Cerulean (Book one in series)

by A. L. Singer

  Sorin let go of my hand, and just as it fell to the bed, more light filled the room from multiple lit candles. I froze and looked at each sconce on the wall. Almost each one now held a burning candle. “Breathe, Mia,” he lightly teased.

  I blinked and took a deep breath, amazed. I hadn’t even seen him move. I looked from the wall to him; as more light now filled the room, I could see his face clearer. His eyes still drew me in slightly. “Again,” I said. I couldn’t help but be intrigued. “More candles, but slower this time.” I wanted to see it again. Like a child watching a magician, trying to figure out the trick.

  He reached down from where he stood, suddenly beside me, and tucked a loose curl behind my ear. “Anything you want.” Sorin smiled lightly, and his eyes turned a little mischievous. Before I could blink, he was across the room lighting the first candle. He paused at each one and slowly lit it so I could see him. But from candle to candle he was a blur. Gradually the room filled with even more light, and Sorin was back on the bed next to me. I couldn’t contain myself. “That was better than the movies!” I blurted out.

  He scowled and lines filled his brow. “It is not all like the movies.” He spoke with irritation.”

  But you are really fast,” I pointed out, feeling a little giddy.

  His face softened, and his head tilted. He was studying me. Sorin grinned and looked pleased. “Your color is improving. …” His voice trailed off.

  My patience had worn thin on his cryptic observations. I smacked the bed below me with both hands. “That is it!” I said in a raised voice. “For days you’ve looked at me … like you are observing something. Studying me … I’m not sure how to explain it. But you just did it. Then there are the cryptic comments, something about my color.” I balled my hands into fists and took a deep breath. “I realize now it is not my cheeks you are referring to you.” I sighed. “There is so much I want to know, so many questions I want to ask. But if you tilt your head one more time at me … in that … way … I will scream.”

  Sorin’s grin deepened further, and his eyes wandered away. He was thinking. Maybe trying to find the right words, maybe trying to come up with a lie. I could feel my forehead crease, and my eyes narrowed, locking on his. He suddenly looked back at me, right into me as usual.

  I felt my shoulders straighten. “Don’t lie to me,” I said. “I could see you trying to decide … something just now.” I lifted my chin a little and raised my eyebrows, as if to challenge him to deny it.

  His grin faded away, and he lightly shook his head. “Mia, I could not lie to you even if I wanted to. I have deceived you these past few days. But even when I was not truly honest, you knew.” He sounded sincere.

  I scoffed. “More cryptic words,” I accused. “I don’t understand.” I lay my head against the wall feeling drained.

  His face slowly changed, jaw tightening, and I could see him contemplating something. “Mia, I know you understand so much more than you realize. Your body has responded to me in so many ways since I have been here with you. But I suppose it is all a little too much for your mind to grasp, and with good reason.” Sorin paused, and his back stiffened. He looked as if he was preparing himself. But for what I had no idea. He shook his head. “Mia,” he forced out, “I have decided I made a terrible mistake coming here. I should not have done so and feel I should leave immediately!” His words sounded forced and rehearsed.

  Just as the confusion started to fill me, my mouth filled with saliva. A horrible wave of nausea came over me, and my stomach started turning. I gagged, my hands flew to my mouth, and I started to scramble off the bed. Sorin caught me, and his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me to him. His other arm locked around my chest. “Let me go!” I yelled into my hand. “I’m about to be sick.” I gagged as another wave of nausea washed over me. His arms were locked tight around me as I looked over to my bathroom door. My back was pressed against his chest as I sat between his legs. “They were lies. Everything I just said—all lies. You can taste them.” He stilled momentarily. “It would be pointless for me to lie to you. You would taste my deception every time.” He said it so matter-of-factly.

  I stopped struggling against him. The taste in my mouth was bitter, medicinal. Like the times before. My mind went back to all the times I had experienced it. It had never been this strong. First I’d thought it was the tea, and then I had accused him of putting something in my food.

  “Just relax. … It will pass,” he softly whispered, and his arms loosened their hold. I lay my head back against him and let my arms fall to my stomach. Was it unimaginable, the thought of being able to taste someone’s lies? My stomach began to calm, and I thought maybe a part of me had almost figured it out. I remembered seeing an episode of medical mysteries on the science channel. The first story was about a young blind boy. But, like a bat or dolphin, he could click his tongue and use sonar to get around. I recalled the second story now—a pair of sisters who could taste words. The disorder was called synesthesia. Each word tasted different to them. Or maybe each word had a color. It had been so long, I couldn’t remember the details. I’d thought it was amazing at the time. But now, experiencing something similar, I felt sorry for them. I took a few deep breaths and tried to believe everything that was happening.

  Sorin explained that almost all vampires experienced different degrees of the disease. And it was believed that it had been passed down through the blood.

  “Promise you’ll never lie to me again, Sorin.” I pleaded, hoping I would never experience that again. My temple rested against his cheek, and I felt the muscles change. He was smiling, but just a little.

  He spoke, and it was a light and genuine. “I will never so boldly lie to you again, Mia; as I just showed, you any attempt would be futile.” Sorin’s arms released me completely, and each of his hands descended to rest over mine. The bitter taste was finally fading from my mouth.

  His words sank in, and they had an all-too-familiar hidden meaning. I blinked, trying to get my thoughts together. I sat up and moved away from him. Sorin stayed where he was, leaning his left shoulder against the wall, his eyes drinking me in. “So boldly lie?” I repeated his words as a question.

  He looked slightly surprised to see I had caught that there was more to his words. “You could lie to yourself if you truly wanted to. A lie is simply someone’s perception or desire of what they really want. We could look at the same starry sky. I could say how filled with stars the night sky is. When you look up and only see a few. Which is a lie?” Sorin shrugged his shoulders, running his fingers through his hair. “It is all in one’s perception. … Maybe I simply see more stars than you. I will never purposefully lie to you. But I cannot promise that our perceptions on subjects are even close currently.” His eyes surveyed me, and I felt my body tense when he said it. “You look like you are feeling better though, your—”

  I cut him off before he could finish. “Your color looks much better.” I spat at him, annoyed. “Explain it.”

  He nodded. “Just as it is obvious to you when I lie … your emotions are obvious to me. Color surrounds you, Mia. It radiates from your body; it changes as your mood or feelings change. Not just you; all humans have colors around them.”

  I thought about it for a minute, imagined it was someone’s aura he could see. After just experiencing been able to taste his lies, his seeing my mood wasn’t a far stretch. I tried to picture it in my head, but it was a struggle. “Explain it to me. Describe which colors you see. … Please.” I slipped down under the sheet and lay on my side, facing Sorin. I tucked a pillow under my head and waited.

  I watched as his face slowly changed. Sadness filled his eyes. “Every one of your kind is different. Some of the colors are bright, vivid. Some have dark clouds around them.” His voice ached. Sorin reached down, and his hand cupped the side of my face. “You have only darkness around you Mia. You have been surrounded by the colors of death and sorrow. It has lessened, but not to a great extent.” His voice made my eyes water. I c
ould hear how hard it had been for him to look at me and see my pain for days now. His thumb caressed my cheek, and I closed my eyes briefly. He continued. “Each emotion has its own color, and a human can be surrounded by more than one color. Just as a human can feel more than one emotion at a time.” I closed my eyes and pictured it, a soft cloud that surrounded me. My stomach knotted a little. The air around me sounded colorless, black. I opened my eyes and looked up at Sorin. His expression hadn’t changed.

  I tried to lighten the mood. “I imagine it’s beautiful, the colors you see. I loved it when new crayon colors were created as a child. When I paint I love mixing colors and creating new ones.” I thought for a moment. “You said every emotion has a color. … What color is joy?” I wanted to try imagining what he saw when he looked at humans when they were happy. His hand left my cheek and he laid it over mine where it rested on the bed between us.

  Sorin’s face lightened, and his eyes drifted away for a minute. “Your kind is so complicated when it comes to emotions. It is like fingerprints.” He paused and looked down at our hands. He turned my hand over and traced the lines in my palm with his finger. His fingers spread out and covered each of mine. “Yellow is usually the color that surrounds the joyful. But the shades of yellow are endless. It is never the same color of joy for two people. Maybe a human is happy and excited, or in high spirits and nervous.” He half smiled. “Picture the largest box of crayons you had when you were young. Then imagine each one of those crayons and the possible shades, darker or lighter.”

  I closed my eyes and saw my favorite color when I was little. “My favorite color was cerulean.” I whispered to myself. I imagined the blue color a single shade lighter, then even lighter. I pictured it a shade darker, and then even darker.

  Sorin must have guessed what was going through my head. “Now imagine that crayon and all its possibilities mixed with all the other crayon colors.” His voice slowly trailed in the distance as a world of colors swam through my head.

  Eventually I opened my eyes and looked at Sorin. “It sounds breathtaking.” My voice filled with awe.

  His lips tightened. “To you, yes. I am sure you would view it as beautiful. It usually is. … But along with the beautiful emotions—joy, love, compassion—come very ugly ones. Even after all these years, it is still hard to see the dark colors around humans. To see them surrounded by the colors of greed, deception, and hate. I welcome my life of solitude.” He glanced around the room. “It is over stimulating at times, Mia. Easily hearing everyone’s conversations all at once, seeing all the colors. But after a while, a dark room and silence are all I desire.”

  His words pulled at my heart. My eyes drifted to his sweater, a dark gray. Just a shade or two lighter than yesterday’s. I reached out and felt the bottom of his sleeve. It was even softer than it looked. “You have worn nothing but dark clothes since you’ve been here, and always sweaters.”

  A smile gently played across his lips. Sorin looked at me and then over to my closet. His smile deepened a little. “I am not the only one who has a wardrobe absent of color.” An eyebrow rose slightly, and his expression was one of teasing.

  I wasn’t sure what he meant. I shrugged at him. “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  Sorin nodded his head toward my closet. “Have you never noticed what lack of color your closet holds?” He looked down at the bed and then around the room. “Even your room is predominantly in black. The only color is a deep wine.”

  I felt my face warm at the thought of his being in my bedroom, seeing my things. I looked at my closet door, trying to think of everything it enclosed. “I only went into your closet for the comforter. I apologize, but it was necessary. I could not help but notice the lack of bright colors in your closet.”

  I wrinkled my nose at him. “We can’t all be sunbeams and rainbows, Sorin.” I shrugged and explained further. “Other than my painting, colors don’t appeal to me. I don’t wear all black … just dark, rich colors.” I looked around my room. “The thought of a bright-yellow or bubblegum-pink bedroom makes my stomach turn.”

  He looked toward the window and down to me. “The sun is down. …. How does some fresh air sound?”

  His hand gently squeezed mine.

  Chapter 10

  Sorin pulled the covers away, and in a single breath, darkness filled the room. He had put out all the candles and was opening my bedroom door. A light chuckle escaped me as I pulled the sheet back. I walked around the bed and joined him by the door. He smiled lightly, offering his arm. I cupped my hand over the inside of his elbow, and he led me down the hall.

  I stopped at the top of the stairs and looked back down the hallway. I hadn’t noticed it the night before, but all the pictures had been removed. Empty nails lined the wall. I looked to Sorin, but he answered my question before I could even ask it. “I removed them from the table for you. After your physical response to them that first day, I thought it best not to hang them just yet.” He paused. “Mia, if you want them back on the walls, I will return them.” His free hand cradled my cheek, and he kissed my forehead. “I am only trying to make it a little more bearable for you, anyway I can.”

  My eyes watered. I thought Jenny had cleared them from the table and returned them to the walls. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He walked me to the kitchen and pulled my usual stool out for me. “You should eat before we go outside. What sounds appealing?” He turned and opened the refrigerator. “More strawberries?” he asked, and I heard the container crinkle in his hand. “Actually, the strawberries smell a little … overripe.” Sorin threw them away and returned to the fridge. A few things were shuffled around. “I think you should choose what to eat.” He passed my side and sat on the stool across from me, looking apologetic. “I forgot how awful food can smell sometimes. Some of that has expired and should be removed.”

  He was right. I hadn’t cleaned out the fridge since the accident. It was something my mother usually took care of. I crossed my arms over one another on the counter in front of me and laid my head on them. “I don’t want to eat.” I felt like crying yet again. He reached out and squeezed my shoulder. The silence was broken when my stomach growled. I knew he heard it. I quickly lifted my head and glared at him—a warning to keep silent.

  He lightly chuckled, understanding my meaning, which he chose to ignore. “How about a banana and some crackers?” His voice had a slightly pleading tone.

  “I give up,” I mumbled. “Whatever. … Nothing sounds good to me, Sorin. I’m going to go outside for some fresh air. I will eat later.” I slipped off the stool and headed down the hall to the patio door.

  By the time I was sliding the door open Sorin was behind me. Food filled one of his arms, and he had a glass of juice in the other. I couldn’t hold back a small smile. I wondered if I would ever get used to his moving so quickly. I opened the patio door and the outdoor lights automatically flicked on. I sat at the outdoor table and watched as he placed all the food in front of me. The glass of juice looked refreshing, but I waited for him to set everything down. He had raided the pantry in the time it took me to walk down the hallway. He placed a box of crackers before me. And a bag of pistachios, followed by a granola bar, and, last of all, a banana that had just started to spot from age.

  I laughed lightly. “I cannot eat all of this … but I will eat something.” I drank some juice and nibbled on the crackers. Sorin sat back in his chair and admired the night sky. I followed his gaze and took a deep breath. It was warm out, and I could smell the humidity in the air. We just sat there in silence as I slowly ate.

  I reached for the bag of pistachios, but his hand caught mine as I pulled the bag toward me. A sly look crept over his face. “Allow me, Mia,” he offered. I opened my mouth to protest but stopped. I looked down, and his palm already held a handful of shelled nuts. He emptied the shelled nuts into my palm. “It has been difficult to slow my movements,” he admitted. “I did slip once or twice … but I believe it went unnoticed.” H
e looked a little smug.

  I finished the glass of juice and noticed that the air had become cooler. Sorin’s chin lifted, and he looked off into the distance. “We should head inside. It will rain soon.” His voice had its usual confidence. He stood up slowly, and I pushed my chair from the table. I picked up the empty glass and reached for everything else, but it was gone. I turned to the patio door behind me. Sorin stood in front of the patio door waiting for me, with food and empty wrappers in hand.

  “Now you’re just showing off.” I put my free hand on my hip.

  His head tilted just a little and his eyes circled to me. “But a part of you enjoys it every time, Mia.” He said it with such assurance that I didn’t bother to argue with him. He went inside, and I followed, locking the door behind me. I paused; the act of locking the door to keep out intruders suddenly seemed silly. I was actually locking myself inside with the most dangerous person I knew.

  Questions quickly filled my head. I knew so little about Sorin. Everything he had shared with me during the past few days had been partial truths. I wanted to know it all—the true interaction he’d had with my mother years ago. I walked to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. Sorin sat on his stool. I looked at him, seeing an absolutely beautiful man before me. His skin looked so light next to his dark hair, and his eyes were a shade of blue I had never seen before. How had I not noticed his true appearance before? It made me feel oblivious to what had been right in front of me. The way he looked, the way he looked at me. Even the way he was dressed was so different.

  I leaned against the doorway frame, and scenes from my favorite vampire movies flashed through my head. Scenes of blood, gore, murder. I swallowed as visions of passion and seduction raced through my thoughts. Maybe that was why I hadn’t seen it before; I wasn’t supposed to. My mind raced through details about Sorin. He never ate, always made excuses, but forced me to eat. Overdressed for the weather, and yet he still felt cool to the touch. Sunlight hadn’t been an issue, as I had hardly seen it myself lately. I was supposed to be drawn in by him, falling at his feet and baring my neck to him. That’s how it was in the movies. The night before, I had gone to his room to seduce him, only he wasn’t there. I’d thought he’d left without a word, and then I’d taken the sleeping pill … tried to take even more. And then he’d saved me. My stomach knotted up. How much did the movies have accurate—none of it, all of it, or somewhere in between?