Page 39 of My Roommate Is a Vampire

A pause. “Yes?”

I took a deep breath. “The other night, after you... before I ran out, you said you could give me an explanation.”

“Yes.”

“Do you still want to give it to me?” My heart was pounding. Was I really doing this?

His voice was quiet, guarded, when he next spoke. “I do.” And then, after another long moment, he added, “But only if you wantto hear what I have to say. I will not force myself, or my story, on you.”

I took another deep breath. “I’d like to hear it.”

“Wonderful. But, may I ask what made you change your mind?”

My breath caught at the hopeful note I heard in his voice. How should I answer that? Should I tell him the truth? That I’d been thinking about him more than was probably wise since I’d moved out—enough to start doing my own research into vampires? That the letter he sent was one of the sweetest letters I’d ever received?

No. I wasn’t ready for that.

So I gave him part of the truth. “I feel bad about running out on you without giving you a chance to explain, when it was so obvious you had more to say. And I believe you, now, when you say you won’t hurt me.”

“I willneverhurt you,” he said emphatically. “Never.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, unsure what to do with the emotion I heard in his voice.

“I believe you,” I said. “But I have a lot of questions.”

“Of course. I understand this is a lot for any human to absorb. I will be at home all evening. Would you care to come by and talk then?”

“No.” We needed a neutral meeting place. I still wasn’t completely sure what my next move would be, and I didn’t want the awesomeness of the apartment or my undeniable attraction to Frederick to sway my decision-making. Besides—if I was totally wrong about him and Frederick was playing a long game with respect to eating me, I wanted to do this in a public place. “How about Gossamer’s?”

“Gossamer’s?”

“It’s the coffee shop where I work. I’ll text you the address.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “When?”

I swallowed. No turning back now. “Tonight at eight?”

“Perfect.” A pause. “I am very much looking forward to seeing you again, Cassie.”

His voice was soft and sincere. I tried to ignore the way that made my stomach flip, but didn’t really succeed.

“Me, too,” I said, meaning it.

EIGHT

Letter from Mrs. Edwina Fitzwilliam to Mr. Frederick J. Fitzwilliam, dated October 29

My dearest Frederick,

I am in receipt of your most recent letter. Reading it has done nothing to assuage my concerns. Your decision to remain in Chicago and to put your safety in the hands of a wastrel like Reginald and a young human woman is unwise at best—and DANGEROUS at worst. This poor decision-making is MOST UNLIKE the Frederick I once knew!

I fear it is but further evidence that your mental state is compromised from your century of slumber.

I would be remiss in my duties as the eldest remaining member of our family—and as someone who cares for you, DESPITE our history—if I allowed you to cancel our family’s arrangement withthe Jamesons. If Miss Jameson is sending you gifts I daresay that is a GOOD thing! It is a sign of her continued affection for you despite your continual rebuffs. You MUST open her gifts, and should send her some gifts IN RETURN as a sign of the long-standing goodwill between our two families.

Do not continue to vex me like this, Frederick.

Yours,