Page 26 of The Awakening

The silence is weighted, and I smile. This doctor is something else. “Are you going to answer my question? What’s your preference?”

“I guess I don’t really have a preference… but are we talking sex?”

“You’realways talking sex, so I’m assuming so.”

He breathes a laugh. “Christ.Well, women are more… comfortable? To sleep with. Men are…”

“Not?” I offer.

“I don’t dislike it. It’s just… Obviously, there are loads of ways to have sex. But in my experience, men are always a little gruff and vulgar, like they have something to prove? Some men act like you’re a keyhole to stick their cocks in, don’t they? Like, ‘Oh right, this will fit nicely in here, okay that was lovely, ta-ta and cheerio.’ They walk away whistling and adjusting their monocle because they don’t give an actual shit about the keyhole itself. Or the fact that a person isnota keyhole in the first place.”

“And women don’t treat you like you’re a keyhole?”

Jae laughs. “No. They don’t. And I don’t treat them like one either.”

“I’m sorry that’s been your experience.”

“That’s life,” he says. I don’t like the apathy in his tone.

“Not always, Jae. Not every male is like that.”

“Yeah?”

I smile again. This doctor makes me smile a lot. Something about him is very honest and… Cute? Like he’s not hiding anything from me at all, and I want to wrap his feisty and perverted little personality up and squeeze it against my chest. “Yeah. Don’t give up hope.”

“I haven’t,” he says. “Lately, I’m thinking about a rather leggy gentleman with obsidian eyes that reminds me of bourbon treacle.”

There it is again. I’m smiling.

“Do you have any siblings?” he asks.

“I have an older sister. She’s living in Jamaica.” My sister is interesting. As soon as our father died, she exiled herself from Japan and never came back. She doesn’t even speak in Japanese to me even though we grew up speaking it in the house. Only Spanish or English. When I was a child, I stayed out of our father’s way and did what I was told, primarily because I was afraid of him and didn’t want to be beaten. But sheconstantlybutted heads with him. Mom always said they were too much alike. My sister really hated it when she said that.

“Do you?” I ask.

“No, I don’t. Always wished I did, though. Are you close to her? Your sister, I mean.”

“We talk pretty regularly—at least once a month. And I like her mate. She’s also first-gen.”

“Oh wow, she’s mated…”

“She is. They’ve been together for about twenty years.”

“That’s nice,” Jae says, then pauses. Dead space is hanging between us on the line, as if he wants to say something.

“What is it?” I prompt.

“Do you ever date ranked vampires?”

“No,” I admit. “Ranked vampires are glamorized in human culture, but the truth is they’re rigid and difficult.”

“Is this a warning?”

I laugh. “Maybe? That’s been my experience. I think yours will be different.” I don’t think I’m rigid or difficult. In my mind, I’m much more relaxed and easier-going than your typical ranked vamp. My only point of contention is feeling subjugated.

Only a purebred can assert their rank over me since I’m a fairly old-blooded first-gen. I wouldneverbe with a purebred. My father was purebred with an exquisite bloodline, and he used that fact to boss us all around and run a painfully strict household.

When I was young, my mother loved dancing. Merengue, salsa, bachata. Father forbade her from dancing (and eventually from working as a nurse as well). It was “improper” and “unsophisticated.” The wild swaying of hips to lurid music.