Page 8 of How to Dump a Vampire

I take another warm bite, savoring the brief companionship before our paths diverge. The bread tastes bittersweet on my tongue.

I clear my throat and keep my tone casual. “This storm should break soon. If we’re lucky, by midmorning, you can gather supplies and be on your way again.”

He stills. “You are so eager to be rid of me?”

There’s no masking the note of hurt in his voice. Against my will, guilt pricks.

I set down my spoon and face him. “It’s not that I don’t… appreciate you as a guest,” I say carefully, “but you have your own path, as I have mine. It is not wise to overstay a welcome.”

His expression turns contemplative. “And if fate intended our paths to now merge?” He leans forward. “Would you still force me to leave?”

My throat tightens. Is he feeling it? I thought the bread would work.

I stand and begin clearing dishes with finality. “Fate rarely considers individual will, and it’s often wrong. Get some rest. You’ve a long road ahead come dawn.”

I don’t need to glance back to feel his stare. Holding in a sigh, I make a show of preparing for sleep, moving about to extinguish candles and bank the fire. The cottage descends into shadow, only the dim orange embers casting a faint glow.

Draven stands, hands clenched at his sides. I avoid his gaze, heart heavy with regret. This long night isnearly through. With the rising sun, two strangers will finally part ways, memories of their encounter fading until they are once again nothing.

It is better this way.

4

Draven

Iawake with a start, the echoes of some half-remembered dream still clinging to my mind. As I blink sleep from my eyes, the cottage remains still and quiet. The fire has died down to faintly glowing embers in the hearth, and a shiver runs down my spine.

What roused me? I sit up slowly on the lumpy pile of blankets, senses straining for anything amiss.

There. A faint creak of floorboards.

I turn to find Thorn standing over me, gazing down with eyes closed in slumber. She sways gently in her long white night shift, raven hair spilling loose over her shoulders. Her feet are bare, her expression serene yet troubled.

“Thorn?” I ask softly.

She does not stir or respond, locked in some somnambulant trance. Odd that she would rise from her bed and wander over here while still deep in dreams.

I eye her warily.

Thorn reaches out slowly, seeking. Before I can react, she kneels, her warm palm coming to rest along the edge of my jaw. My breath catches at the contact as she begins to gently trace the line of my face. I should stop this and guide her back to bed. Instead, paralyzed by her touch, I find myself leaning into her hand. When has anyone last touched me with such tenderness? It’s almost like I can feel a hum from her touch.

Her fingertips brush my lips, sending a tremor through my entire body. Gods, what am I doing? I close my eyes, losing myself to sensations long forgotten…

My trance breaks when Thorn sways forward, her knees tangling up in the blankets on the floor. Still asleep, she tilts toward me, features serene yet imploring. The rational part of my mind screams she is senseless and unaware, but base hunger surges up, and I find myself wishing to accept what this dream tryst offers.

Clenching my fists, I slip from the blankets and stand swiftly moving away from her. Thorn frowns, fingers grasping where I’d been as if searching for lost contact. The sight spears my heart with hot guilt and longing in equal measure. I’m better than this.

As gently as possible, I grasp her shoulders and turn her about, guiding her back toward her own bed. She follows without resistance, but her head twists to keep her sightless gaze on me over one shoulder.

The shy hope inscribed on her face proves my undoing. I pause, lifting one hand to cup her cheek. She nuzzles into my palm, and I thrill at the softness of her skin and the warmth of her sigh against my wrist…

You fool,I chide myself. She is not awake, not aware.

With a pang of regret, I withdraw my touch and firmly steer Thorn the last few steps.

Once she is safely bundled back in her bed, I pull up her quilt and smooth the covers over her shoulder. Let her wake believing this midnight encounter merely a forgotten dream.

I leave Thorn tucked safely in her bed and make my way back across the cottage, each step weighed down by restless thoughts. Sleep will not come easily after that strange encounter.

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