoking.

Then he used that arm to reach into his pocket, producing a tube that looked a bit like a lip balm, but at least twice that size.

“What is that?” she asked.

Instead of answering, Dante reached for her arm, turning it so the unburned underside was showing, then uncapped the tube to rub some of the thick white contents onto her skin.

“Now try,” he said. When she didn’t grasp his meaning, he pulled her arm back out from under the umbrella and into the sunlight.

This time, though, she didn’t sizzle, didn’t smoke, didn’t burn at all.

“What?” she said, frowning at her arm, then looking at her brother’s skin. “What is in that tube, Dante?”

“Something I’ve been working on in my free time.”