Page 12 of To Save a Vampire
It’s that simple.
How have I never noticed how attractive he is? Were the others equally as handsome? I guess I’ve stopped thinking of him as a creature and more of an actual person. I almost want to be here with him, helping him. Saving him …
I can’t help but notice how flawlessly made he is. His dark hair is thick and his eyes, though they are closed now, capture light beautifully, like his eyes absorb the light and hold it captive within his mind. His jaw line is carved, hiding his lethalness in just another beautiful feature. My eyes trace his defined biceps and stray back down to the muscle of his chest and abdomen. And then he tilts his head slowly my way and opens his eyes.
Heat flames my face when he smirks knowingly. I turn my head away toward the cool water, even though it’s not enough to take away the warm embarrassment in my cheeks.
“Fallon, you should rest before nightfall. It’s a long trip,” my mother says, appearing at my side and handing me a blanket that matches the ones on the floor.
Her face is lined with worry. Everything is normally so easy between us. And now it’s not. She stares down at me, waiting for a reply with tired eyes. I wonder if she stayed up all night planning today. I wonder if she has stayed up for weeks planning today, while I was oblivious the entire time. I don’t ask or reply, and she sighs quietly before walking toward the fire and making her own pallet side by side with Ky.
I continue to sit by the edge as droplets of water collect near my black boots. My head’s heavy against my arms, and I shift to try to find comfort on the hard ground. After about half an hour, Forty-four gets up from his blanket and walks toward me. I tilt my head just an inch to look up at him, his height making me tip my head back even farther to meet his eyes. He picks up my discarded blanket from the ground and takes my hand, pulling me into a standing position.
His forwardness makes my movements stiff and awkward, but I let him guide me to the fire, hand in hand. He points at his pallet and gestures for me to take his place.
I shake my head no, but he pulls me onto the blanket and waits for me to sit. My eyes stray to my mother’s sleeping face, illuminated by the dwindling firelight. I turn back to him, glaring at him defiantly, and he stares impatiently right back at me. I wonder why he’s being so nice to me. I can tell it’s forced. Each time he’s touches me his hands are like a ghost’s, lightly making contact—contact that is hesitant and well thought out.
“I’m fine,” I say quietly, afraid to wake my mother or Ky.
I turn and take one step off the blanket, but he moves in front of me and it’s clear he’s going to win. He’s probably had hundreds of years to practice his patience.
“I’ll sleep over there. I’m fine,” I repeat, tilting my chin up with authority.
He nods his head and steps aside.
I guess I can be intimidating when I stand my ground. I smugly walk past him, my footsteps echoing steadily through the cave. I only make it a few feet before my legs pull out from under me. Forty-four picks me up and throws me over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.
Very unintimidating potatoes.
I suck in an astonished breath and push against him to try to get down as quietly as possible, but it’s no use. He releases me onto the floor where I flail a little ungracefully, still attempting to get down. I land with a hard thud onto my butt. I manage to glare up at him because it’s really the most aggressive thing I can do in retaliation at the moment without shouting my anger at him and waking everyone up around us.
The corner of his mouth lifts with an arrogant smile. I sit on my blanket, refusing to lie down. A strain pulls at my spine, my impeccable posture all I have left of my stubbornness. Forty-four ignores my glare as he picks up my discarded blanket and lays it neatly at my side. He straightens the edges before lying down next to me and closing his eyes like nothing ever happened. Like my childish glare isn’t hurting him at all.
My body stiffens and my lungs become unsure of themselves. Now I really won’t sleep. If I couldn’t sleep with all the events of the day and unanswered questions rushing through my head, I definitely won’t sleep with a gorgeous pike—hybrid—resting only inches from me. I’ll be self-conscious even in my sleep. I also can’t help contemplating my revenge on said gorgeous hybrid. I slowly lie down, hyper aware of my every breath.Do I snore?
None of this bothers him. He rests with his hands behind his head as his eyes gently close. His arms are off his blanket and his elbow is brushing against my hair, turning me to stone where I lie. Unsteady breaths fill my lungs, and I can’t move my tense arms from my sides out of fear I might accidently brush his arm that invades my blanket space.
I lie there trying not to assess every inch of him as I carefully tilt my head to casually get a better view. While I’m failing at not looking at the corded muscle of his bicep, his right eye peeks open and catches me again for the second time in an hour.
Immediately, I turn away from him, facing the fire. I’m uncomfortable on the itchy blanket and hard ground and wonder if he’s watching me. Should I be afraid? Strangely I’m not, though part of me knows I should be. I watch the fire and try not to think. I try to keep from dissecting the day’s events and eventually sleep does come and I dream.
My dreams are filled with textbook drawings of vampires clawing their way over towering brick walls. Although true vampires are a thing of the past and have not been sighted in several decades, the cryptic drawings of snarling pale beasts with red eyes fill my mind and come to life. They fall over the wall into society one by one, piling up until there is an army stampeding through the dusty streets of my camp. I hide behind my mother. I’m only an image of my youth. A tiny girl with big green eyes, eyes that hold fear of the unknown.
I find protection behind my mother and comfort from her hand resting on my thick hair. I cling to her arm, peering out from behind her legs as the monsters draw closer and closer. Once they are only a few yards away, my mother raises her palm slowly and signals for them to halt.
The rushing crowd of ancient, decaying beasts stops instantly, obeying her like a servant to a master. Their red eyes are eager, hungrily watching us.
Just as I close my eyes in relief, my mother’s hand moves from my head to my arm. She picks me up, and I cling closer to her, trying to find comfort from her warmth. She smiles softly at me, making me forget my fears, forget the monsters, before tossing me into the mass of vampires. Their claw-like hands draw me in and rake down my skin.
I wake with a shudder, breathing hard. Sweat drips down my neck from the heat of the fire behind me.
The rumors of the few remaining vampires hiding within the Red Hills circle my mind. With eyes wide open, I recall the whispered stories of the monsters who haven’t been seen in decades, but could still be living in the shadows of our world …
Soft fabric is bunched tightly between my fingers and a comfortable yet firm surface is under my head. The most calming feeling laces through my mind as I snuggle deeper into my pillow. My very hard, hard pillow.
Every muscle in my body tenses. It takes me only a few seconds to realize I’m tangled around Forty-four. My head rests on his arm with my hand fisted in his now crumbled shirt against his chest, while my right leg is clinging against his physique. I’m like a boa constrictor that doesn’t fully remember how to kill its prey.
He’s awake. And watching me. His hands are still folded behind his head, not touching me. He watches my every move. Rigid, tense muscle lies beneath my fingertips, as if he’s uncomfortable in our odd situation.
