Page 2 of Overexposed

Firmer caresses woke me. The sky was lighter, and the train slowed.

“They checking passports now?” I asked.

Auris kissed me, a quick brush of dry lips against my own. “No, we are here.”

I nodded, and after a generous stretch and yawn, I took my backpack and camera bag. Auris handled most of the rest of my luggage and me on top of that, seeing as how I had entered that zombie state that happened when you took a nap instead of skipping sleep altogether.

Walking through the train station jolted me awake as much as was physically possible, on account of how pretty it was. A red-and-cream marble floor united the newer metal and glass part, nothing special. But when we got to the front where a creamy yellow stone cupola waited with statues standing at the cupola’s base and looking at eternity with unmoving marble eyes, I had to stop.

“Anything the matter?” Auris said, laughter in his voice.

I unzipped my camera case. “Nah.”

“It isn’t at all abandoned, this train station,” Auris said, his silver eyes twinkling.

I aimed my lens up to catch all the colors, the domed architecture. The light. Click. “I’m taking a break from working. I’m beat.” I caught Auris, glancing sideways, a clock above his head, light filling the air in sheets of brightness. Click.

He tsked. “Ethan, will you not allow your model a break as well?”

“Nah,” I said, and went on. I took maybe twenty good photos, and the one with him not quite looking at the camera was the best.

When I put my camera away again, Auris gave me a happy kind of look and waved to a man who’d been standing at a distance. I hadn’t noticed him there at all. He’d picked a spot where the light wasn’t good and where there was nothing interesting to see.

“Mr. Salek,” he said, his accent noticeable already.

“Jan, thanks for waiting. Ethan, meet our driver and my property manager here.”

“Hi,” I said before reaching up to make sure I had my mask in place.

Jan, whose name Auris had pronounced as “Yawn,” was older than Gloria, Auris’s housekeeper back in Brightam. Jan clearly cared about appearances, going by his suit and slicked-back hair, but he didn’t wear the clothes or the hair like he was used to them. I’d learned to tell that about a person, because in the art world, people who weren’t used to wearing suits but bothered to put them on never bought your photographs off a gallery wall. Those who didn’t like wearing suits and showed up in grunge or -- on one occasion -- pajamas, oftentimes made difficult customers, but they also bought in bulk if they liked something. While we followed Jan to the car, I wondered about whether I’d ever do anything like that again -- show up at a gallery to mingle and talk to potential buyers.

There wasn’t a lot of luggage, most of it my photo stuff and just a single bag for Auris. I volunteered to sit in the back. I was staring at the city while in the front, Auris and Jan ventured into a dry discussion of the property and upgrades that had been made since Auris had last been here. By the time we crossed a bridge, I knew I’d enjoy spending some time here.

“How long are we going to stay in the city?” I asked when there was a break in the conversation in the front.

“A few weeks at a minimum, but we can stay longer if you feel comfortable here, my sweet,” Auris said.

“Cool,” I said, then remembered we’d come to Prague because Auris had learned that the church had murdered another vampire here. “The city. Not why we are here.”

“I know. And it’s fine. Everything will be fine.”

* * *

“Welcome,” Auris said when he opened the door to a huge apartment that took up the entire top floor of the building. He carried my bags inside and left my camera gear on the parquet in the wide hallway. Whoever was his interior designer had gone with three main colors: black, ash gray, and gold, and the hallway was bare, apart from a large mirror with an antique gold frame.

“Wow, it’s big,” I said. There was an actual echo in the hallway, too. “How long have you owned this place?” I asked, taking in the crown molding and gold leaf and the polished wooden floor that shimmered in a dark reddish brown. I peered into a room that branched off the hallway, a living room. The high ceilings combined with just a few furniture pieces made the black, shiny walls look warm rather than oppressive, and I smiled when I saw a fireplace, another large mirror above it. Two massive armchairs in front of it were easily big enough for a nap, and the fluffy gold-and-white pillows made me crave that.

“Long,” Auris said, walking past me. “I gave the designer carte blanche, incidentally. She kept the old chandelier in the dining room. Most other things didn’t meet her vision.”

“Shame about the chandelier. Doesn’t she know you don’t use the dining room that much?”

He laughed. “She does not. Now come here --” he said, walking up toward me through the hallway, “-- and let me show you the bedroom.” He pulled me into a kiss, and I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him to me in return.

I parted my lips for him and shivered when his tongue brushed over mine. His mouth yielded and demanded, his teeth grazing my skin, an instinct he couldn’t or didn’t want to control, and the memory of his bite tricked my arms and legs into tingling with excitement.

I pressed closer to him, and he tightened his hold on me. Solid. Auris meant stability, harbor, safety. He’d come to rescue me, had protected me, during his weakest time, and now here he was, exchanging breath for breath.

I felt lightheaded and pulled back for air. “So this is why you wanted me to sleep on the train,” I whispered in his ear.

---