Page 48 of Abiding Blood

“No. I’m fine. Really.”

Vincent nodded and wandered off, leaving me alone, presumably to do whatever he did at night. My heart was still pounding, and I took a deep breath to try to ease the knot in my stomach that formed every time Vincent was near. It was going to be a long winter.

Over the next three days, I tried not to think about feeding every time I looked at Vincent. I tried not to stare at his lips when he talked, not to imagine the teeth behind them, and not to remember his gentle touch every time I looked at the vampire’s long-fingered hands. But as the time neared for Vincent to feed again, I was wound so tightly I thought I might break.

25

VINCENT

In the days that followed that first feeding, I watched Julian closely. I tried to gauge how he was doing and how he felt, both physically and about our arrangement. As far as I could tell, everything was going relatively well. Julian was nervous around me; it showed in his voice and in the quickening of his heart when we were in the same room. But since that first feeding, there hadn’t been any meaningful glances or overt attempts to advance our relationship. Still, I was on edge. So much depended on the delicate balance within the household.

The third time I fed from Julian, it was different.

As I sank my fangs into Julian’s delicate skin and the blood welled into my mouth, I realized I’d been right to worry. Julian was still nervous, his heart racing, but I sensed what he felt wasn’t fear. Desire was thick in Julian’s blood, its flavor giving me a heady rush and awakening other suppressed hungers. If I needed more confirmation, it came when Julian placed his hand on my head. He brushed against me, running his fingers through my hair, pulling apart the long, wavy locks. This was not the touch of a friend.

I finished feeding, closed the wounds, and tilted my face toward Julian. He still held strands of my hair between his fingers. Reaching up, I took Julian’s hand and placed it gently back in his lap, meeting his gaze. Julian stared at me intently; the hunger in his eyes was fierce and unmistakable.

“No,” I said softly. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I couldn’t encourage this either. “It can’t be that way between us.”

Julian blinked and looked down, his face flushing crimson. Disappointment warred with embarrassment on his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He started to stand from the sofa, ready to flee.

I placed a hand on his knee, and he stopped.

“Julian, please look at me,” I said.

Julian met my gaze, and the emotion on his face made me pause. Everything he felt was laid bare. At that moment, I was tempted to apologize, to tell him I was wrong, and to take him in my arms. Anything to mend what I feared I’d broken in the beautiful man and to comfort him. But reason won out. It was neither safe nor wise to go there.

“I don’t mean to hurt you,” I said. “I care for you, of course. I just don’t⁠—”

“I understand. I read this all wrong,” he said, interrupting me. “You don’t need to apologize. It was my mistake. It won’t happen again.”

Julian brushed my hand away and left the room, retreating to the bedroom he rarely used.

I stayed there in front of the fire, fairly certain I was completely screwing this up. My intentions were good; I was trying to walk a fine line between being helpful and giving Julian his space, offering kindness without being overly solicitous. Solving this puzzle was exhausting, and despite all my calculations, I was failing.

But this could be exactly what we needed. Now that the boundaries had been drawn, things were bound to be easier. I would wait it out. Julian would get past this. As far as Julian knew, it was a misunderstanding, and that would be the end of it. Yes, this was a good thing, I told myself. We only needed to maintain the balance until the snow melted, and then we could decide how to proceed, how to survive all that was happening, and how to try to make a life out of what remained, whether separately or together.

But I was mistaken. There was no balance. Instead, a new tension had formed between us. I tried to make gestures of friendship, but kept stepping where I shouldn’t. Actions I thought would please Julian, like a fresh stack of firewood or a stove for his room, only seemed to frustrate him even more. I stayed in my room most of the time, believing I couldn’t anger Julian if I wasn’t around. This was also a mistake. Things were coming to a head. I only hoped I could figure out how to make it right when things finally blew up.

26

JULIAN

Iwas a fool, an absolute fool. How could I have done that? Why? Why had I reached out and touched him? My chest ached, and all I wanted was to sleep and escape this feeling. But sleep wouldn’t come. I lay awake on the sofa in the very room where I’d humiliated myself. If only I could close my eyes and float away from the memory of Vincent’s firm, clear rejection. I’d never been so mortified.

I told myself I was stupid to think Vincent would want me too. I promised myself I wouldn’t bother him with my feelings, but I couldn’t help it. The moment Vincent’s mouth touched my skin, I felt such a connection to him, such closeness. My feelings had overridden my better judgment, and I’d been convinced that Vincent must feel the same.

What an idiot.

Well, now I knew for sure. I should feel relieved. No more wondering. I could, and should, move on and accept the situation for what it was: a temporary inconvenience. A solution to a problem for both of us. I needed extraction from a dangerous location, and Vincent needed sustenance. Just temporary, I reminded myself. I could handle it.

We probably had a couple of months before the snow melted. But then what? We would leave, find other people, and part ways? I wasn’t sure. Vincent had promised to take me wherever I wanted to go. But where was that? I had no plans for what came next. It seemed impossible that life would ever return to any semblance of normalcy, but I had to find somewhere to live, a community to belong to, somewhere to try to build a life. I’d survived; others like me had to be out there.

But what would happen to Vincent? Where would he go? Back to the others of his kind? He seemed sincere about not wanting to live the way they did. I found it hard to imagine Vincent, with his old-fashioned sensibilities and cultured manners, living like a brute, hurting people. He claimed he wanted to find a different way, but what would that mean in the long run? Would he want me to be part of that? If he did, could I handle it? Could I be that close to him, allow him to touch me, feed from me, without feeling the way I did now? I was being absurd again. Why would Vincent want me around if he could find other, less complicated options?

I rubbed my chest, trying to focus on the present. Who knew what the future held? My entire life had narrowed to this house on the side of the mountain. There was no one else left for me. No one was waiting for me. It was shocking to think there might be no one in the world who even remembered me. Vincent’s rejection only deepened my loneliness. Another wave of shame and misery swept through me. I shifted, trying to distance myself from those feelings and find some comfort.

Flopping onto my back, I took a deep breath and tried to think of other things—anything else to distract myself—when Samson jumped onto the sofa. He walked across my legs and settled into a warm ball on my stomach, his weight pinning down the snaking worry that wormed through my body. I ruffled the cat’s fur on the top of his head. I still had Samson, the only real thing left from my past life, my sole constant in all this madness. Petting him soothed me and quieted my mind, and soon I drifted off to sleep, my troubles momentarily forgotten.