Page 69 of Heathens

“That’s what makes it all worth it in the end.”

I can’t help but smile to myself as he turns back around and chops up another onion. I haven’t had a home cooked meal in years. It’s mostly been canned food, boxes of mac & cheese, and MREs that Ruby had been stocking up for years. Our pantry is a doomsday prepper’s dream, but prices for fresh produce are so high with so few farmers left, and even fewer outside of Rene’s reach. I wonder again just how far Dominic had to go to get that steak, or who he sent to get it for him.

I feel completely out of place in this penthouse, like it’s all a ghost of the life I had before that had all but disappeared. We used to live near the Boardwalk in a beautiful beach house with a big backyard and a view. Now, Ruby and I sleep on shitty mattresses in her living room and use her bedroom as a pantry-slash-weapons storage container.

“So, I guess the question is, do vampires eat human food?”

“We can. I like the taste of it, but it’s not a necessity. Humans taste better than the food they make.”

“And what do I taste like?”

I want to know what makes me so addictive, why he keeps coming back.

Dominic turns and rolls his sleeves up a little higher, his forearms flexing. Heat pools between my thighs just watching him. If my mother were still alive, she might say he was husband material based on the cooking skills alone, but she would fucking hate the tattoos. When he looks back up at me, his expression is soft, almost sweet, full lips parted as he draws in a breath.

“A little like a popsicle melting in the sun, when it drips down your hand and you have to lick it up because you can’t bear to waste a drop.”

I chuckle and take another pull from my cigarette.

“A popsicle melting in the sun? Sounds pretty dangerous for you, don’t you think?”

“We understand metaphors, Sofie,” he pauses for a moment, looking out into the night. “Besides, we were all children once.”

He seems almost sad, but not exactly. More nostalgic than anything.

“Well then, if you’re an expert, what kind of popsicle would I be?”

“Cherry.”

I snort. He didn’t even miss a beat.

“What? Is that bad?”

“It’s so cliché, Dominic! Have some creativity!”

“Ah, well, if I suppose you don’t want the truth, will you settle for Strawberry?”

“Better,” I reply. “But still kind of hokey.”

“You really like to give an old man a hard time, don’t you?”

He doesn’t seem so dangerous now, save for the knife in his hand. And the fangs.And that if he wanted to, he could kill me just for saying the wrong thing.Or for less.

But for now, even just for a moment, everything is calm and soft.

Everything is nice.

SOFIE

Duncan Towers

Dominictakeshisseatas I look down at the meal he’s made for us. Perfectly cooked medium-rare steak, asparagus, and potatoes. It reminds me of Sam’s meals. He used to make a big fuss about having dinner as a family. It was important to him, and it became important to me.

A lump forms in my throat. I’ve really missed this kind of thing.

Still, despite how sweet it all seems, I have to wonder what his angle is. Does he want a cut of the club? Is he planning on moving in completely? Does he want us to freeze out Rene? Unfortunately, I’m painfully aware that none of these questions are good ice-breakers and I’d hate to dampen the mood.

“So, um, how old are you?” I clear my throat and smile. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

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