Page 33 of How a Vampire Falls

“In retrospect it’s kind of hilarious. All these aggressions and sensations emerging and adjusting in my body—one minute I’m chill and the next I want to break things. Or I’m accidentally breaking things because oh look, the super-strength is back, oops, that was my dollhouse gazebo. Gosh, adolescence was a lot. Anyway, all that going on and the one pet I wanted was the one that looked the meekest, most innocent, all twitching ears and nose.”

Ryker nodded, looking far away for a moment. “It was a lot.”

“Maybe all the chaos was why I wanted a little bunny rabbit. Maybe I needed her to balance things out.”

“Makes sense,” he said.

“I found out they’re not just meek and flighty. They can kick, and they can bite. Mine didn’t very often, though. Only twice the whole time I had her, and she was scared both times.”

“And you didn’t overreact?”

Leslie stared at him. What an awful thought. “Toward a helpless bunny? Of course not.”

“Some young vampires would have.”

She shook her head. “Was it like that for you?”

“No,” he said. “The only things I ever broke were accidental. Pencils, for one. A lot of pencils.”

He looked entirely serious. “And how often were you writing with a pencil?”

“My mom was old-school about math. Wanted to be sure I could solve problems on paper, show my work.” He tipped his chin upward. “But come on, what do I need to know about this foothill?”

Strange that Leslie would be equally content to perch on a boulder with him and chat for the next hour. “I figured we’d turn around here.”

“What? Why?”

“Well…because…tall height?” She gestured toward the slope that rose in front of them.

“It’s steep, not sheer. I can handle steep.”

She didn’t want to offend by doubting him, but the distinction betweensteepandsheerseemed awfully slim with a phobia involved.

“Really, it’s fine,” Ryker said. “Look, there’s nowhere to fall. There’s just running up and then running back down.”

He wasn’t wrong. Even if a human climber lost their balance, they’d be in for a roll, not a drop. Leslie would trust him to know his own phobia. “If you’re sure,” she said.

“One hundred percent.”

“In that case, how often do you get out into the mountains? I know Virginia has some, and you enjoy athletic stuff.”

“I’m more of an indoor-courses guy.”

“You mean like a gym?” Surely not.

“Yep. Designed to challenge vampires.”

“But…” No way any indoor course could rival her mountains for a challenge. She shook her head. “Okay then. Let’s see how you like climbing the real thing.”

“Let’s do it.”

Then he was gone, darting up the slope in what humans called a “blur” but was, to Leslie’s eyes, a perfectly clear line of movement. She kept her eye on him and shot after him. The terrain grew steeper, but they didn’t need handholds. They kept running, leaping over boulders and fallen trees, and Leslie relished the feeling of gliding through the air like a low-skimming hawk. Her feet barely touched the soil. Her hair whipped out behind her. The wind rushed against her teeth as she grinned.

For an hour they never slowed their pace. Up, up, up they continued until they emerged from the dense foliage onto the plateau at the top of the long hill. This ground too held a thick forest. Several hundred feet away, a few startled deer fled down a narrow trail. Ryker slid to a halt and turned to Leslie. His nostrils flared, and his eyes glittered blue and silver. He was wholly himself away from the possibility of contact with humans, wholly vampire and wholly Ryker.

He was beautiful.

“The smells are amazing,” he said, and the unfurled melody of his voice brought an answering song to her heart.

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