by Selena Kitt
“I’m not human.” He looks down at our hands, joined together. “I guess… here, in this world… they call me a vampire.”
I stare at him in disbelief for a moment and then, I can’t help it, I throw back my head and laugh.
“You can’t be a vampire!” I exclaim, feeling relieved. “Vampires don’t exist.”
“Neither do fairies,” Zeph reminds me softly.
I watch him as he goes back over to the stove to stir around the bacon and tend to the eggs, wondering if he can possibly be serious. I’ve been a fairy since—well, forever. Since the beginning of the beginning. I know everything there is to know about human existence, and I’ve never once come across the mythical “vampire.”
“But… Zeph…” I get up and go over to him, standing at the stove. “Vampires, they can’t go out in the sunlight. And they drink… blood…”
I stare at the bottle on the counter, at the thick red liquid still clinging to the side.
“This is blood?” I whisper, reaching out to pick it up, incredulous.
Zeph just nods, taking it from me and putting it back on the counter.
“You know all those things people believe about fairies that aren’t true?” he asks as he takes out a plate and flips two cooked eggs onto it with a spatula.
Of course I do. I’ve rolled my eyes about those misconceptions and joked with Alex about them forever. Literally, forever. From glowing, mean little sprites to magical forests to pixie dust, the strange ideas about fairies that abound are dizzying in number, and just ridiculous. And then I realize what Zeph is trying to tell me.
“There are a lot of things people believe about vampires that aren’t true,” he explains, putting bacon onto the plate with the eggs and turning down the flame.
I can’t believe I’m entertaining the idea, but suddenly, things make more sense. The way he can read minds. How he could see me, when I was fey. The carafe of blood in the refrigerator.
But I have to deal with my own misconceptions now.
“Sunlight doesn’t kill… vampires?” I ask, following him—and the smell of bacon—to the table, where he puts down my plate, along with a fork and a napkin.
“It can make me tired, if I haven’t fed…” he says, going over to the refrigerator and taking out another carafe, this one filled with orange juice. “But no, nothing can kill me. I’m immortal, Sam. Like you.”
He pours me a glass and brings it to the table. I taste it, tangy and sweet, licking my lips as I look up at him.
“If you’re a vampire, where are your fangs?” I challenge, cocking my head at him.
Zeph leans closer, opening his mouth slightly. One moment, he’s smiling, showing a row of straight, white teeth, and the next, there are two very sharp fangs. They appear behind his canines, almost like a snake.
“Oh, those look sharp.” I reach out without thinking, touching one. “Ouch!”
It’s the first time I’ve seen my own, human blood. It wells up on the tip of my finger, a little bead of red. I stare at it, incredulous, as Zeph takes my finger and draws it into his mouth, sucking gently. The motion makes me light-headed with lust. So does the darkening look of hunger in his eyes.
“Hey!” I pull my hand away, alarmed. “Am I going to turn into a vampire now?”
“It’s not that easy.” He chuckles, going over to the stove and making himself a plate of eggs and bacon.
“You can’t be a vampire!” I say, taking a bite of my eggs. They’re strange, a taste I can’t describe, but I like them. “I’ve seen you eat food!”
“We can eat food.” Zeph puts his plate on the table. “We just don’t need it, like humans do.”
“Do you taste it?” I wonder aloud, taking a bite of bacon. Taste is something that, as a fairy, I’ve never experienced before. “Oh my heavens, bacon! I want more bacon!”
“Yes, we taste it, just like you do.” He smiles, bringing more bacon to me on a little plate. He’s also carrying a little glass of blood.
“How does blood taste?” I ask, watching as he drinks. I can’t help my curiosity, even if I’m a little appalled at the thought.
“You won’t even drink what comes out of a cow’s udder,” he reminds me with a scarlet smile. “You want to drink blood?”
I shake my head, content with my bacon and orange juice. Eggs are all right, but orange juice is yummy and bacon is simply divine.
“Is that why you could see me?” I ask. “When I was fey?”
“Yes.” He nods. He’s eating bacon too. But he’s not drinking orange juice.
“But you don’t see all of us?”
“No.” He shrugs. “In truth, I’ve seen very few of you. Just the fey who are on the margins.”
“On the margins?” I frown, chewing thoughtfully. “What does that mean?”
“The curious,” he says, smiling slightly. “The questioning. The… doubtful.”
“Oh.” I blink in surprise. “Is that what I am?”
Of course, I know I am. Alex would recognize me in those words instantly. Alex is none of those things, but me… I am overly curious. Always questioning. Even doubtful.
“You are… something else.” He leans back in his chair, looking at me, and there’s something in his eyes that hasn’t been there before. Something unveiled. Maybe it’s just relief. There’s an honesty, a frankness about him now. I like it. But there’s something else, too, something that’s been there all along.
“I guess we both are… something else.” I tease, finishing the last of the bacon on my plate and turning to the extra one he’s brought me. “But why do you look so sad?”
“I just want to spend all the time I can with you.”
“And we have so little,” I murmur, hating to say it, to even remind myself.
“Yes.” He sighs, reaching over to touch my hand, and I realize now why his hand is always so cool, his lips too. How is it possible, to walk around in human form, and yet still be immortal?
“I can’t believe vampires exist,” I say aloud, shaking my head in wonder.
“If I can believe in fairies, you can believe in vampires.” He squeezes my hand, smiling again. “Besides, things aren’t always what they seem, are they?”
“What does that mean?” I ask, watching him finish off the last of the red liquid in the little glass. “So is that… human blood?”
“Yes.” He licks his lips, coated red. His tongue too. Even as I watch, his cheeks go from pale to pink. How could I not have noticed it before?
“Then what are the fangs for?” I wonder.
“Emergencies.” He grins, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “This is the twenty-first century, Sam. I can get blood delivered to my door. And I do.”
“Amazon?” I know all about Amazon. All those smiling boxes at everyone’s door, all year long, but especially around Christmas.
“That’s one of the few things they don’t deliver.” He laughs.
“So you don’t feed on people?” I ask. “With the fangs?”
“Sometimes…” He’s got a faraway look in his eyes. “But not often. Let’s say it’s a rare treat.”
“A treat?” I shudder, finishing the last of my bacon. “I don’t think I’d like having to drink blood.”
“It’s better than it sounds,” he tells me. “It… it fills a need. A craving. A hunger.”
“I don’t like hungry.” I make a face, looking down at my empty plate.
“But you like food?”
“Yes.” I nod, leaning back and putting my hand on my belly. It’s full now, no longer grumbling. Sated.
“It’s the same with blood.” He’s on the kitchen floor, on his knees, pushing mine open.
I’m awash with wonder as I look down at him, kissing his way up my bare thighs.
“And sex?” I murmur, my hand in his hair. “That fills a need too…”
“It’s all connected…” The heat of his breath moves over my mound, something I can’t remember feeling before. His lips are warm! I wo
nder if his heart his beating. Have I ever heard his heart beating? “Hunger, desire, food, sex…”
And then he’s between my legs, devouring me, greedy, ravenous, and I know he’s right, but I’m not sure how. I’m too lost in my own pleasure, my body on fire, to contemplate anything but Zeph.
Chapter Eleven
“Why do people wear clothes at all?” I snuggle up to Zeph under the covers. We’ve spent all morning in it. His bed is big and soft, so comfortable. Comfort is something I’ve never been without before, and it’s strange to me. Humans seem to be creatures of opposites. They’re cold or hot, hungry or full, loving or hating. Stasis—a state fairies are almost always in—seems a rare human condition.
“Remember that whole Garden of Eden thing?” Zeph chuckles, his fingers playing in the fine, silky, yellow strands of my hair, letting it fall against my bare shoulders, making me shiver.
Even now, completely sated after sex—I’m trying to experience as many orgasms as I can before I have go back to being fey—I can feel the beginning stirrings of longing again. Humans are beings of such extremes. It makes life so exciting—and exhausting.
“Oh, that silly story book?” I roll my eyes, yawning. I’m sleepy, but I don’t care. I don’t want to sleep. “The misconceptions people have about The Maker are crazy, aren’t they?”
“Almost as crazy as the misconceptions they have about fairies. Or vampires.”
“Crazier.” I shake my head in wonder.
“But humans need stories, Sam,” he says. “They need to understand things through language and images. It’s one of the few thing that sets them apart from the animals on the ark.”
“Oh that. Don’t remind me.” I shake my head, burying it in a pillow as I stretch. Then I lift it to look at him. “You know, Alex was the one who forgot the unicorns. We were all in charge of using our powers to drive the animals into the ark, but he forgot the unicorns.”
“He should have forgotten the mosquitos.” Zeph smirks.
“Insect vampires,” I tease, sticking my tongue out at him.
“Hey! I don’t make people itch after I bite them,” he says, reaching over and tickling my ribs. I let out a surprised laugh, rolling away from him to escape the onslaught.
Zeph pins me, arms above my head, both of us breathing hard.
“It wasn’t really a boat, you know,” I tell him. “Yes, there was a big flood, but the animals were safe underground.”
The archaic meaning of the word “ark” means refuge. The animals had been safe, deep underground, when The Maker decided to try the whole human experiment again. Noah never really built a boat. In fact, his family being in the refuge at all had been a mistake. Drunk old man had hidden his family from marauders in a cart attached to a horse, which just happened to be on our list to round up.
Of course, the drunk old man took credit for it, when it was all over. Made up the story about building a boat, getting all the animals on it. I’m pretty sure that’s how he story ended up in that book.
Zeph is distracting me again, licking my collarbone like I’m a lollipop.
“You smell so good,” he whispers, his hips pressed into mine. I can feel him growing hard again. I’ve watched a lot of men have sex over the years, but I’ve never known a man like him—so insatiable. Now that I know what he is, it makes so much more sense. “Like honey or syrup or something. Must be the fey in you.”
“Oh, Zeph, I’m getting sore,” I complain when his hand moves between my legs, cupping me. But I moan and lift my hips up anyway.
“Not enough lubrication then.” He licks the shell of my ear, making me shiver, remembering his tongue. “I’ll fix that.”
With a shot of blood in him, he’s even more amorous than before.
“Okay.” I sigh happily as he kisses his way down my body. I can’t resist him. I don’t care if I’m rubbed raw and bleeding—and it’s not that bad, not yet—I won’t be able to say no. I want him. All the time, I want him.
Zeph has just settled himself between my thighs when the doorbell rings.
“Goddamnit!” he swore, grabbing a pair of boxers and yanking them on. “I told him to call first!”
“Who?” I half-sit, frowning at the interruption.
“Char.” Zeph scowls, eyes narrowing as he glances at me. “You stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I nod, but get up anyway, watching as he hops down the hallway, pulling on a pair of jeans as he goes. He disappears around the corner. Zeph answers the door and I hear another man’s voice, but not the words. I know he told me to stay, but I’m too curious—always my downfall—so I grab a robe off the back of Zeph’s door and wrap it around me, heading after him.
“I think I saw a penguin out there, it’s so cold.” A man’s voice. Not Zeph. “They say it’ll be twenty below today. Even colder tonight. I think the last time it was this cold, I had to pull wooly mammoth hair off of my suit.”
I suppress a giggle, but Zeph doesn’t laugh.
“We don’t feel it, what do you care?” Zeph snaps.
“Just making conversation, old friend.”
“I told you, I don’t have time for small talk. How long has she been like this?” Zeph asks as I near the end of the hall. The kitchen is to the left, but they’re not in there. The voices are coming from the right, toward the living room and the front of the house.
She? Who’s she?
That jealousy feeling comes up again and I swallow it down. I stop at the end of the hall, hesitating, not wanting to make my presence known.
“I told you, she just fell yesterday.” It’s the other man’s voice. Char. “But it’s like she’s not quite here. Remember Joph?”
“I remember. Muriel?” Zeph’s voice, soft. “Muriel, can you hear me?”
Muriel. Who’s Muriel? Has she fallen and hurt herself? But how can Zeph help her?
“Just do your thing, my friend,” Char says. “She’ll come down to us.”
I stand barefoot in the hall, shivering, confused. I know I should go back to bed and wait for Zeph, like he asked me to, but I can’t. I want to know what’s going on. I have to see. I edge a little closer to peek around the corner, but I’m still in the shadows. Now I can see a beautiful woman’s profile. She has long, dark hair and is reclining on the couch, still wearing a coat far too big for her. Zeph, sitting beside her, is facing me, but he’s looking at her. He doesn’t see me.
That feeling again. My throat closing. Just seeing him touching her, his hand resting on her forehead, is enough to ignite that fire under my ribcage. There’s a tall man standing near, looking down at her, concerned. Maybe Muriel is partnered with him, I think. I hope. He’s handsome—sharp, angular features with shoulder-length hair, an unruly dark brown. He’s wearing a long overcoat.
“Is she in there, Zeph?” Char asks, frowning.
“Of course she is. Shhh.” Zeph’s eyes close, brow creased in concentration. Looking at him like this, when he doesn’t know I’m watching, is like discovering a secret. He’s far more handsome than his friend, and already I know those hands, that mouth, probably better than I know my own.
“What do you see?” Char looks more than concerned now. He looks a little scared.
“Shh!” Zeph shakes his head but doesn’t open his eyes. I don’t like the way his hand moves from the woman’s forehead to her cheek, stroking lightly with his fingertips.
“She’s been through a lot. I think—”
“Char, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to pull your fangs out.”
I cover my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing at the dark look on Char’s face. So he’s a vampire. I should have guessed. His hands curl into fists and for a minute I think he’s going to haul off and hit Zeph. I’m about to call out, but what Zeph does next stops him.
It stops us both.
Zeph cups Muriel’s face in his hands, leaning in close, like he’s going to kiss her.
My breath catches in my throat as Zeph’s mouth touches the
woman’s. I’ve felt his kisses again and again, I know exactly what it feels like, the soft press of his lips, the smell of him, like some exotic copper spice, those skilled, firm-but-gentle hands. Whatever small jealousy I’ve felt before is nothing compared to this. I have a volcano in my belly and it’s about to erupt.
“What the fuck?” Char grabs the back of Zeph’s neck, yanking him backwards, and the men tussle. I can only stare at them, wide-eyed, shrinking back into the shadows. They’re yelling at each other and I’m sure they’re going to start punching each other. Neither of them notice that the woman on the couch has opened her eyes, and they’re blood red. Not just the irises, but the whites too. And she’s sitting up. Looking straight at me.
A chill passes through me as I realize what she is—and what she wants. She’s looking at me like she could eat me alive, and my hands go reflexively to my throat.
“Muriel!” Char’s voice rings out loudly as he pushes Zeph away from him. He’s noticed his charge, who licks her lips and looks at me like she’s a starving woman and I’m a fat, juicy steak. And I suppose I am. I feel my pulse thrumming under my fingers. “Muriel, no!”
I open my mouth to cry out, to call to Zeph, but she moves so fast, so very fast.
But Zeph is faster. He has her by the hair first, then he wraps an arm around her waist from behind, turning her around to face Char. It’s the first time she’s noticed him and it stops her cold. Her whole body trembles when she see him and she cries out, falling to her knees. The tears that fall down her cheeks are as red as her eyes.
“Muriel.” Char goes to his knees too, gathering the woman into his arms. “Oh sweet Muriel.”
Char rocks her and the relief in the man’s eyes as he looks up at Zeph is palpable. He mouths a “thank you,” but Zeph isn’t paying any attention. Zeph stalks toward me, grabbing me to him and running his hands over my body through the robe as if he’s checking for broken bones, or cracks and crevices where they shouldn’t be.
“I told you to stay put.” Zeph frowns before pulling me into a tight, breath-quashing hug.
“Sorry,” I squeak, and I can’t help but watch over his shoulder as Char cradles the sobbing Muriel in his arms.
