Page 78 of A Bond with the Dark

“I want to know your story. The whole story.”

He takes a deep breath as though borrowing the strength from the air, embracing the tale he’s about to tell.

23

VAMPIRES ARE SEXY

SAYAH

Although the past several minutes have been unreal and blurry, as though I’m living in a dream state, I’m now fascinated with this man and his story, determined to know everything.

Vampires exist. One is sitting in my living room.

And I have fucked him.

I have to know everything about him now.

“So, how old are you, really?” I ask as we sit on the couch, drinking my non-alcoholic wine from swirling blue glasses.

“Two hundred and eighty-six. I was born in 1737 and made a Vampire in 1773. I celebrated my fortieth with a beer during the American Revolution.” He grins as though he’s making it up. Still, I know that he’s telling the truth.

“And you were born in Italy?”

“Yes.” He smiles, taking a sip of his wine. “I was raised in Florence with my two sisters and two brothers.”

“And how? How did you come to be a vampire?”

Dom rearranges his legs to face me better, setting the wine glass on the white-washed barn-door coffee table. “My mom is a powerful witch. She had lost a few kids before my oldest brother was born, so when she became pregnant with him, she put a spell on him, thinking it would protect him in the womb. When he survived, she did the same for all of us kids, and each one of us was born with this spell in us.

“We were all at Ollie’s bedside when he died at twenty-nine, leaning over him, crying. He was still maybe ten seconds, then he gasped, shot up, and grabbed Hattie by her neck. His eyes were white, those long pointy teeth coming out of him, almost killing my sister; blood was fucking everywhere. We hadn’t ever heard of vampires. We didn’t know what the fuck this was. He would’ve killed Hattie if my dad hadn’t socked him in his face, knocking him out. When he came to, his eyes were normal, his skin was peach again after being gray from being sick for so long, and the broken nose from my dad—healed. Then he started walking around,” he says, animating his arms around with the story. “Like nothing had ever happened. We were baffled.”

“So what did you do?” I ask, leaning in, picturing the first one of them turning for the first time and thinking how scary that would be.

“We didn’t know what to do! My mom felt it had something to do with her spell, so she returned to that shaman. He told her what was to be our protection in birth made us immortal in death. The shaman had heard of creatures like us. He said that because the spell was done with blood and the moon, those became our slavers. But that didn’t sink into my mom until Ollie went outside in the middle of the day and nearly burned to death. We got the fire out in time before it left any real bad scars, but you can still see them on his arms, legs, and stomach. Stark reminders of why we can’t go into the sun.”

“I can’t imagine being without the sun.” I tilt my head, trying to imagine a life in the dark. It bristles me to no end. I feel so bad that Dom can’t go in the sun.

“Who cares about eternal life if you have to live in darkness for the rest of eternity?” he responds solemnly. The way his posture crumbles, his eyes glisten, and his mouth turns down lets me know he misses the sun as much as one would miss the rain if they couldn’t have it anymore. “Scarlet has tried a few things over the years, trying to spell amulets and talismans to try and help us meet the light again. Nothing’s ever worked.”

“No? What happened.”

He rolls his sleeve and points to the swirly and beautiful skin under his ink. “Got burned real bad. It’s not fun. You burn from within. Then it bubbles up into flames if you stay in it too long.”

“Holy fuck. That’s awful.”

His face is reflective like he is reminiscing on the last time he tried entering sunlight.

“What’s it like to be a vampire? You said you don’t like killing, so do you eat animal blood like in Twilight?”

“You know, I’ve never seen that movie.” He chuckles, the slight wrinkles on the side of his eyes scrunching together. “I heard they sparkle, and I couldn’t handle that.”

The image of this handsome man in front of me glittering in the sunlight is enough to cause me to laugh out loud. “Same,” I reply, setting my fake wine down as I shovel my feet under me on the couch, hugging a pillow.

“But to answer your question, yes and no. It isn’t sustaining, so it’s like eating a few grapes for you. Human blood is satisfying and filling; we don’t have to kill to get fed. The only time I kill, it’s people like those guys in Vegas. I choose the bad ones, those who don’t deserve to live. Other times, I get by with animal blood or feeding on someone enough to sustain me. Then I veilweave them to forget, and it's as though they never met me.”

“Veilweave? What’s that?”

“We have magick in our voices that enchant people to do what we say. They can’t refuse; they are spellbound.”

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