Page 12 of Blood Lust

His hair is thick, a little on the long side, and a deep dark brown. It suits his face. Oh God, his face is divine. With high cheekbones and a strong jaw, the angles and planes make him look like an ancient warrior. His eyes are a piercing blue, seeming to penetrate through me. I gulp. He resembles the figure I pictured. He is lean but toned and takes up a fair portion of the doorway. Six-foot something of deliciousness.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” the man says, his voice is deep and gravelly. He steps in and shuts the door behind him. He stands before me, studying me, my neck craning up to look at him. Smiling, he crouches to peer into my eyes. I could get lost in those eyes of his. Two pools of crystalline blue, ready to devour me and my secrets. “How do you feel?”

I ponder the question— I feel fantastic. I flex my muscles, stretching my legs and toes. I reach up to the sky and stretch out my back. There is no pain. I can’t see any visible marks from glass or debris. How long have I been asleep?

“I feel amazing.”

He reaches for my face, gently pressing his palm to my cheek and stroking me with his thumb. I could sink into his touch if it were possible. Warm and inviting, I just wanted him to touch me more. “Are you thirsty?” His voice is strange. It carries a certain weight to it. Right when he mentions it, though, a sudden dryness filled my throat.

“Parched.” I almost whisper, my hand clutching the base of my throat.

The man nods and walks to the dresser. A cup sits there, and I have no idea if it had been there for a while or if he brought it with him. I was too busy examining his features instead of looking at his hands. At my side again, he passes the cup to me. It is warm in my hands. I can’t see what it is, the cup has a lid and straw. Ever so carefully, I sip the warm liquid, not wanting to burn my tongue.

I don’t have a comparison for the drink as it hits my mouth. It tastes so pure, so delicious, like heaven. It is warm and thick, and I am gifted flashes of the lakeside. Still, I drink deeply, not stopping until I hear a loud slurping sound coming from the cup. This man, my savior, chuckles and takes the cup from me, setting it aside. “Better?” I nod, and he kneels before me. He places his hands on the bed, one on either side of me, caging me in. Attraction shoots through me to my center, and my nerves flare alive. He is so close, closer than a stranger usually would be. I can smell lemon grass and iron. Is he really mine?

Images played in my head—a man with a friendly face and graying beard. A woman with smile lines on her face, grinning, laughing. Children. So many, too many. A man with a brooding gaze and a tense jaw. Each of these images filled me with emotion. Until the end, that emotion was warm and happy. The last one felt like a punch to the gut. I shake my head. I don’t want to think about that one. Is this my family?

My fingers rise to my temple again. I know I hit my head hard. Did that take it all away? Every memory before the accident is just gone.

“I’m Oz,” his voice soft and smile warm, welcoming. “I pulled you from the lake and brought you to my home.”

Oz.

Sparkling red shoes. Singing. Dancing.

Then the flashes were gone as fast as they’d arrived.

Not mine.

Disappointment washes over me. If Oz is introducing himself, then he can’t belong to me. I had so hoped he could fill in the blanks of what happened. I raise my eyes to meet his, “I don’t know who I am.” Tears spring to my eyes with my admission.

Immediately, his smile falls, and he cups my face in his hands. The skin of his palms is rough and calloused, but his grip is gentle. Eyes searching mine, he is looking for answers I don’t have. “You don’t remember?”

I can’t stop the tears that escape. “No. I remember being in the car, in the water, and you. You saved me?”

Nodding, he uses his thumb to wipe away my tears. “I know little about you, but I know your name. You’re Wren.” He gestures to a bag sitting on the side table. “I have your bag as well.”

It sounds foreign to me.

Wren.

A little brown bird dances into my mind before taking flight.

I can feel my brow furrow. The harder I try to remember anything, the further away it gets. “Thank you for saving me.”

Oz smiles at me, but this time it is different like he is masking a kind of sadness behind it. “You’re very welcome, Wren.” I like the way my name sounds coming from his mouth. It’s the only thing that makes it feel remotely familiar. “Do you remember what happened when I pulled you from the water?”

I frown, trying to conjure the memory again. “I remember you… kissed my neck? And then… then I drank something warm, like what I just drank but different. Not tasty.” I am confused. Why would he be kissing my neck? My hand goes up to it, touching the spot where his mouth had been. He reaches his hand out and places it on mine.

“It wasn’t a kiss, Wren. I bit you and took your blood.” He maintains eye contact with me. I am lost in his gaze and can’t look away. Somehow, as crazed as it sounds, I know what he’s telling me is the truth. “You drank my blood in return. That’s how I was able to save you. You were dying, Wren, so I changed you to be like me. I made you a vampire.”

I manage to snap out of it and a peal of laughter escapes me. “A vampire? That’s ridiculous!” I dismiss his words, turning to look around the rest of the room.

Oz grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. While his grip was rough, his voice was smooth and calm. “No, Wren. It’s the truth. I turned you, and now you’re like me.”

The honesty of his words crashes into me hard.

What happened on the bank is clearer now. I remember him drinking from me, feeling myself growing weaker and weaker. I remember him pressing his wrist to my mouth. I remember resisting until I was too tired to fight it, until I accepted what was happening.

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