by Jill Nolan
"This can't happen again," I try to sound as resolute as possible, but it sounds more like a plea.
"And why is that?" he asks, pulling back to look in my eyes.
I swallow. "It's wrong. You're a killer. You just admitted you should have killed me, and I've personally seen you kill too many people."
"I haven't hurt you, and I killed those men to save you."
"Bullshit. You killed them to protect your secret."
"That was part of it. But even if you hadn't told them anything, I would have killed them for what they did to you."
"I wouldn't have even been in that situation if not for you."
“Discovering me that night is on you. Who goes walking around the woods at night?”
“Are you serious? I thought someone needed help, which, clearly, they did. But, whatever, just blame the victim.”
“You weren't the victim in that situation, though you easily could have been. Would you blame the lion for killing the zebra that snuck up on it?"
“I would blame the lion for killing more zebra than he needs. I would blame the lion for even killing zebra at all, when he could just feed off of them and let them go.”
“Let me get this straight. According to you, I’m supposed to go around biting people, only taking some blood, because, being so noble, we probably wouldn’t want them passing out. Then I'd have to feed at least six times more often, bringing a lot of attention to myself and my kind.”
“I’m sure there are ways to do that, like stealing blood bags, or working a job where you can take blood…or going to some kind of underground vampire place where people volunteer or get paid.”
“You watch too much vampire tv. Can it be done? Maybe. But it would be incredibly difficult and way too risky. Humans can’t be trusted. Their minds are too easily changed, too easily corrupted. And you know what, I like the hunt.” He’s scaring me now. The look in his eyes is so intense, like maybe I’m the one he’s hunting.
"Exactly. You're a killer."
"I kill to live, just like the lion, the wolf, just like you and every other human. Everyone survives on the lives of other things."
"But you survive on the lives of humans."
"And why is that so wrong? Humans are animals. Are you not allowed to shoot more deer when they become overpopulated? When their numbers start affecting the ecosystem? Humans are nothing but an overpopulated parasite that are single-handedly destroying the earth. I'm just doing my part to save the planet."
"That's different."
"Not to me. I kill for survival. Humans kill for sport, for fashion, for fun, for gluttony, out of convenience and entitlement and greed, but rarely for survival."
"I'm not saying that's right, but—"
"You're just saying that's not as wrong as what I do? The arrogance of humans never fails to amuse me. You see yourselves as better than the animals you slaughter, when in fact, you're worse. Your lack of respect for life is astounding. Even the animals you claim to love, your pets," he spits the word in disgust, "are kept in small cages or kept inside or on a leash; you do not allow them to live as animals. You should be glad that those of us who feed off of you don't treat you like your farm animals, stuffed in small pens and left to suffer for the duration of your short, meaningless lives."
I'm at a loss for words, feeling angry, defensive, but also guilty. He has a point, but that doesn't make him right. I think back to Sparkles, my guinea pig, whom I loved; I think about the cage he was in, which was fairly big but still small as fair as environments go; I think how I tried to let him out and play with him and pet him often, but sometimes he was forgotten for friends. I think about how, if I was kept like that, that would not be considered a life at all. I try to ignore the guilt I feel at not having taken care of him better, at keeping him locked up in the first place.
Then I think about all of those horrible PETA videos of farm animals being mistreated. After I had watched one of those tapes in high school, I made a list of humane farms that sold meat products in our grocery store, and my mom agreed to buy only those products. Once I went to college and had to buy my own groceries, I realized I couldn't easily afford the meat products from the farms I deemed most humane. So, I bought the cheapest products I could and pushed the thoughts of those suffering animals to the back of my mind.
I grasp on to the one thing I can argue at the moment. "Derek sure looked like he suffered plenty."
He laughs, cold and harsh. "Well, I didn't say it wasn't fun to play with your food."
"Is that what you're doing right now? Playing with your food? Are you going to kill me when you get bored of me?"
"I may be a killer with very little empathy, but I'm not a complete fucking psychopath. You don't need to fear me." His voice is angry but there's sincerity in his eyes that surprises me. He means it, every word. The expression disappears, quickly morphing into something predatory. "But I think you like being afraid of me." He pushes into me further. Anger and fear and lust fight inside me.
Faster than I can react, I feel his hand travel up my arm to the back of my head as he leans down to kiss me. It’s a hard, passionate kiss. One that I can’t help but return.
I said I wouldn’t do this again.
I use the anger he provoked out of me supply my self-control, to push him away from me.
“Stop.”
“Is that what you really want?”
“Yes, leave.”
He leaves through my balcony door, and I close the door after him, watching him through the window. He’s looking at me, but not with anger like I thought. His expression is one of determination. I watch him turn into a bat and then fly away.
I got what I wanted.
I finally made the right decision.
I climb into bed and relive our conversation.
After I’ve finished dissecting our conversation, I relive last night. Unfortunately, that brings back needs that he isn’t here to fulfill.
I regret making him leave. I regret doing the right thing. I regret not doing now what I would’ve regretted doing later.
I just want him. My body wants him, aches for him.
Why him?
Chapter 24
Allison and I are back at the bar where we first met Mason. It’s Friday night, and she wanted to go out. That's what I keep telling myself. We probably won't see Mason. That's also what I keep telling myself...and the complete opposite of what I'm actually hoping for. How pathetic am I?
I haven't seen him since I told him to leave five days ago, but Mason has been like an invasive species growing in my brain. He's not supposed to be there, yet I haven't been able to get him out of my head. Even when I am really trying not to think about him, more thoughts of him invade my mind further. I can never seem to eradicate him from my mind completely.
I don't see him at the bar, and I realize just how much I wanted to see him when disappointment cuts like a razor.
Stop being so frickin’ dramatic, Keegan.
We walk up to our friends, and my eyes land on Nic immediately. This is the first time I’ve seen him since we ended it. Will it be weird now? Will he be angry with me?
When he looks at me, he gives me a small smile. I let out a breath of relief that he doesn't seem to hate me. I smile back. He comes over and gives me a hug, holding me as he says in my ear, "I'm sorry about how I reacted last week."
"It's okay; you don't need to apologize…I'm sorry, too, though." He still doesn't let go of me. I release my arms from around Nic and step back, forcing him to let me go.
I greet everyone else with a normal length hug, making small talk. I glance to my left and spot Mason heading right for us. His black hair hangs loosely on either side of his face, giving him a perfectly disheveled look. His full lips pull into a smirk when he sees me. My heart practically stops, and I start to get nervous. I don't know how to act around him in public.
"Hey Allison," Mason says as he pulls her in for a hug. Mason's eyes are on me as he hugs her, so I look
down, suddenly interested in studying the back of my hand.
I look at Allison's face as Mason pulls away, and even though she's with Tom, I can see that she still wants Mason. I forgot that she had a thing for him. I wonder if she'd be upset that I slept with him. It's not like she knew him enough to actually like him, and she's got Tom now. Still, I feel guilty that I haven't told her yet, but I don’t want anyone knowing. Allison would never judge me for sleeping with him, unless she knew what he is and what he’s done and exactly what he’s looked like when I slept with him... I can’t imagine how disgusted she’d be if she knew what I’d really done. And anyway, I don't know if it's supposed to be a secret or not.
"Keegan," Mason greets me, pulling me into a hug. This is no platonic, friendly hug; it's charged with sexual tension. With the way he hugs me close and tight, the way his body feels under my hands, I don’t want to let go.
When he releases me, he stays standing next to me, deliberately invading my personal space. I’m keenly aware of just how close he is to me, and I find myself wanting to get closer. I have to get away from him; his nearness is preventing me from thinking straight.
I lean in to Allison, “I’ll get the first round. Be right back.”
I head to the bar and put in my order.
As I wait for the drinks, someone puts their hands on either side of me on the bar. I turn to find Mason next to me, his one arm practically around my waist, trapping me against the bar and himself. He's barely touching me, yet I can feel his presence behind me, giving me nervous butterflies. Not just nervous, though, excited, turned on even. Seriously, what is wrong with me?
"What did you order?" he asks in my ear, sending tingles all the way through my body. I unconsciously move backwards, so our bodies are actually touching. And the feel of him against me is electric.
What am I doing? I quickly move back against the bar, away from his body.
"Vodka and tonic," I answer matter-of-factly. My standoffish attitude isn't going to work if I'm going to press myself into him. I'm trying to stay away from the murderous vampire, not crawl back into his arms.
Except he isn't a vampire tonight, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about him.
"That's pretty much exactly what I pictured you drinking." His tone is light and teasing.
"And what are you drinking? A bloody Mary?" I turn around to glare at him.
"Only in the mornings," he says with a smile, his human brown eyes so warm on me. My gaze is drawn to his smile, making me remember how soft his full lips were on mine and how good it felt each time he claimed my mouth. I turn around to hide my own smile.
"I don't suppose there's a magic word to get you to leave me alone here?"
"All you have to do is ask..."
"Okay, will you leave me alone?"
"You have to mean it."
"I did mean it."
"I'm not buying it."
Neither am I.
The bartender comes back then, handing me the two drinks, but before I can pay, Mason says to him, "I'll get her drinks, and can I have a Manhattan?"
The bartender nods and walks away.
"You don't have to do that."
"I wanted to. But I am going to require that you now talk to me for at least five minutes."
I can't help but laugh. "And if I refuse?"
"Oh, you don't want to refuse..." he says threateningly in my ear, sending chills down my neck. "It involves me looking depressed and alone at the bar."
"How sad."
"Exactly. Don't let it come to that."
"Somehow, I think you'd find someone to keep you company." I think of all the girls he's slept with then. Is he still sleeping with them? I shouldn't care; I don't want to care. But the thought of him being with others... well, it creates a little flare of jealousy.
"I'm not looking for anyone else to keep me company." He looks at me intently, his eyes reading genuine.
I swallow hard. Is that a line? Or is that an actual sweet, romantic comment? What he's implying is basically making me melt for him. It's going to be impossible to be angry or even nonchalant with him if he's going to say things like that. This strangely warm, flirtatious encounter contradicts the extreme violence I know he's capable of. More than capable.
"I'm not keeping you company anymore." I'm not sure if I believe myself, but I try to sound like I do.
"I'm only asking for five minutes."
I press my lips together, but I stay where I am, wordlessly agreeing. I sip on my drink, relaxing as the alcohol slides down my throat.
"Do you often come to this shithole bar?" he asks.
"Uh, well, I haven't been twenty-one for that long, so I've only been here a few times. And you?"
"I'm here too often."
"Why do you come here if you don't like it?"
"I don't know if you've noticed, but there's not a whole lot of options in this town. Tonight, I came because I thought you might be here. And here you are."
"What brought you to the Dells?"
"Opportunity. Plus, it's close to home."
The bartender comes back with his drink, and Mason thanks him.
He takes a sip, while I watch him. "Now that's a real drink," he says.
"Is that so?" I tease. "Can I try it?" He hands me his glass. I take a sip, cringing at the strength of the drink and the burn down my throat. "It's...strong."
He gives me a sly smile. "This is a man's drink."
"Interesting. Your man's drink has a cherry in it. That's not very manly. You should probably hand that over."
"You can't emasculate me into giving you this cherry. That's the best part."
"What if I asked really nicely? Please?" I ask sweetly, giving him an innocent smile.
He smiles back at me, then shakes his head. "Fine," he says grudgingly.
He hands me the little stick with the cherry on it, and I eat it while looking at him. "Yum. That was so good. Too bad they didn't give you two, so you could have had one." He narrows his eyes at me, but I can see the amusement in them.
"Thanks for the drinks and the cherry." I walk back to my friends as I fight to suppress the stupid grin on my face.
I try to get into the conversation, but I can't focus, except on him. I'm finding it almost impossible to not keep looking over at him, studying him discreetly (hopefully). I thought it might be weird, seeing him in person and acting normal around him, but it's surprisingly easy. He's funny and cute and flirty.
I watch him interact with everyone else and see a whole different side of him. Not that he wasn't like this before, but I never really paid attention. Now that I know what he really is, it's strange to see him with other people, in a bar, making jokes, laughing, being a normal guy.
And the way he looks at me…it's enough to make me ache to be closer to him. And the scary part is that the ache isn't just about lust or sex. I push that thought away though, because I can't admit to any kind of feelings for him.
I didn't think much of his looks before. He was just kind of neutral to me, but I can no longer imagine why. He doesn't have Nic's distinct good looks, but he's still quite handsome, especially when he smiles. That smile, along with his body, is probably what keeps attracting these girls to his lap. It seems to have attracted one right now. A girl is talking to him, clearly flirting, leaning in close, giggling.
I look away and squash my jealousy down. What a stupid, pathetic feeling. Why would I be jealous?
I am though. Damn it. Stupid feelings.
I mean, she doesn't even know who he really is.
Wow, yeah, like I know?
I don't want to know him, and I don't care if he sleeps with her, because I'm done with him.
Okay, every part of that sentence was a straight up lie. Fine. But, at the very least, I can decide to not be jealous, because I really do hate that ugly emotion born of insecurity.
I sneak another peek at Mason, finding him turning away from the girl. She looks disappointed when she walks away. I take a sip
of my drink to hide my satisfaction.
All of a sudden, I feel an arm around me. I look over to find Nic smiling at me, pulling me in close. "Want to hang out at your place?"
"I don't think that's a good idea," I say uncomfortably.
"I shouldn't have made this into something it wasn't. I'd still like to hang out with you."
I happen to glance to the left and spot Mason. He's staring at us with murder in his eyes. Shit. He's still terrifying when human. And jealous like me. Or is that possessiveness?
This can’t be good.
"And I'd like to keep hanging out with you...but just as friends." I maneuver my way out from under his arm and head for Allison near the bar, needing some distance from a very drunk Nic and a very angry Mason.
Mason intercepts me before I can get there.
"I thought you ended it with him."
"And if I didn't?"
"Then I can end it for you."
Is he threatening to kick his ass, like a normal jealous asshole would do? Or is he threatening to literally kill him, like a psychotic jealous asshole would do?
"You better not do a damn thing. I did end it, okay?"
"And he knows that?”
I grab his forearm to keep him from going to Nic. “Yes, he knows; he’s just drunk. Leave him alone.”
“If you insist."
I scowl at him, even as I can't help but noticing how muscular his forearms are. He has those arms that look so manly, with the perfect amount of hair and muscle.
"In case you were wondering," he leans in, "I wasn't going to kill him...even if I really want to."
"That's reassuring.” I really don’t know how to feel about all this. It’s like part of me is glad that he cares that I’m not with anyone else, and the other part of me is terrified that he continues to show an interest in me.
“Come on,” he says, leading me to a less-crowded area of the bar.
When he doesn't speak immediately, I start questioning him. "So, the Dells is close to home? Have you lived around here your whole life?"