Page 23 of Evil Hearts

Juli looks up at me, and her eyes widen. “Is that true? Or are you teasing me again?”

I let out a bark of laughter. “I’m teasing, of course. But there are stories. Loads of ’em. Never been there myself, though.”

“Why not?” she asks. It’s an innocent question, but she stares up at me with those big, round eyes of hers again. It’s enough to make a grown man forget to breathe. If one still did that, of course.

“Because I don’t travel much anymore. I’m happy here,” I say, and clasp my hands behind my neck. “Warts and all.”

Juli tilts her head. I love it when she does that. It makes her look like a curious puppy. “Are you, though?”

I frown. “What?”

“Happy?”

A moment passes, and a cool breeze blows between us. Sure, we could get into it, about how I used to love wandering around with no goal or destination in mind. Headed up Scotland and bummed around for a bit. Then Ireland. Now here, on the island of Mystilla. Didn’t even know this place existed until Iheard a couple of vamps talking about it in a pub in Dublin. An island full of monsters, witches, vampires, you name it. And the humans were completely unaware of them. Yeah, I thought. That was the place for me.

Turns out, though, only one of those things was correct. Humans know about us. Well, some of us. Unfortunately for the vampires, we’ll always have targets on our backs while the shifters, weres, and other monsters get to fly under the radar. Not fair, really. But nothing ever is for us.

I kick a few pebbles off the toe of my boot and sigh. “Yeah, I guess so. Although, if I had the means, maybe I’d travel the world. Also, if I had someone to travel with. Don’t want to go alone, you know?” I look down at Juli, and she meets my gaze.

She smiles, and I notice the tips of her gleaming white fangs sparkling in the moonlight. “Maybe I could go with you when the time comes.”

“I would like that,” I say.

Our hands touch, briefly at first. A whisper of sensation. And then I lace my fingers with hers. This feels … right. It feels good, standing here with her like this, holding her hand. Looking down at her face and seeing her lips curl into the first genuine smile I’ve seen on her, I know she feels the same.

That morning, before the sun rises, Juliette and I return to the salon. Giddy and drunk off the connection bubbling between us, I decide to do something stupid. Like, really stupid. The second I descend the final rung of the ladder to return to the sewers, I pull Juliette into my arms and crush her against my chest.

“W-What—” she murmurs against my leather jacket. “What are you doing?”

I rest my chin on top of her head and let out a deep sigh, wishing I could drink in her scent right now. “Hugging you. I know it’s a foreign concept to you, but people do this to show their affection sometimes.”

When I release the tension in my grip, Juliette looks up at me and blinks. “Affection…”

I lick my bottom lip and avert my gaze, suddenly feeling stripped naked in front of her. When was the last time I was so vulnerable in front of another person? Like, never. Maybe back when I was a kid, with snot and tears running down my face. My father beat those feelings out of me real quick. And then after that, I didn’t show much of anything to anybody. Not even girlfriends. Oh, especially not my girlfriends. They were after a quick fuck and backstage passes to the shows I worked security for. If I even tried whining to them about my problems, their eyes would glaze over. Mostly they were too high to notice I even had feelings in the first place.

But Juliette doesn’t seem to want anything from me. And that’s terrifying. How do you give someone something when they don’t wantanything? I swallow thickly.

“Yeah,” I rasp. “I wanted to hug you, so I did. Is that okay? I’m sorry … maybe I misread the situation.”

“You didn’t,” Juliette adds quickly. “I enjoyed it. I have not been hugged in centuries, though. I forgot what it felt like.”

That makes sense. I probably startled her. “Sorry if I scared you,” I say. “It wasn’t my intent.”

“I know. And you didn’t. Just confused me, I suppose,” she murmurs.

Use your damn words, Scotty.My mother’s stern words wash over me in a distant memory. Use your damn words. I hold her tighter and place a tender kiss on her forehead.

“I would like to do more than hug you,” I rasp.

Juliette tilts her face toward mine, and her eyes move to my lips. I look at hers, which are mottled purple and blue and chapped from the wind. I lean down and press my lips to hers.

If I were human, my heart would be racing. Blood would be throbbing in my head, making me dizzy. But I feel none of that.Instead, I have perfect clarity. No hormones to commandeer my sense of judgement. When I kiss Juliette, it’s with purpose, and each flick of my tongue against hers is precise.

I want to make her feel good, and I want her to know that. When I pull away from her mouth, she lets out a small whimper of protest that forces a grin on my face.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “There will be plenty more where that came from. But … Juli.” I slip my fingers under her chin and lift her gaze to meet mine. Her beautiful, crimson eyes are startling, like they could pin me against the wall like a stake. I’d gladly bleed out if it meant keeping those eyes on me. “I want to please you.”

Juliette snickers lightly, and it’s a beautiful sound. Like music. Or a poem. Not that I know much about poetry, of course. “You already please me, Scotty.”

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