by Rae, Nikki
But soon, her tongue flicks out across her lower lip. The small amount of my blood there disappears and she opens her eyes partway.
“Do you like that?” I ask.
She gasps, pausing like she’s afraid admitting it will make it backfire. Then she nods.
“Do you want more?”
She doesn’t pause before nodding this time. I recognize the look she gives me: hunger. Pure hunger for blood. I take it as a good sign as I press my wound to her waiting mouth before it heals.
Sophie relaxes a little and I can feel her tongue against my skin, gently prodding at the wound, asking for it to give her more. Her eyes close again.
I was going to tell her how to do this but I find that she already knows the way. I was worried that the wound would close too soon but she knows how to keep it open, gently sucking, then letting the blood trickle into her mouth. If she finds this display disturbing, she doesn’t let it show. She drinks, sighing, sinking into the calm that comes with it.
When she pulls away this time, I’m afraid that it hasn’t worked, but it’s different than before. She sits up immediately, pushing my arm away with one hand while covering her mouth with the other. Now I think that maybe something has gone off in her mind, the way it has so many times in my own while I was first starting out. You think about how it’s possible that you enjoy taking blood, life from another person. You don’t know how to cope with it.
She’s crying, shaking her head. She stares at the closing wound on my inner arm, and in order to keep her from getting more upset, I bend my elbow so she can’t see it anymore. When I try to move forward to touch her, she holds a hand up in front of her, so I back away.
Then I start to smell it: her blood.
“Hey,” I say quietly, moving a little bit closer. She’s too wrapped up in whatever she’s feeling to notice. “It’s okay.”
Sophie shakes her head again.
“It is,” I say, slowly cupping her chin in my hand. “Let me see?”
This causes her to shake her head yet again, pure terror crossing her face.
I stop her with the hand I have on her head. She looks up at me, her expression a mix of fear and something else that I cannot place. “Please?” I ask.
Her fingers curl around my wrist, but I’m not moving. I’m not going anywhere.
Gently, I use my other hand to pry hers from her mouth; she doesn’t stop me.
Her mouth is covered in blood. Some mine, some Evelyn’s, some hers. When she opens it, she doesn’t look at me, and at first, I can’t see if there’s anything there because her lips don’t part all the way.
I move the skin above the right side of her mouth and she winces. I already know what I’m hoping to find and when I finally see the small, sharp teeth resting above her canines, I let out a sigh of relief.
And Sophie starts sobbing.
I let go of her mouth, pressing her head into my body. I let her cry. I don’t know if she’s relieved, confused, or horrified, but I say, “This is good,” regardless. “It means it’s working.”
I make her look at me for a few seconds, wiping away tears with my thumb. “Do you feel sick?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Tell me what you’re feeling.”
She swallows. “Better,” she finally whispers.
I can’t help showing her a small smile, nervous that my own fangs will free themselves, but they stay hidden. “That’s good,” I say.
“And...” She blinks a few times, her eyes shifting around the room. “Calm. Not tired...but...content?”
I smile again. This all sounds right. “Good,” I say.
Suddenly, she’s bursting with tears again, covering her face with a hand. “I’m sorry,” she chokes.
I don’t know what she could possibly be apologizing for, but I want to comfort her. “It’s okay. This is normal.”
She laughs then. It’s the driest, most humorless laugh I’ve ever heard.
“Well, okay,” I say, trying to make the tears stop in exchange for an actual laugh. “It’s not normal. Just normal for us.”
Sophie sniffs up the last of her tears and gives me a shy smile. “Yeah,” she says. “I guess so.”
She lets me stroke her cheek with my thumb, kiss her forehead.
Her hand winds its way into my t-shirt. Something in the movement of cotton against my chest causes concern. “Do you need more?” I ask.
She freezes, like it hadn’t occurred to her. Then she nods, keeping her head against my body.
“Okay.” I know that she needs a larger amount of blood, and the only way to do that is to have her get it herself.
So she can’t over think it, I’m fast when I position her on top of me. He heart pounds loud and fast in her chest, threatening panic. “Calm down.”
My fangs nearly pop out right there but I take a deep breath, will them away.
“I want you to bite me,” I tell her.
Sophie pulls away. “I can’t.”
“You can.”
She shakes her head, tears peeking through the corners of her eyes. I take her in my arms, let her hide her face against me.
“You have to,” I whisper.
“I can’t do that, Myles.”
“I’ll teach you.” Gently, I rub her back up and down, hoping it provides some sort of comfort. “I’ll teach you how to do everything.”
She straightens herself out so she can look at me. I’m slightly relieved when there aren’t tears in her eyes. “You’ll teach me?” she whispers.
I nod.
“Will you teach me...how to be a good vampire?”
I cannot read the expression on her face. Maybe she doesn’t have one. Maybe it’s a combination of everything.
“If that’s what you want,” I decide on saying. “I can do that.”
She stares at her hands, pressed against my chest now. I feel the fabric of my shirt shift under her fingers. “You’ll teach me how to be a better vampire?”
I’m afraid she’s slipping away from me again, but when she looks into my eyes, she’s completely there.
“You’ll make sure I’m good at it?”
I don’t know what to say to her, so I just say, “I can try my best.”
She nods to herself, satisfied with my answer. I can’t help wondering if I’ve answered some unspoken question in her mind.
She takes in a few breaths. I can see the tips of her fangs are still out when she inhales. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, staring at my neck, the veins there.
“That doesn’t matter,” I say. “I want to get the blood into you as quick as possible. I’ll show you how to take pain away later.”
She blinks, but she’s staring at my skin. I know she probably won’t do it on her own. I have to help her along. A small push into the deep end. So I take her head in my hand and gently press it to my neck, just below my right ear.
Her breath hitches, her heart slams against my own chest.
“Myles,” she says into my throat. “I–”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “You just have to turn off your mind. Tune everything out. Like before.”
I hear her swallow hard against me. I want to say more to encourage her, but she doesn’t need my help. Her mouth is warm and wet against my skin, and my arms wind around her back. Through the cold sweat and salty tears, I can still smell her underneath. She’s still Sophie. The one I fell in love with. The only one I want; the only one I will ever want.
“That’s it,” I whisper low into her ear. “Just let your body do what it needs to do.”
I’m about to say more but a sharp pain stabs into my throat. It’s hard not reacting. If I react, Sophie will be thrown off. One second is all it would take to tear her concentration away.
When I’ve swallowed my gasp, I say, “Good.”
She doesn’t do anything but take what she needs for the longest time. I stroke her hair, I whisper encouraging words to her. I’m so happy that this is working that I feel
like crying but I hold that in too. Sophie grabs at my hair first, plunging her hands into it clumsily, feeling the rush of my blood in her body. She doesn’t seem scared or hesitant anymore. This is how it should have been the first time.
I start to feel the effects too.
My vision doubles. There is an incessant pounding in my ears, and I’m not sure if it’s my pulse or Sophie’s. A fogginess passes over me, and I have to blink a few times to push it away. Aside from the puncture marks, it doesn’t hurt. If it did, it would mean that she’s taking too much.
Just as I’m thinking that she’ll go on until I’m at that point, she lets go, slowly releasing her grip and moving away. She almost falls backwards, her head probably buzzing with the blood.
I catch her. “Hey.” I try to keep my voice steady, but I feel it too. My eyelids are heavy, my thoughts are becoming harder to form. “Just sit for a few minutes.”
Sophie opens her eyes and stares directly into mine. Through them. I can’t begin to guess what she sees there.
“Okay,” she says, a smile spreading as she falls back into me, her face against the middle of my chest. I wonder if she can hear my heart beating. I wonder if hers still does.
“It takes a minute or two to adjust the first few times,” I say. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Mhhhm,” she murmurs into me, sending vibrations across my entire body. My fangs must have come out sometime during the bite because I graze my tongue on them.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She nods. “I feel awesome.” Now that her voice is back to normal, I could almost pretend everything else is too.
I smile when I wrap my arm around her. I kiss her forehead without thinking. “Sorry,” I say.
“For kissing me?”
I shrug.
She slowly sits up. Before I can tell her to lie back down, her lips are on mine.
Something in the kiss is hungry, but it’s different than when she wanted the blood.
Then she looks up at me, her eyes their normal, brilliant green. “I told you,” she says. “I’m not trying to hate you anymore.”
“Still,” I say. “It doesn’t make what I did right.”
Sophie grasps my face with a hand. “No,” she says, “it doesn’t.” Her lips brush my cheek. “But you weren’t entirely wrong either.” She smoothes my hair out of my face now. “You were trying to protect me. I get it.”
“But–”
“No, Myles.” Her voice is soft, but it stops me. “I love you.” The words grab onto me, dragging me down, down, down. But it isn’t darkness that finds me, it’s her. It will always be her.
Chapter 16
Good as New
“Prove to me I’m not gonna die alone.”—The Antlers
I realize for the first time that it’s dark but not dark enough that we can’t see each other. Not that the dark is a problem for people like us. He lies down on the couch and I can’t stop myself from following. I’m tethered to him hopelessly. Forever.
Everything in the room looks fuzzy, and my head feels similar to when he bit me–marked me. Like it’s the fourth of July and I’m in the middle of the firework display, only instead of burning, the pyrotechnics fizzle against my skin.
We’re on a small sofa, made out of some kind of itchy, rough wool, and I have to scrunch my legs up to fit. Myles lets me position most of my body on top of his, so the fabric doesn’t irritate my hyper-sensitive skin.
“Are you okay?” he asks again. His voice comes out hoarse, he’s breathing heavily. When I press my ear to his chest, I can hear the mechanical sound of his heart, whirring and humming too fast.
“Are you?” Something sharp grazes my lower lip and it takes me a few moments to realize what it is. My new set of teeth next.
Myles nods, shifting under me so I can see him better. He’s pressing the fabric of his black T-shirt into his neck. “Do you want to know how to make them go back?” He gestures with his free hand to my mouth.
I nod.
He nudges my head back gently, his hand in my hair.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his fingertips gently spreading out and coming together on my scalp.
I nod again, too afraid to talk and end up biting my lip with my new fangs.
“Okay,” he whispers. “All you have to do is concentrate.”
My head is buzzing but it doesn’t hurt anymore, at least. My eyelids are heavy but I’m not tired. Not at all, actually. My muscles are relaxed but they feel ready. Ready to run a marathon or sit on the couch. Everything tingles, like I’ve been brought back to life for a second time.
“I know it’s hard,” he says, probably noticing how long it’s taking me to focus by how my eyes keep opening, my jaw keeps clenching. “It’s a lot to take in.”
I settle my head under his chin then close my eyes again.
“Imagine it happening,” he says. “Then make it real.”
I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that but I decide to start with just picturing it. Visualizing the new, foreign parts of my body disappearing. At first, nothing happens and a long time seems to pass before anything does. I picture it again. The hard, sharpness sliding back into my gums, out of sight. I imagine the holes they must leave when they come in, closing up. I concentrate so hard that I can almost feel it. Then all at once, they shoot back up.
And it hurts like hell. I grab at my mouth, thinking pressure will help. It barely does. My mouth throbs, my heart pounds.
Myles’ fingers stroke my hair. “You did it too hard,” he says softly. “But that’s okay. You’ll get better.”
He gently removes my hand from my mouth, placing it at my waist before he lightly rests his fingers above my lip. A small tingling washes through my mouth and then his hand is gone along with the pain.
“Better?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I’m brave enough to talk now.
He sits up slightly, causing me to do the same; I can’t tear myself away from him.
“Is it the same as before, when you bit me?” I have to ask. “Does this make me want to be closer to you?”
He shakes his head slowly, favoring his neck. I’m surprised it hasn’t healed yet. “The first time, it was because I marked you.”
I gulp. I forgot all about that.
“Are you going to explain why you did it?” I ask. I’m not mad, not even confrontational. “What that means?”
He takes his stained hand away from his neck. His shirt is soaked through with his own blood.
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask. I can’t help noticing he’s a little bit paler too. How slowly he’s moving.
Myles nods. “I haven’t been bitten as a vampire in a long time,” he says. “I also didn’t know how much you would take.” He stares at his red hand before looking up at me. “It takes us longer to heal if we’re low on blood.”
“Can I do anything?” I suddenly feel guilty. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says with a faint smile, and I can see that carved out crescent moon shape at the corner of his mouth. I haven’t seen it in so long. “I’m happy it worked.”
I smile as well. “Me too.”
He pauses for a long time. His eyes shut for too long when he blinks. “Do you think you could do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“In that fridge right there,” he says, pointing to the mini bar in the corner of the room. “There’s a Starbucks cup. Could you bring it to me?”
Though I’m not sure how coffee is supposed to help, I quickly stand up and retrieve it. When I sit back down, he takes the paper cup from my hands and rips off the lid, placing it on the end table near the couch. When I peer inside the cup, It’s blood that greets me.
Myles takes one long, slow, gulp. He closes his eyes for a minute, and when he opens them, he’s looking at me. “Thank you,” he says.
I can see his fangs now, the tiny points peeking out of his mouth.
He glances down at the cup. “We have to be careful
about how we keep our blood with us, especially when we travel.”
“You couldn’t disguise it with a better type of coffee?” I attempt a joke and I don’t feel like I’m forcing it, which is a good sign.
Myles laughs quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I wait patiently until he’s done drinking. I’m about to ask my question again, but he answers. “I marked you because I wanted to make it clear that no one else was to touch you,” he says. “And because it’s an important thing. It means a lot in the vampire world.”
“So if you didn’t mark me, another vampire might have thought they could bite me?”
He nods, setting the empty cup next to the lid. “And I wanted to be closer. I was going to ask...I know I should have explained it first. It wasn’t even my intention when I did it, not at first.” He looks into the cup before taking another sip. “It’s just that I care about you so much, love you so much, that it just sort of happened.”
I place my hand over the mark, the mark that is now a scar that I’ll have for the rest of my life. A life that’s going to be very long if no one kills me.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I meant to tell you.”
“It’s okay.” I grab hold of his hand. A faint part of Betrayed Sophie wants to not believe him, but New Sophie doesn’t even question it. I know deep down how I feel. I’m not going backwards anymore.
I rest my head on his chest again. The part of his shirt that touches my temple is damp. “You have blood on you,” I say. I can smell it on him too. Metallic but warm, like a blanket.
His hand travels to my back. “So do you,” he says.
I pull away so I can look down at my shirt. It’s brown at my collar bone then bright red from the middle up, turning brown around the edges as it dries. I’m guessing there’s more on my face and throat.
I slide my fingers under the hem of my top. Then I lift it up until it’s off.
Myles’ eyes bulge the tiniest bit. If I were still human, I wouldn’t have seen it at all.
Then he takes off his shirt too and nothing is uncomfortable. Everything fits together perfectly. I can see the mark I made on him, red, angry, and wet. I have to close my eyes because I feel my fangs pushing against my gums, threatening to come back out. I want to put my mouth there and kiss it until he’s clean. I want to press my lips to it and make it better, not bite him.
