by Noelle Ryan
Ugh—somehow that was more unpleasant than the thought of torture. I was doubly glad for my resistance now.
“And you’re okay with this?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she laughed. “We’ve been together for almost a century. Possessiveness becomes, mmm, impractical after that long. Especially in situations like this, when his talent is so useful.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine ever being that nonchalant about a lover, but then again, I’d yet to have a relationship last longer than a year or two. A hundred years seemed unfathomable to me.
“Open relationships aren’t my style either, in case you’re wondering,” Tom whispered from directly behind me, and I flashed back to his light kisses on my palm, blushing when I noticed Valerie arching her eyebrow and Sam clenching his jaw.
“Well, well, Delaney’s interested in the fresh meat, what a surprise. Do you think she’ll manage to keep your attention longer than the last one?” Sam said, slapping Tom on the shoulder.
Tom's arm swung at him, but Sam stepped out of the way. My blush intensified, and I stepped away from them quickly. Fresh meat? That metaphor had never been a favorite of mine, but under the circumstances it seemed especially foul. And I wasn’t sure I could even handle being a vampire just yet, much less dating one—and one who was still technically my student, I reminded myself firmly, taking another step away.
“I think I’d like to head back home now; I’m pretty tired,” I said.
“Of course,” Valerie said. “Tom, would you mind giving her a ride back? Sam and I have a few things to discuss.” She glared at Sam. “And I imagine Damian is still occupied.”
Occupied, huh? I guess that was one way to put it.
“Are you sure she should even go home tonight? That’s the second attack in as many days,” Tom said.
“Hm, fair point.” Valerie tapped her perfectly manicured finger on her chin, then turned to me. “Would you consider making yourself our guest for a bit longer Aly? I keep a few guest rooms made up anyway, and I know Damian would be happy for you to stay here.”
I weighed the comfort of home against the fear of being attacked again. It would be nice not to jump at every noise…but Beckett hated being alone, and I could never forgive myself if someone hurt him because I wasn’t there.
“I appreciate your offer, Valerie,” I said. “Believe me, I’m in no rush to get myself killed—”
“Again,” Sam said, grinning. I rolled my eyes.
“But I’d really like to be at home,” I said. “If it’s any reassurance, I have a feeling everything will be fine for the rest of the night.”
I said it without even really thinking about it, but after poking around inside my head for a moment I realized I did actually feel that way. Interesting. I was used to the feeling of a short term warning—that icy trickle, one that now apparently came with a few more details than it had when I was human—but this sensation of certain safety was a new one.
“That’s good enough for me,” Valerie said. “See you tomorrow?”
I nodded, and Valerie turned, with a gesture to Sam, and walked out of the room. Tom opened his mouth as if to say something, and then snapped it shut, his forehead wrinkling. He spun on his heel and marched out in a different direction than the one Valerie and Sam had followed. When I heard the jingle of keys, I realized my ride was about to disappear, and I jogged after him.
“What are you so pissed about?” I asked when I caught up.
“Nothing,” he said. He held the front door open for me, then locked it behind us.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“And just what’s that supposed to mean?”
He stopped trotting down the steps and turned, stiffly, to look at me.
“Just that I don’t appreciate being lied to,” he said.
My mouth dropped open, and hung there for a few undignified seconds before I snapped it shut. I crossed my arms and glared at him.
“Excuse me? Where do you get off calling me a liar, mister fake-military-student and secret vampire spy?”
He had the decency to blush for a second before he resumed glaring at me.
“That’s different. I did that to protect you, and at Damian’s request. What greater good are you serving by lying about being safe in your apartment tonight?”
“For your information, I wasn’t lying. I do have a feeling I’ll be perfectly safe tonight,” I said.
“Mm-hmm, whatever. And when have you ever predicted the absence of something before?”
“Never. But then again, I’d never been able to brainwash my best friend, anticipate the size and nature of an attack before it began, or know someone was going to call me before the phone even rang before either—but you didn’t seem to have a problem believing all those things were real.”
Another split-second blush crossed his face.
“So you weren’t just lying out of some stupid urge to get away from us?” he asked.
“No, though I will admit the idea of sleeping in a strange house with strange vampires isn’t exactly my stuff of daydreams.” I paused, and took a deep breath. “But—and I want to make sure I’m very clear about this—I do not take well to being repeatedly called a liar.” I paused. “Now are you going to drive me home, or am I going to walk?”
Tom just stared at me.
“I’m sorry, Aly, I was just—”
“I couldn’t care less why you didn’t believe me. You don’t know me that well, so your apology is enough. Just don’t do it again.”
I resumed walking down the stairs, and waited by the passenger door until he had unlocked it. We rode in silence—well, verbal silence, as the concert of night noises rushing by reminded me that I wasn't likely to experience real silence ever again—until we got to my apartment. I was reaching for my door handle when he spoke.
“How much do you trust your feeling that you’re safe tonight?”
“Enough to be here, obviously,” I snapped.
Actually, the ride home had given me enough time to wonder just how stupid I was to put my trust in an ability that I didn’t understand. All my academic training told me that was complete idiocy—but then again, my academic training also said vampires were a myth developed by primitive cultures and capitalized on by Hollywood, so I wasn’t exactly eager to put my faith in those skills either.
“I’m not questioning you Aly, but...” He paused, running a hand through his hair.
The gesture made his arm flex, and I found myself involuntarily distracted by those taut curves for a split second before I forced my eyes away. Still your student, still your student, I chanted silently, hoping my professional ethics were stronger than my hormones. At least I hoped vampires still had hormones, or else I wasn’t sure what I could blame my distractibility on.
“Would you like me to spend the night tonight?” he asked.
“What?” I almost choked on the word, my face burning now. Could he read minds?
“No, not like that. I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to, but—damn.” He stopped, looking anywhere but at me. “I meant I’d be happy to sleep on the couch, just in case something happens,” he said. “To help make sure you’re safe. Once Damian finds out you’ve left he’ll probably call and tell me to keep watch on you anyway, and I’d be able to do it a lot more comfortably from your couch than my car. But if you don’t want my company now, after, you know,” he made a stair-step gesture with his hand, and I realized he was referring to our argument outside Damian and Valerie’s house, “then I understand.”
I glanced around his car to avoid his embarrassed gaze, and noticed a few books tucked behind the driver’s seat. Had Damian stuck him outside my place at night before? I suddenly flashed back on the guys that had spent the night with me over the last few years—not many, but the thought of him seeing even one made me feel awkward.
“No, I wouldn’t mind your company, as long as you don’t mind Beckett walking a
ll over you in the middle of the night.” I glanced at the already faintly paling sky. “Or morning, I guess.”
“And Beckett would be…?”
“Oh! My cat, of course.”
Tom grinned. “I love cats. They're one of the few animals who don't seem scared by vampires.”
“Okay.” I hopped out of the car. “Come on in.”
When we walked in, I noticed my couch was still upended against the far wall. Tom walked over and casually eased it back into its normal position. Then he turned to me, the picture of wide-eyed innocent concern.
“That’s okay, right? Or did I just ruin your new decorating experiment?”
I smirked, and walked into the kitchen to retrieve Beckett’s food. Tom followed me in, sliding a box into the fridge before I closed it.
“More blood for when we wake up. I can go a few days at a time without it, but you’ll need to drink it every day for a while, especially if you stick to the donor bags. Of course,” he grinned, and for the first time I saw his fangs extend slightly “I’m happy to introduce you to the tastier approach if you want.”
I shook my head. “I still can’t imagine actually…doing that,” I whispered. A sudden vision of me as a wild-eyed maniac latched onto some innocent neck left me queasy. “I think I’ll stick to the bags.”
“Your choice.” He shrugged. “But once you try it you’ll wonder why you waited so long.”
“If, not once,” I said, shaking Beckett’s bag of kibble. Tom simply quirked an eyebrow at me, then returned to the living room.
“Do you have a spare pair of sheets and a pillow I can borrow?” he called.
“The sheets are behind the first door on the left in the hallway. I’ll grab you a pillow from my room in just a sec,” I called back, stroking Beckett as he began eating. The familiar feel of his fur under my hand was so comforting I almost drifted off to sleep where I stood.
A moment later, Tom reappeared in the kitchen holding a battered stuffed bear under one arm. My mom had given her to me when I was recovering from a tonsillectomy, and I'd never given it up.
”So, who’s my competition?” he asked, snuggling the bear up under his chin.
“Hey! I do not recall giving you permission to go into my bedroom.” I snatched Bella away from him, tucking her under one arm, and strode past him to make up the couch.
“Aww, I was hoping you’d let her keep me company tonight. No fair.”
I marched Bella back to my room, changed into my p.j.s, scooped up two pillows and one of my spare blankets, and dumped them unceremoniously on one end of the couch.
“Good night, sleep tight, hope all the bed bugs bite,” I said, and turned to go back to my room.
“Wait,” he grabbed my wrist and tugged me back around to face him. “Bathroom?”
“Why? Isn’t that kind of…unnecessary?”
“Not for that.” He mimed brushing his teeth.
“Oh! It’s the second door on the left. I’ve got a spare clean toothbrush in the medicine cabinet, if you need it.”
“Thanks.”
I turned to go again, but he still hadn’t let go of my wrist. I tugged lightly, and suddenly his face was inches from mine, his breath tickling my lips, my trapped hand pressed against his side.
“Damian’s had me watching you for almost a year, you know,” he whispered, his eyes locked on mine. “I’ve seen you in your sweats, going to that self-defense class, and in your oh-so-professional suits for important department meetings, and even in your sexy little black date dress—which I love, by the way. But I’ve never seen you look sexier than you do right now in your frayed flannel pajama pants and holey t-shirt.”
He slid one finger through the hole that was right above my hipbone as if he needed to prove the accuracy of his description. The barely perceptible brush of his finger against that rarely touched skin sent an involuntary shiver through me, and I clenched the edge of his shirt with my free hand to keep from gasping. Slowly, watching my eyes, he lowered his lips to mine.
At first I could only stand there, shocked at how my newly refined senses sharpened every element of this kiss—I felt like I was drowning in his rich wood smoke and must scent. My skin popped and danced with every slight movement of clothing or breath, and every streak of color in his eyes flared like a laser show. I felt hypnotized, everything but my mouth shocked into complete stillness. And then he ran his right hand slowly down my spine, and it was as if every muscle I’d tensed over the last twenty-four hours relaxed at once, letting a wave of delicious warmth pour through me. My arms moved up and locked around his back, drawing him closer. He gasped, and his kiss became fierce, demanding, spiking a need that poured from his lips into my entire body. The kiss became warmer, richer, and I began sucking on his lower lip. He moaned.
And then I realized that added warmth filling our kiss was blood, his blood, and that I was drinking it greedily. I dropped my arms abruptly, having to fight hard against both his arms, wrapped around me, and my sudden intense need, before I could push away.
“Oh god, what am I doing?” I whispered, horrified at the steak of blood that marked the hand I’d just pressed to my mouth.
“Aly, wait!”
But I was already in my bedroom, leaning against the closed door. I locked it with a shaking hand—not that I thought it would stop him if he really was determined to come in, but I hoped it would make it clear that things were not going any further. A second later Beckett scratched at the door, and I opened it just long enough to let him in, relocking it behind him. Then, glad my bathroom adjoined my bedroom directly, I brushed my teeth, tugged the blinds tight against the lightening sky, and crawled under my sheets, praying I would be too exhausted to think.
Seven
I awoke to pounding on my door, and Ava’s voice calling “Aly? I know you’re in there; I see your car outside. Let me in!”
I rubbed my face with my hand and grabbed my silenced cell to check the time. Two p.m.? I hadn’t slept this late since pulling all nighters on my dissertation. I stretched, calling out “I’m coming!” as I traded my pajamas for a pair of jeans and my favorite soft green t-shirt.
When my hands hit my locked door, I froze, memories from last night flushing not only my cheeks but, from the feel of it, almost every other square inch of my skin. I was not prepared to face Tom—and I was really not prepared to explain his presence to Ava. I opened my bedroom door slowly, wincing as Beckett made a mad dash across my feet for his food dish.
“Tom?” I whispered.
No response.
I walked out, peeking around the corner to my living room. The spare sheets were folded up, with the spare pillow and a note resting on top of them. I quickly stuffed the unread note in my pocket and the bedding in the closet, then grabbed my front door before Ava could start pounding again.
“Hey, what’s with the drama?” I squinted as the afternoon sun followed her in, and shut the door quickly behind her. Ugh. I’d have to ask someone whether there were any contacts I could wear to stop the instant migraines. Then I noticed the pink stripe on my hand from where the sun had hit it. Wow. I guess Tom wasn’t kidding about how fortunate it was that I usually wore sunscreen.
“Yes, it’s nice to see you too, and I’m fine, thank you,” she sniped, extending her hand, palm open. A small box rested on it. “Here, this is for you. A little get well gift.”
I picked up the box and opened it. Inside was a pair of antiqued bronze earrings that I had admired at an art fair Ava and I had scoped out together a few weeks before. Dainty long chains hung from each French ear wire, with small verdigris leaves dangling at the bottom. I slid them into my empty earlobes immediately.
“So that’s where you snuck off to when I lost you at the fair,” I said, grinning. “Thank you.”
“I was going to keep them for your birthday, but I figured recovering from an attack merits an early gift. Though you don’t seem too badly injured now that I finally get to see you.” She sounded relieved as
she hit the light switch, and then I noticed her eyes widening. “Hell, you look better than fine—Aly, your skin is practically glowing!” Her mouth opened. “Oh my god, you little sneak—you stood me up for some guy, didn’t you? Who is he? Why didn’t you just tell me the truth? I’ve been worrying myself sick this whole time.”
“Well, it’s kind of...complicated,” I said, stalling for time. Complicated didn’t even begin to cover it, but I didn’t want to will her into believing another stupid lie again if I could avoid it. And then it struck me. I’d nearly ripped Tom’s head off for accusing me of lying, but he’d heard me lie to her yesterday and I was on the verge of doing it again. So now I’m both a liar and a hypocrite. Great. I wrapped my arms around myself, clenching my fists and biting my lip.
“Take a seat complicated, or get a drink and then take a seat complicated?” Ava asked, moving toward my kitchen. Apparently she’d already decided it was the latter. “I’m pissed at you, but a good drink and better story might encourage a bit of forgiveness.” She reemerged, drink in hand. “Oh, and you might want to stop biting your lip. You’re bleeding.”
Horrified, I darted to the bathroom. Sure enough, there was a small trickle of blood headed toward my chin. I opened my mouth to examine the damage, and was startled by the sight of my own fangs. Holy crap, they were long. No wonder I’d cut Tom’s mouth last night—how could anyone kiss with these things? I reached my hand up, gently pressing my thumb against the right one.
“Ouch!” I yanked my thumb back, shocked at the red welling up.
“Aly, everything okay in there?” Ava called, pushing the door open. “I brought you some ice...” she stopped, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I didn’t have to look to realize what she saw: two needle sharp fangs, stained with blood. We both simply stood there for a moment. Then she stuck the ice-filled paper towel in my hand, shook her head, and walked out.
“Wait!” I called out, only it sounded wrong, my refusing-to-retract fangs mangling my speech. I followed her out of the bathroom, hovering in the hallway because she had walked over to stare out the patio door, leaving sunlight lancing into the room past the blinds she’d tugged aside. After a moment, she let them fall, turning back towards me, a now empty glass in her hand.