The sunlight turns a strained orange color, almost looking burned, as it reaches through the tree branches down onto the ground all around me.
When I started this day, I surely didn’t think it’d end up with my butt in the dirt, watching my shirtless protector sweat as he sharpens the points of branches into spears with his fingernails. Heck, when I woke this morning, I had no idea I’d ever see him again, much less learn his name, have him save my life a second time, and lastly whisk me away into the middle of the woods.
Thus far, my twentieth year is either the most bizarre I’ve ever known, or it has become so dull that I’ve lost my mind and decided to live in a fantasy world. Scary to think I’m only two days into it. As I watch him with all of his attention on tearing into the branches to make sharp points, as little notice of me as a caterpillar climbing up a nearby tree trunk, I know this is no delusional fantasy of mine. I’d have him focused on me. Sad that this is the only proof that I haven’t gone insane: the boy ignores me.
Somewhere along the high-velocity, hour-long drive out here, he grew silent. Brushing off my questions with one-word answers or none at all. Every time his eyes began to look warm again, he’d shake it off, resurrecting his cold and focused facade.
It’s like he’s the jaded twin brother of the man I met last night. He seems so far from the guy who jumped from a rooftop to save me from three beasts. He doesn’t even resemble the boy who convinced me to leave my half-full mocha latte sitting on a table to run away with him.
All of those things vex me to my core, but the one that stings the most is he seems to have nothing left of the smooth Casanova who danced with me, made my body glisten from his heat, and kissed me with more passion than I’ve ever felt.
The few glimmers of his past self that have broken his stone persona have come when I’ve called him by his name. In those moments, the effect was only fleeting, but they were the highlights of our hours in the woods. Simon—the name still seems so special to me—the last connection I have to the beau in my heart, a picture locket to a widow.
Can’t understand how he’s grown so cold. All of a sudden I’m repulsive to him—he becomes annoyed every time I make him acknowledge me.
Was he just drunk last night, and the infatuation’s worn off? Am I ugly to his sober eyes?
He moved too well to be that drunk. Threw stools across the dance floor and exactly onto the thugs’ backs that he was aiming for way up on the stage.
Am I such an odd girl that I was just a different flavor for him to taste? A freak to try out?
The last glow of the twilight begins to give way to the blanketing night.
I can’t take it anymore.
“Why are you ignoring me?”
Doesn’t look away from the point he is sharpening.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Still no response.
Shaking, “If you won’t talk to me about what the hell is going on, I swear I’ll walk out of these woods and leave you here to be nasty and mean all by yourself,” deep breath, “I swear it, Simon.”
Without budging his head or slowing the stroke of his nails into the branch, he says, “If you have any desire to live, I can’t leave your side.”
His voice sounds so flat—drained of emotion.
“Doesn’t sound like you’d care anyway.”
“Doesn’t matter if I care. It’s a fact. You leave—you die.”
Sniffling becomes involuntary, “Well, what if you’re killing me now?”
“I haven’t done anything to you.”
“You haven’t?”
“Don’t be dramatic. Haven’t laid a hand on you.”
“Yes, you did. Your hands were on me last night, and they protected me today.”
“Never laid a hand on you in anger. Never hurt you.”
Silence except for the faint drone of grasshoppers and my sniffling.
Giving up on getting through to him, letting my heart tear itself freely, I whisper to myself, “Yes, you did hurt me.”
He still carves. Shutting me out.
A whimper squeals out from me, pushing past the lips I try to hold tightly together.
The whittling stops. He turns and looks at me.
“How?” he asks.
“What?”
“How did I hurt you?”
Stunned, I say nothing. How could he have possibly heard me? It was barely a whisper, and he sits far away from me. Finally, I say, “You got my hopes up. Made me think you liked me—only to crush me now.”
He sighs, “I never promised you anything. Has it occurred to you that I might have nothing good to offer? That everything inside me is bad for you?”
“Isn’t it up to me what’s good for me?”
“You have no idea what’s good for you. Can’t be twenty years old yet, and you think you know what’s good for you,” he snickers—a cruel, forced chuckle with no joy in his voice.
“You promised me even though the world tries to pull us apart they won’t win.”
Looking away from me and toward the jagged spikes he’s piled up at his feet, “You shouldn’t believe everything a guy tells you in a bar.”
The exhaustion, the emotional strain, and the fear have taken their toll on me, but it’s the hurt that obliterates. Tears fall. All strength is gone.
His face is stone. Beautiful and cold. Can’t tell if his eyes are welling up like my own—tears blur my vision.
Magnificent.
Handsome.
Monster.
The saddest sound to touch my worn ears still eats at my soul two hours after it’s been silenced. I’ve heard junkies beg for a hit, promising disgusting favors, having sold all their dignity for that temporary rush. I’ve heard young widows wail at the loss of their husbands in war. I’ve even heard my own wretched cries when Eleni was taken from me.
None of them tore at me so violently as hearing her cry herself to sleep. Hunted. Endangered. Betrayed.
Maybe her cries hurt me most because I caused them. All the others were the result of tragedy. Cruel fate. Her cries were given birth by my harsh words. Her pain is my spawn. Inflicted upon her against her will.
Her sweet voice asking what she had done—assuming she had failed me in some way. It echoes in my head. Cutting deeper every time it repeats.
Her sad, green eyes on fire beneath her silky brown hair, melting from my words. Breaks my heart to think some of her sweetness may have been burned away forever. Hopefully, all of this will save what’s left of her. Even if it kills all that’s still tender in me.
She still sleeps.
Her slumber has grown deep, blanketed in the heavy peace of the moonlight filtering through the night air.
The same moonlight offers a dim illumination of her body. Staring at her closely for so long, the light seems to sparkle over every contour, especially along the slope of her neck as she lies on her side—her hands tucked sweetly under head—her hair spread out on the ground around her as beautiful as freshly-fallen, golden brown autumn leaves.
Voices scream in my head. I’ve fought them my whole life except for the past six months. Finally gave into the bloodlust and fed carefully on select girls, never damaging any of them more than leaving them a little lightheaded and lonely the next morning.
Fought it for so long. Decades. A marathon fasting that left me broken and bitter. Was strong for so many years, but not like this. Not like some psycho standing over her while she sleeps, staring at her, absorbing her beauty like a predator in the shadows, letting her dainty scent tantalize my senses and make my fangs ache.
Never had to stand guard like this. Taunting myself with an aroma I can only smell as a tease, never allowing myself to taste. It’d be one thing to shut her out, avoid her like hell, and try to keep my mind free of her body’s temptation. That would be torture enough. It’s quite another thing to have her before me, glistening in the moonlight, smelling as delicious as a fantasy, filling me with desire.
Her image is more than any pheromone. Her hot body rising and falling with each breath, throbbing with every heartbeat. She is more than a feast to a ravenous man, more than Aphrodite appearing to a shipwrecked sailor—lost and achingly alone on a deserted island.
It doesn’t help that I haven’t fed in days—it was two nights before I met Ruby when I last satisfied the craving. The healing has taxed my body—the fights have left my muscles sore. Fighting off whatever the hell they put into me with that needle has eaten away nearly everything left in me. Every part of me screams to be rejuvenated. Just a little taste would relieve so much anguish. Just a quick embrace at her neck would silence the grinding voices in my head.
She twitches in her sleep—I can see the blood pulsing under delicate human flesh like a scarlet ghost beneath a thin sheet of glorious skin. It’s like I can see another version of her just beneath the surface, shimmering and otherworldly, calling me over with a beckoning finger.
I quietly step toward her, until I can lean down and put my face the closest distance from her cheek. The temptation rages inside me. Mind races for any excuse to dive into her. It’s some insane irony that my desire for her as a person only adds to the need to taste her as a prey.
Even in sleep, she makes my body ache in agony.
I can’t take it. Losing control. Her wiles fill my mind clouding everything else. Stumble away from her—eyes closed.
Arch my back at the night sky that illuminates beyond the treetops, throw my hands to my head, and scream, “No, I won’t do it!”
Her flesh jumps. Her eyes flutter. I’m still not free.
Shut my eyes and scream again, “Never! Won’t do it!”
When I finally let my eyes open, Ruby sits, legs crossed in front of her and her arms wrapped tightly across her chest.
“Wh-what was that about?” her chin shakes as she speaks.
“Bad dream,” I say.
She looks entirely unconvinced and uncomforted.
I continue, “Forget it. Lots going on lately. Took a beating today—of course, I’m going to have bad dreams. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”
Her face looks troubled, and she squirms.
“I told you I’d be fine. Don’t worry about it and go back to sleep.”
I can see her blood pulsing through her exposed arms and neck. Every pulse of her heart makes the shape of her lovely body glow in my eyes, like she’s wiggling every part of herself before me. Her neck a hot, illuminated crescent. I slam my eyes shut, trying to shake the temptation off. Straining to block it all out of my mind.
Leaves and twigs crackle close to me.
Panic flings my eyes wide open. She’s within an arm’s reach.
“I told you to go back to sleep,” I say roughly. Correcting my tone to something softer, I add, “You need to rest after what you’ve been through. We may need to run at any time.”
“I—I, uh,” she says looking everywhere but my face.
“You need to go to sleep.”
“Okay, alright, I will,” she hesitates, “After.”
“After what?”
“After I take care of something.”
“What? We’re out in the middle of nowhere—what could you possibly have to do?”
“I—I just need to do things.”
“What things, Ruby?”
“Private things.”
“Look, I know I hurt your feelings earlier, and I’m sorry that that’s just the way it’s gotta be, but you have no idea how much danger you’re in. They could’ve followed us. Could be waiting out there—right in the darkness. Looking for the one moment that I fall asleep or let you out of my sight. You need to take this very serious—”
“Shut up! Shut up!”
Her voice is so urgent that I obey instantly.
“Personal things! Things most girls like to pretend they never do.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. You jerk. Sure know how to embarrass a girl.” She looks so wounded. So humiliated. I feel miserable.
“I—I didn’t know.”
“What’d you think? We’ve been gone for twelve hours or more, and you haven’t let me outta your sight? What’d you expect?”
“Fine,” I say a lot more harshly than intended, “Head a few trees into the woods, and I’ll turn around.”
“No way, buddy. I need my space—maybe 100 feet or so.”
“Can’t do it. Not safe.”
“Look, this is happening whether you like it or not, and you need to get a grip.” Lowering her voice softly, “God knows I wish it weren’t happening.”
I look down at my boots, shake my head, and sigh.
Squatting down in a dark forest, I try to think of all the words to “Voices Carry.” I like the song and all—loved hearing it last night, but it’s not so much a subject that enthralls me as it’s something to keep my mind from imagining bugs crawling up my legs or a snake nipping at my bare butt.
Why is it that every other girl living some kind of a romantic fantasy gets to be “La Bella Principessa,” the perfect and adored swan among gangly geese, and I’m out here crouching in the bushes just forty feet from my dream guy desperately hoping I’m far enough away from him, and the only Bella I feel like is a Béla Lugosi monster? What could be more feminine and dainty than poppin’ a squat in the middle of the woods on the first date?
I guess this would be a first date—can’t count when you meet. First date is the first time together after that. Guess he should be at least talking to me to consider this a da—
Bushes sway and rustle to my left. Something’s moving. Fast.
Tearing through the rough in a blur is Simon rushing toward the thing coming at me. I can see the eyes of the thing glowing as I fall down yanking my jeans over my hips. Its hands reach out in front of it. So fast. Nasty fingernails like claws waiting to tear into me. Just a few feet away. A foot. Inches. Simon crashes into it in a loud collision, plowing into it, continuing to drive the attacker further away from me into the wild.
Obscured in the darkness and the brush, I can see arms and legs flying. So quick, hard to make out what is coming from where and whom is getting struck by who.
The clouds shift allowing more moonlight, and I see Simon’s gray shirt stretched at the sleeves in the clutches of the pale, redheaded man standing over him.
On his knees, Simon just looks up at the other vampire, staring at him—challenging the eyes past the thin, red-bearded face. A screech cuts through the night air, emanating from the mouth of the attacker.
Simon flings his hands out of the attacker’s stomach, blood running from his fingernails. Simon pulls the man to the ground, and I can no longer see either of them.
Two of the longest minutes of my life pass—my body threatening cardiac arrest at every second of it.
Simon stands, shirtless. He flings the body of the attacker on his shoulders, back first—his stomach wound visible to me now. I see the beast breathing. In a blur, Simon runs through the trees in the direction of the road where we hid my car beneath branches and piles of pine needles.
I stare between the trees, hoping I’ll see him coming back to me. My mind plays frantic games, convincing myself I see him coming in the distance—the wind blowing a branch far off must be him returning safely—the moonlight on a tree branch must be his body peeking out the rough as it sprints back to me. Each false sighting increases my fear. The greater the fear, the more I imagine. Thoughts and fears spiral—feeding each other.
I hear the snap of twigs behind me. I can hear someone breathing heavily before I can turn around.
Shirtless, glistening in a thin layer of sweat, his heart races—pumping his veins rapidly through his muscular torso. Even the muscle lines in his stomach pulse. Girl, look up. Look at his face.
He has a small fingernail wound on his left shoulder that already has stopped bleeding and is beginning to heal.
He is drenched from head to toe—his long hair soaked and dripping. Far too wet for sweat. Did he go swimming?
Finally my words come, “Are you alright? Where did you go? You almost killed me—didn’t know if you were alright or—”
“Dead? No, not tonight.”
“Why are you wet?”
“I—uh, had to rinse off. There’s a stream not far behind us.”
Thinking back to him nabbing the attacking vampire just inches away from where I was squatting, blood rushes to my face. My stomach feels flooded with humiliation, and my chest feels like the wind has been knocked out of me.
“Are you alright?” he asks. Touching my shoulders, “I was sure I got to him before he reached you. Are you okay?”
The intensity of his voice touches me. I swore just a few hours ago to shut this jerk out of these parts of me—now he’s back in there, awakening my emotions again, making me feel so alive—so special—so aware of how badly I’ll feel if he turns on me again.
Suddenly feeling appalled, “If you weren’t supposed to be looking at me, how’d you know he was coming? Were you watching me? Did you come closer after I told you to stay put?”
“No, I stayed where you told me, but I had to watch the area around you. If I had spotted him a second later, Edgar would’ve been on you before I could stop him.”
“Edgar? You know his name? Was he a friend of yours?” I ask in a shout.
“No, no. Edgar’s no one’s friend. He’s a miserable blood junkie. More than the rest of us. Can’t be trusted with anything.”
“Then why’d you let him get away? Why’d you bring him back to the road?”
“Because I need to get some information from him tomorrow night.”
“You just said you couldn’t trust him—that he’s nobody’s friend. What makes you think he’s not going to bring all of them here right now?”
“I promised him something. He won’t say a word until he has it.”
“What did you promise him?”
“Just something that he can’t live without,” he looks into my eyes, “Trust me. You won’t see him back here tonight.”
Feeling scared. How can Simon be so sure? Something about what he said bothers me. Oh, see him back here tonight. It’s the seeing that’s bothering me.
“You shouldn’t have seen me out there tonight,” pointing back to the place where I was squatting. “I know you were trying to protect me, and thank God that you were watching because that’s when that monster came at me, but it’s just…you know…it’s… horrible…”
The crying starts. Don’t know how much more I can take. People trying to kill me. My love rejecting me coldly. The humiliation. Too much. Has to come out. Tears flow.
His voice has a soothing tone that I haven’t heard from him in hours, “Look, look, listen to me.”
He shakes my shoulders gently to try to get me to look up at him. He leans down and puts his forehead against the top of my head. Can’t bring myself to look at him. My eyes are on his defined stomach, but my thoughts are hanging on his words.
“Not to make you feel self-conscious, Ruby,” the sound of him saying my name comforts, “but I do have heightened senses—hearing and scent way beyond what you know.”
All comfort slips away from me. Humiliation is about enough to knock me down.
He continues, “You’d’ve had to walk twice as far as you did to really be away from me, and then I couldn’t have protected you.”
I feel like a seventh grader who has laughed so hard she peed her pants in front of the whole class.
He says, “Look, it’s not as bad as dying, right? If you’d have gone further away, you wouldn’t be here at all now.”
I shake my head slowly in agreement, the top of my head against his forehead, my chin against his chest.
“Hey, I’ve been this way my whole life—I’m used to it. It’s nothing new—can’t shut my senses off.”
“So, what? You’re a life-long perv? Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No,” he says, leaning down to look into my eyes, “Just trying to say there’s nothing wrong with you.”
I raise my head halfway to look back at him.
Unfair. Moonlight filters through the trees and lands on his face. He opens his lips to speak. His fangs shimmer, speaking to me before his words come.
“You…are…painfully…gorgeous.”
He steps closer—my body follows as if pulled. Hand slides over my neck. His eyes close, pulling mine shut with them. His lips press against mine. Like no other touch. Tingles shiver through my body.
His other hand finds my waist and pulls me to him. I feel his heartbeat pulsing into my chest.
The rush spreads through me, tingling everywhere, igniting feeling through my body that has been lying dormant for so long. Every second between last night and now was a terrible waste of time. The euphoria of my lips on his is just as strong as it was last night.
His tongue melts me completely. The emotion so hot—boiling through me.
He pulls back shaking his head, his eyes clenched shut.
Having trouble finding the breath to speak, I struggle to ask, “What? What is it?”
“I…I’m sorry I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have…”
The retreating of his affections and the fear on his face make me feel like my lips are the nastiest he’s ever tasted. My emotions are beyond stretched tonight.
Simon’s mouth starts to move again, “I—I—”
My voice cracks as I try to speak. I raise my hand in front of my face and say, “Save it.”
Turn and walk away from him. No tears—beyond crying this time. Anger. Hurt. Bushes and underbrush scrape at my ankles, unprotected by short socks.
“Ruby, wait.”
I walk slower, but keep walking away.
“I meant what I said,” he calls after me again.
I stop walking, but I don’t turn around, “Actions speak louder than words, Simon.”
“That’s what I’m trying to show you.”
I turn to face him, my arms flinging through the air before I speak, “Then, show me, Simon, but so help me I can’t take this up and down crap anymore. Tell me how it is, and stick to it.”
Walking toward me, he says, “You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry…I don’t know how to tell you how I feel around you—it’s like there’s this energy. Never felt anything like being around you. Your skin, your eyes, your lips. Once I saw you, there was no one else at the bar for me. No one else anywhere. When I was kissing you, I felt new again. This body’s seen decades come and go. Several generations rise and fall. Felt so old—so numb for so long. Never thought I’d feel fresh again. Free of burden. Until you. You wiped it all away—made me feel again where I’ve been long dead. Even when I was young, never felt anything like you, and I barely know you. All I wanted was to know you more. To keep that feeling going. It gets stronger every second I’m near you.”
I pull him down to me and kiss him softly on his lips. Releasing him I ask, “Then, what’s been going on with you today?”
“I almost died.”
“What’re you talking about? Just now fighting what’s-his-name, oh—Edgar?”
“No, at the school. After you left.”
“What happened?”
“Trading punches with Roderick. One of them stuck a needle in my back. Spun around before he could push the plunger down more than just a tiny bit. Grabbed the syringe from my shoulder blade and threw it as hard as I could. They didn’t just beat me down to a knee. Within a few seconds, I blacked out—it was whatever they shot into me.”
“You blacked out! Oh my God! Why didn’t they kill you then? Why’d they let you go?”
“Probably thought they got enough in me to kill me. I’d guess they ran after you. By the time they knew they lost your trail and came back for me, I was gone.”
I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze him tightly, “Oh my God, what was in it? What’d they put into you?”
“I don’t know. But if it blacked me out, it was some seriously strong sickness.”
Without letting go, I ask, “I’m so sorry to hear that happened—it’s terrible, but what does this have to do with how you’ve been acting?”
“Could’ve killed me today. If I was dead, they’d already have you.”
My arms jerk at the thought.
He softly pushes me off him to look at my face, “You can’t be with me.”
“Why not?”
“They’ll get to you. Eventually, they’ll get to you. You have to go away where they’ll never find you.”
“No,” is all I can muster.
“It happened before. Only cared for one other girl. Decades ago. Her name is—was—Eleni. I cared for her; she loved me too. She’s gone.”
“Doesn’t mean that’ll happen to me.”
“Yes, it does. Especially now. They want Ambrosia. I have no idea what she has that is so special to them, but they’ll never rest till they get it. And on top of that, I’ve embarrassed Roderick. Twice. He won’t let it go unpunished. You can’t be near me when all this happens. Can’t keep you safe forever. We need a plan to get you far away from all of this madness.”
I put my hand to his cheek, “Look, you only get one chance at life. There are no guarantees. I could live in a little bubble and maybe add a few extra years to my life, but I’d be miserable. Trust me, I’ve kept myself away from all of this for so long—staying home, never going out, being painfully shy. It was terrible.”
“But—”
“No, let me finish. It’s a dangerous business leaving your house every day. One person falling asleep at the wheel and crashing into you, and it’s all over for you—no matter how careful you are, no matter how well you plan. All you can do is only take risks for the things that make you happy. I’d rather be dead than lose that.”
“You can—you can take risks like everyone else. Having vampires trying to kill you is not like everyone else. You need a new start. Somewhere safe—a new life.”
“No, I want you, Simon.”
He smiles, but his brow still shows worry.
“If you send me away, I’m coming right back for you as soon as you turn your back on me. That’s where I’d be the most vulnerable—all alone looking for you. You don’t want that, do you?”
“No, I guess I don’t, but you’d be safe somewhere away from here if you’d just stay put.”
“Safe and dead inside—too afraid to risk for the things that would make me happy.”
His face softens, “You know this is what I want. I mean what I want for me—my own desires: I want you here. But more than all that, I want you to be safe and happy.”
“That’s why I won’t leave you now.”
Hand slides over my cheek down to my neck, blue eyes filled with passion, his lips press onto mine—his kiss overtaking me. Time seems to stand as still as the darkness of the woods. Press my body against his, trying to feel everything he’s feeling, trying to make us one.
He slowly takes his kiss away, pulling my breath away with it.
“Damn, you’re good,” slides out my mouth before my nervousness can pull it back in.
“When I let myself,” he says looking at his boots, water still dripping from the ends of his hair, running down his chest and onto his stomach.
“What took you so long?” I ask.
“Trying to save your life.”
“Multitask, my boy. Multitask.”