Page 59 of Daring Her Vampires
I lift my arm and she tucks herself close, her cheek to my chest.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Why?” She tips her head back.
“Allie messaged me, and I couldn’t shut my thoughts off,” I say.
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah. She’s with Roxanne.”
“Good. She’s in excellent hands.”
“Have you known her a long time?”
“No. We met a few months ago when Kingston and Maverick mated Saphira. We clicked.”
“You seem to click with all of them.”
“I’m closer to some than others.”
“I talked to Shade.”
“How is he?”
“Do you know him?”
“Not really.” She looks away and out the window. “I’ve heard about him.”
“He seems to know all of you.”
“Are you friends?” she asks.
“I thought so.” I chuckle and follow her gaze. “The more I learn, I realize I don’t know much about him.”
“You don’t have to.” She wraps her arms around my waist, leaning further into me. “The details don’t matter much; it’s the feeling in your gut.”
“I suppose.”
“I love this window. It’s the main reason I moved in.”
“Really? Why?”
“I love people,” she sighs. “I’ve craved a connection with them. When I didn’t have anyone, I made up friends. After I moved here, I didn’t know the family well. I could stand here and pretend I was involved with the ones buzzing around town. It’s always busy and exciting.”
“We are more alike than I thought. Every place we stayed had to have windows. I’ve spent hours observing people. I was human, but I hardly remember what it felt like to be one. Did I feel small and fragile?” I pull her closer, resting my hands above her ass.
“Is that how you see them?”
“Yes. As the years pass, more and more each day. That is how I felt right after I was turned. Fragile. Small. I had a difficult time adjusting. I hated it. I hated being a vampire. How could I like being something that killed my mom? I was a creature with the ability to kill with a flick of my wrist. I thought I should despise it, that Mom would be so disappointed with me,” I confess.
“Atlas, no.”
“I’ve always taken care of my siblings, and I allowed them to be the thing that caused her death.” I clear my throat. “She wouldn’t be able to understand how I could let that happen.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she says.
“Maybe not, but it felt like it.” I exhale harshly. “She was a delicate woman, and I took her for granted. Dad’s personality was huge, both good and bad. She faded into the background. I don’t have memories like the one Luca shared. We didn’t have late-night talks, and I didn’t watch her garden. We existed in the same house, yet couldn’t relate to each other. My guilt over her death has never gone away. I wish we would have had moments together. I tried to look out for Allie and Luca, fend off my dad, and find time to be a kid. When she died, I thought,was she grateful that Dad was dead? Did he die first?
