Page 10 of Hot Blooded

Amos blinked, surprised by her awareness. “Yes. And the draft, by a few months.”

Tessa leaned back, fixing him with a speculative look. “I know you’re an undead immortal, but it’s really just hitting me now how old you are.”

He managed not to wince. “In the grand scheme of my kind, I’m considered relatively young.”

A little chuckle escaped her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you old. I’m thirty-three and I feel ancient.”

It was Amos’s turn to laugh. “You?”

“I know it’s silly. I think I’m just so conscious of my age because I’m so behind where I’m supposed to be.”

Amos frowned. “‘Behind’?”

“Not married. No kids. Living with my—” she bit off the last words, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.

Living with her parents, he guessed. He didn’t say anything. It obviously embarrassed her.

“So, what about you?” Tessa asked, staring fixedly at her energy bar. “Forty-two when you were turned? You probably had a family.”

He tried to bring those memories to the forefront, but as always, they were murky and indistinct. He could dredge up vague impressions of a soft smile, curling blonde hair, a fondness for baking. With each passing day, they faded more and more.

“I was married,” he said, the words coming slowly as he parsed through those faint remembrances. “But I was a widower by the time I was turned. She had passed a few years before. Tuberculosis.” He paused, willing the memories to sharpen, but they wouldn’t. “We never had children. Not sure if it was me or her who couldn’t. Maybe it was both of us. In those days, there was no way of knowing. You just accepted that it wasn’t in the cards and got on with life.”

“Do you miss her?” Tessa asked gently.

He hesitated again. How could you miss someone you couldn’t clearly remember? It felt awful to admit it. But he didn’t want to lie, so he told her the truth. “My memories of her are fuzzy. I can recall facts, but that’s it really. Her maiden name was Beatrice Lundgren. We were married at St. Paul’s over on La Salle. She… she loved raspberries? Or was it strawberries?” His words were flat. He felt hollow for how little the recitation of facts affected him.

There was a gentle touch on his knee. Tessa had reached out to him, her eyes soft with sympathy. “It’s okay, Amos. It was a long time ago.”

Such a long time. More than three of Tessa’s lifetimes.

“I feel guilty for not…” He couldn’t say the words—not missing her. He had a faint impression of himself as a mortal man, recently widowed, and deeply in despair over it. But the despair didn’t touch him now. It was like he was looking at somebody else’s life. Much of his mortal life was like that. He couldn’t remember his parents’ names, or his siblings. He couldn’t remember the house he grew up in or the name of the factory where he’d worked most of his adult life. He’d lost so many people. It should affect him. He should feel sad. But all he really felt was faintly nostalgic.

Tessa shifted closer to him, leaning her shoulder against his. “I see a lot of grieving families in my work. For a lot of them, when their loved one finally passes, there are no tears. They knew death was coming—sometimes they knew it for a long time—and they went through their grieving while their loved one was still alive. They’re not bad people for moving past their grief. And you aren’t either.”

Her words soothed a raw part of his soul. He wanted to take her into his arms again, just to hold her. Just to absorb the comfort of her presence. A gentle silence settled between them, comfortable and thoughtful.

“Can I ask you another nosy question?” Tessa asked after a moment.

“You can if you actually eat that energy bar instead of picking at it,” Amos said.

Tessa smiled and rolled her eyes, but she took a big bite of the energy bar. “Happy?” she asked with a full mouth.

“Ecstatic. What’s your question?”

“How were you turned?”

“Ah, that.” Amos reached for a bottle of juice and twisted it open for Tessa. He held it while she finished her energy bar. “It’s not a terribly exciting story. I was attacked by a young vampire who lost control while feeding from me. She drained me far enough to kill me, and then her venom resurrected me.”

“It was an attack?” Tessa stared at him, appalled.

“Yes. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought you made some sort of arrangement with a vampire. Like, a consensual, planned transition.”

Amos laughed. “No. That happens, though it’s rare. Most of us are turned by young, inexperienced vampires who accidentally turn their supper into an eternal obligation.”

Tessa tilted her head questioningly. “Obligation?”

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