Page 33 of Thirsty
No. That was a dangerous line of thought.
“Come on,” Charlie was saying. “If life were a giant Coca-Cola custom drink machine at a druid-assisted vampire party, you’d pick—”
“Nothing,” Lorenzo snapped. “I’d want—”
He glanced over at Charlie, and then couldn’t help but hold his eyes as he said, “I would want to taste your blood just as it is.” He swallowed. “If it were me.”
“Okay,” Charlie breathed.
Chapter 9
Saturday night Charlie was once again trekking with Lorenzo through the woods. There was a path, but it was faint, narrow, and entirely absent in spots, and it was treacherous whenever it turned steeply downhill. “If we keep meeting people like this,” Charlie said, huffing slightly, “I’m gonna need some DEET.”
Per usual, Lorenzo ignored him.
“Y’know, bug spray?” he said.
“Bugs do not bite me,” Lorenzo said. In the darkness under the trees, Charlie could barely make out his expression. “My flesh is cold and repellent to them. One of the perks of being undead.”
“Hmm,” Charlie said, brushing aside more branches and trying his best to get a glimpse of Lorenzo’s skin. Judging from the letters he kept getting from humans who were sleeping with vampires, he doubtedrepellentwas an accurate word. Cool, maybe. He wouldn’t know.
“You know, you don’t usually talk about the perks of being a vampire,” he told Lorenzo.
Silence again. “Hm,” Charlie said. “I’ll take it from your brooding silence that you really resent being incredibly strong and impervious to injury and disease.”
“But not to being badgered by questions from graduate students,” Lorenzo said.
Charlie beamed at him, and this time he could see that Lorenzo was smiling a little in return. Not for the first time, he thought about how strange it was that he’d barely remembered Lorenzo when they ran into each other at the coffee shop—that his memory of him from five years ago was so dim. All he could recall of that time was Lorenzo, Olivia’s kind of strange, off-putting boyfriend.
But this Lorenzo could be nudged into smiling if Charlie told the right joke. He handed out tiny morsels of information about being a vampire like each one was precious, but he wasn’t too stuffy to make fun of himself. He’d been standoffish at first, sure, but even though he put up a good front at being dragged along into Charlie’s world, he was well aware that Lorenzo could have just blown him off after the whole driver’s license thing—or even after they’d first reconnected. But he hadn’t. He was holding up his end of the deal.
Not that it’d been easy to get him to agree to this particular mission. Werewolves were by far the most prolific supernatural creatures, and the Crone got hundreds of letters about them. Readers were curious about complicated pack dynamics, safety around the full moon, and, of course, the ever-present question of what counted as bestiality.
And he needed to learn more, because the column was—amazingly—still doing well. Somehow all of his supernatural-themed posts had been putting up great numbers. He wasn’t sure whether to be grateful, excited, or fearful that it would allget snatched away. Ava was smug as hell, thinking they’d finally cracked the secret code—that focusing on the paranormal had been the key to the Crone’s success all along.
Charlie wasn’t so sure. Meeting all of these people had definitely been interesting, but he thought it was more than that. He’d just been feeling...inspired, lately.
Lorenzo brushed a branch out of his way, muttering something irritated under his breath. He seemed most at ease when he could complain about something; when Charlie had asked him for a proper introduction to a werewolf pack, he’d turned him down flat, claiming they were touchy and insular, and that Charlie hadn’t done himself any favors by crashing the werewolf prom (which he wasn’t supposed to call werewolf prom).
But Charlie had begged and wheedled, and joked and pestered and flirted, and eventually Lorenzo had arranged this outing. He hadn’t let Charlie down yet.
He had been a little vague on who exactly they’d be meeting. Charlie snuck a quick glance up at the moon, but it was barely more than half-full. He shook off any nerves and plowed ahead behind Lorenzo as they scaled a particularly steep crag.
Finally they emerged from the woods and spotted a cabin with what looked like camping equipment spread out around it—firepits, tents, and more. But no one else was there. “So—where are your friends?” Charlie asked.
“I told them we were coming tonight,” Lorenzo said mildly. “And they’re nearby.”
“How can you tell?”
“I can hear them,” Lorenzo said. “And smell them.”
“You cansmellthem?” Charlie asked.
That was when he heard a twig snap. “Hey,” Charlie said. “About that thing you said, about the wolves being mad at me—”
A growl sounded from across the clearing, and he grabbed Lorenzo’s sleeve, entirely too spooked to be able to appreciate the firm bicep underneath. Then a wolf appeared between the trees, with another just behind. So much for the half-full moon.
Two more wolves emerged to his left as Charlie tried not to panic. “Uh,” he said, inching closer to Lorenzo.
