Page 21 of Illuminated

“It means simply that you have to be able to handle being a vampire, physically, yes, but even more so mentally. It’s not all driving sports cars and seducing people like the movies would have you believe.”

“Are you saying I’m naïve?”

He sighed. “I do not wish to argue with you. All I am telling you is that this is not something suited to everyone. The one that made me told me the exact same. If you are not ready, you are just as likely to murder yourself as you are those around you. And I should mention that if you want to have children, it is not something you can do as a vampire. Vampires only procreate through blood.”

“Do I really look like I want to settle down with some girl so I can attain the suburban gold star?” I asked.

His hand reached for mine. “My sweet, I do not wish to argue. I want you to know these things. You have to know these things. It is why I have been telling you all of it. And one more thing you must know: all humans around a vampire eventually die. That is abstract, and it is easy to shrug off in the abstract now. In the concrete, your father will die. All the relatives that have known you since you were little will die. Friends will die. And because it becomes a thing of some frequency, you sometimes find yourself forgetting names, even of the people that were dearest to you at one point in your life. You can find yourself alone and adrift, unmoored.”

I stopped eating altogether now. “Is that where I was headed? Some forgettable fuck you spent a few nights with because he was right there and willing?”

His silver eyes could pack a punch. His glare was almost worse than a physical slap would have been.

“If anything I did led you to believe that, I owe you an apology.” He took a measured breath. “I lied to you last night at the restaurant when I said if you left I would never see you again. I would have found you. I spent that hour worrying you wouldn’t stay and planning what I could do to convince you to talk to me again if you had left. So no, you were never forgettable, not to me.”

I shifted in my seat, uneasy. His hand on mine steadied me. “Why?” I asked.

He didn’t answer for a long while, but his gaze softened as his eyes looked into mine. “I’m not sure I can explain it well and without you hating the explanation.”

“Why don’t you try?”

“Very well. But will you give me your word before I do that you won’t storm out of here? That you’ll spend the night at the very least?”

His voice was near pleading, and that pulled on my heartstrings. And I knew that I’d only known him for a short period of time, but all the same, my emotions were real. And… being with him made me feel good. It was the easy comfort that should only exist between two people who knew each other well.

“Fine.” I nodded. “I promise.”

He got up off his stool and pulled me with him. “Come on. Let’s go sit on the couch. I’ll light a fire.”

“You can’t just tell me?” I said.

“I could, but allow me to build up to it.”

I sighed. “Fine.”

I sat down in the leftmost corner of the U, pulled my legs up. The couch was comfortable, and from my spot on it, I could see the ocean churn, the white seafoam, and the turquoise depths.

“Should I get you something to drink?” Auris said from where he was putting logs in the fireplace as well as kindling. I hadn’t seen him do it the night before, but it was somewhat elaborate the way he did it; I would have just tossed in the logs and lit them. He probably knew how to do it properly, though.

“If you really have to keep stalling,” I said.

“I take that as a yes,” he said, smiling at me over his shoulder.

I watched him light the fire and blow on the flame for extra air, then watched as he put on more logs until he was satisfied with the result. Then, he got a bottle from the pantry in the kitchen, red wine, and filled two glasses, brought them over and handed me one.

“Cheers,” he said, and the rims sang when they touched.

“I thought you don’t drink,” I said and tried the wine. The taste of dark summer berries exploded on my tongue.

“No, but I can keep you company. So.” He put his glass down and adjusted his position so that his body was facing mine. “The easy answer is that I would have come to you again because I am in love with you.”

“Bullshit.” I sipped more wine.

“You pulled away from my entrancement in the church. I know you don’t know how rare that is, but it’s not normal at all.” He stopped, shook his head as if to dislodge an errant thought. “It’s more than that, of course. I feel like I’ve known you for forever, even if I only just met you yesterday. I feel close to you, and I want to be close to you.”

“Still sounds like bullshit,” I said, although some of what he said rang true. It felt right. And I couldn’t deny I had felt something similar myself. With him.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like the explanation,” he said, brushing my cheek. “The second thing I should tell you is that my mother told me about you.”

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