What was I doing?
Had I really just begged a vampire to kiss me?
A monster.
One of the creatures responsible for taking every person I had ever loved away from me.
I had, and the second I opened my eyes and realized he had left me standing there alone posed for a kiss, I kind of wished he had just killed me instead.
The rejection burned in my chest, sending the peaches in my stomach spinning.
What had made me do something so stupid?
It had to be the sugar and the peaches. I’d had peaches before once when I found a tree with fresh fruit on it, but I never lost my sense of reality, which I had to assume was what had happened to me.
It was his questions about whether I had lived. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I hadn’t lived at all, and those thoughts made something shift inside me.
Sure, I was breathing, and my heart was beating, but knowing the dead man in front of me had lived harder and better pushed me to do something so ridiculous.
And to be honest, I was embarrassed.
This man was supposed to be my killer—he was supposed to be the thing that sent me to the place my family was—yet he had somehow become more. In a way, he was becoming like a friend.
I think.
I wasn’t sure since I had never had a friend. I only knew he was making me feel comfortable, mentally and physically, and he hadn’t tried to kill me yet.
I had never been so satisfied.
I had never been so clean and comfy.
I had never been so at peace.
He stayed in his room after that, leaving me alone to roam his massive condo. I contemplated running, but I knew he would be standing beside me before I could even unlock the door.
So instead of running, I napped on the couch, enjoying the comfort of the soft cushions and the warmth of the blanket he had given me.
It wasn’t long before he was coming out and joining me in the rest of the condo once again. Still, we didn’t talk much. Mostly, he read, and I sat around waiting for something to happen. The place was suffocating me, and the boredom was overwhelming.
“Do you think maybe I could go in your collection room and look around? My mom used to tell me stories about the past, and I’d love to look at some of your treasures.”
He nodded, his eyes never reaching my face. “You can go any place in my condo as long as you don’t leave. It’s not safe for you around here.”
That was laughable.
It was officially safer to be stuck inside with a vampire than it was to go outside.
“Am I safe in here with you?” I asked, suddenly feeling rebellious.
“You’re safer with me than you are out there,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the window.
“Where are we exactly?”
There was no telling. I had been knocked out during our trip to his place. We could be in another state for all I knew.
“We’re just inside the city.”
“I get that, but which city?”
He chuckled. “How long do you think you were knocked out for?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I know your kind are able to move pretty quickly.”
His eyes finally scanned my face, and it was then I noticed his eyes weren’t as red as usual. If anything, they looked blue.
“My kind,” he repeated as he shook his head. “We’re in Atlanta. We didn’t go very far.”
“Your eyes.” I pointed at his face.
“What about them?”
“They aren’t as red as usual.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he flipped the page of the book he was reading and looked down at the page.
“Why is that?” I pushed.
“It’s the hunger. When my craving is at its worst, my eyes turn red.”
“Your hunger is gone away now?”
His eyes met mine once again, his expression turning grim with sadness.
“My hunger never goes away, but it’s more manageable today.”
I nodded, understanding that he did indeed still want to feed on me, but I appreciated him not doing it even if there were moments when I wished he would just get it over with already.
“You said your mother used to tell you stories of the past. Does that mean you like hearing history?”
I nodded. “I do. I’d love to know more about the world before…” I stopped, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with the conversation.
“Before vampires took over and killed everyone?” His brow quirked with his question.
“Yes.”
He closed his book, setting it on the table next to his chair. “You know, I’ve been around a long time. I could tell you about it if you’d like.”
I sat straighter, suddenly feeling excited to hear the stories he had stored in his brain.
He chuckled at my obvious happiness.
“Come,” he said as he stood. “I’ll show you and tell you all about it.”
We ended up in his collection room, and I sat as he pulled out old trunks full of newspapers, magazines, and books.
He showed me newspaper clippings from the past. Major stories like the first black president and the first female president. He showed me stories about the war between countries and new inventions. Things I had never even heard of.
But it was the light-hearted stories I liked the best. Reports on the times when things were fun and carefree.
Festivals.
Holidays.
Birth and marriage announcements.
The stories that made me smile.
Soon, I found myself looking through old catalogs and sales papers. Flipping through an old furniture magazine, I stopped at a page with the most beautiful bed I had ever seen.
It was wide and looked plush; a canopy rose above it reminding me of all the nights I had slept under a large oak tree in the brush. The canopy was black as the night around me with intricate carvings in the wood.
I closed my eyes and pictured a home with my own bedroom. And inside that bedroom sat the bed in the catalog full of fluffy pillows and warm blankets. Covered in clean sheets that smelled like the soap in his shower and smooth like the feel of the crisp cotton shirt I was wearing.
“What’s making you smile like that?” he asked, pulling my attention from the sales paper.
I held it up, the paper rustling.
“This bed. It’s gorgeous. I think if I ever had a bed, I’d want one just like this.”
His brows pulled down low just as I set my attention back on the paper in my hand.
“Surely, you’ve had a bed before?”
I chuckled at the disbelief in his voice. “Nope. I’ve never lived anywhere for more than a few weeks.”
He grew silent, prompting me to look up at him. His eyes scanned my face, the blue dominating the red.
“What?” I asked, feeling exposed the longer he stared. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
He shook his head.
“No reason.”
He left me in the room alone after that, allowing me to plunder his historical treasures and put together the pieces of a past that sounded more appealing than my present or future.