Page 60 of The Royal Street Witch
“I don’t care if it hurts,” he says. Eyes still on mine, jaw clenched so tight. And I can’t fathom it, not caring if something hurts. I’ve tucked pain down so deeply, pushed it so far, that at times, I can forget it’s there. Growing up, knowing I was unwanted, feeling like I was a nuisance, has caused me more pain than I can verbally admit. It hurt and I still care.
“Look,” he says pointing to the light rising from the ocean. “For decades, I’ve only seen it in darkness, tried to remember, imagining what it looked like. And now, here it is.” His chin quivers, and then mine does. I extinguish the fire in front of us so there’s nothing between us but sand, ocean, and sun.
Something glistens on his face, and I sit up and run a finger across his cheek. The wetness between my fingers causes my breath to halt. Real, clear, salty tears sit in his eyes, more evidence the potion gives him human qualities. “It’s not blood.” I show him my fingers, free of the crimson that stained them the last time he shed tears in front of me.
His eyes rove over the fire, over my feet and up to my face, and I think he’s going to say something about the potion, about how it changes him, but he just turns back to the sunrise and says, “Isn’t it lovely?”
And I turn to the ocean, pushing down my own desire to cry.
“The loveliest,” I whisper.
ONCE THE SUN KISSES OURfaces, once the seagulls squawk, breaking our silence, Bastian stands. And when I think he will gather the blankets, he gathers me instead and carries me all the way up to his bedroom where the sunlight streams through the windows. He lays me on his white comforter, crawling on top of me, then smoothing my hair, breathing out a peaceful sigh.
“I care if love hurts. I don’t know how to love without pain.” Why do I have to say it? Why can’t I just let the moment be?
But he just blinks, his eyes two gems in the daylight. “I’ll show you.”
There must be something in my expression, something that forces his lips to crash into mine, slick and delicious, while my arms hook around his shoulders.
I’m sure it’s awe. Awe of his beauty, not just the face staring back at me. It’s the soul that teaches me so much when I thought I knew it all. His mouth slides along my jaw, down to my neck until it lingers on the hollow of my throat, and he sighs so softly. I grab the back of his shirt and pull it over his head, then my shirt follows. My naked breasts meet his naked chest and it’s like home when his skin is on mine.
Bastian loves to kiss me, to explore me, to touch me, and I lie on my back, watching him pull my leggings off, fingers dancing across my stomach as he completely undresses me. And once we are both naked, he turns to the view, the sun billowing in from three sides of the room, then back to me.
“Never seen anything more beautiful,” he says and slides on top of me and inside of me, my leg wrapping around his waist. With his name on my lips and my fingers curling around his hair, I unravel, unravel more than I ever imagined, especially once he whispers those words. “I love you.”
And I say it back, with no reservations, with no excuses, with not one shred of regret.
My legs are tangled in his with his arms draped across my waist. I’ve gotten used to waking up in the pitch black that sleeping with a vampire requires, and so I call for my phone and look at the time once it hits my hand. The shades are now drawn and it’s three in the afternoon. Hunger rumbles in my stomach, and I wonder if there’s even anything here for me to eat.
I slip out of Bastian’s catatonic embrace, grab my bag, and tiptoe into the bathroom where I brush my teeth and pull a T-shirt and sleep shorts on. The entire house is completely dark, all the shades shutting out every speck of natural light. Once I find the kitchen switch, I walk to the pantry and that’s where I find trusty Top Ramen, besides multiple other foods that Bastian must have had sent here prior to our arrival.
Lying on the couch with the shades drawn tight is where I spend the hour. After a while, I slip through the front door and sit on the patio, where rainbows of pop-up tents litter the beach ahead, family’s shading themselves from the sun. California air is crisp and cutting, not heavy and wet like I’m used to, and though I think I like it, chills cover my body from my lack of warm attire.
But what a sight it is to behold. Mountains behind me, littered with lush treetops. Cliffs of greys and browns, with pockets of bushes and trees of all shapes and sizes. Sprawling sand bleeds into the ocean as far as the eye can see. Here is where I scroll through Instagram, where I see Chantal feeding Mercury on her story, and a feeling of absolute dread washes over me. I can’t even share this view with her. I can’t share any of my life with her right now, and the betrayal I am going to burden her with eventually is daunting.
I’m in California, a place she’s always dreamed of going. And I can’t share it with my best friend, the one person who knows me to my core. And suddenly I feel so lonely with a vampire taken by sleep and unopened text messages from my mother.
When Bastian wakes for the night, we take the car he keeps here (apparently 1969 Camaros are a big deal) to the grocery store so I have food to eat. I pick out easy enough food—eggs, grits, strawberries, and bread. And on the ride home I ask what he’ll do for sustenance.
“Every city has its own vampire rules. I stayed many years in New York with a group of goths that wanted to be a part of our secret circle and allowed us to drink from them. I’ll get by here the best I can, on beach drunks if I have to. I brought potions and creams, but I won’t prey like—” he pauses and looks at me. “Like usual.”
Like usual means women thinking they are being seduced, but what he really needs is their blood. I hate that it’s something I can never give him. There are so many obstacles stacked against us, it’s hard to imagine how a relationship would make sense. Designed to hate each other, yet completely enamored with the other.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Bastian downs the potion, making that disgusted face as he swallows. “You couldn’t work on the flavor?” he quips with a gag.
“Beggars can’t be choosers.” I tsk and pull on a pair of jean shorts and slide my feet into gladiator sandals.
“We have two hours until sunset,” I say, looking at my phone and then back to Bastian.
“You hungry?” I ask. His fangs are out and he pulls my groin against his.
“Not hungry,” he chants in my ear, smelling my neck.
“If I weren’t a witch, traveling would be so much easier for you. You could just feed on me, not have to leave to do whatever it is you did last night.”
“But youarea witch, and I have no regrets.” He steps back to look me in the eye.
“I can go with you, you know…I can handle it.”
