Page 86 of Alaska Lights

“Sunshine. Eat. Please. I’m okay. It was nothing, alright?”

“I’d check it out if it didn’t leave you vulnerable to threats.”

“As if I couldn’t handle myself.” I pick up the sandwich, and the bread looks homemade by the crust; there’s a toasting on the top that will provide the perfect crunch.

“You couldn’t handle yourself when it comes to a vampire hunter. They are highly skilled, trained, and natural-born killers. Killing vampires is literally embedded in their DNA. I thought the last of them were killed, but I was wrong.”

I take a big bite, the bread crunching under the pressure of my teeth just like I knew it would. A chimichurri sauce explodes in my mouth, paired with the pickled onion? I’m a goner.

Alaska doesn’t touch his food. He continues to stare into the trees, just waiting for someone to come out, his claws long and at the ready for an attack.

“What else do you know about them?” I ask around my mouthful of food.

“Not much. That’s the worst part. They have been quiet for a long time. I’m curious about what brought them here.”

“Let’s not worry about them right now.” I take another bite, needing to change the subject because knowing there are hunters out there wanting to kill my boyfriend—mate—partner—husband? I don’t know what to call him, but it terrifies me. “When were you turned? By who? Tell me everything.”

“I’m afraid there’s not much to know. Not really. I don’t remember much of my human life, naturally. Humans forget moments over their life, but I do remember the night I was turned. It was…” He ponders deeply, finally taking a bite of his sandwich. “Around 1826?”

“Holy shit. You’re old.” I choke on my steak. I knew he was over two hundred years old, but hearing the actual year? It’s a shock.

“You didn’t seem to think so last night,” he quips, smirking around his food as he chews.

“What was it like?”

He wipes his hand on his jeans, narrowing his eyes at nothing in the distance.

“You don’t have to answer. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s just been a while since I’ve talked about it. That’s all. I was dying from consumption or tuberculosis, as modern-day humans call it. It killed so many people back then. Long lifespans were hard enough as is. I was one of the oldest who finally got ill, but I wasn’t alone. I had a nurse named Anna who was very kind to me. She did her best to take care of me. With consumption, you either lived or died, and most of the time, you died.”

“Wow. I’m so sorry, Alaska. That’s terrible. I hate that you went through that all alone.”

“I’m great at being alone. It doesn’t—didn’t—bother me until now. I never want to be alone again.” He wraps his hand around the back of my neck. “I was ready to die. I was fine with it. Accepted it, but then screams bounced off the hospital walls. I mean, the blood-curdling kind. The ones that invoke fear.”

I lose the rest of my appetite, leaving the last few bites on my plate as I listen to him tell his story that he probably hasn’t said out loud in ages, if ever.

“Vampires were more villainous then and were a nightmare. Society had their superstitions. Garlic above the doors, holy water, silver, all that. Nurse Anna was a believer. I wasn’t. I thought the entire idea was ridiculous, and whoever believed it were idiots.” He snorts, turning a log with his bare hand, the fire burning his flesh.

Only for it to heal the second he pulled it free.

He continues on as if he didn’t just purposely burn himself. “But then Ceroes showed up with his coven. They fed off the sick and dying. I don’t know why he didn’t kill me. He turned me instead. I don’t know much about him. When I woke up, I was alone in the graveyard he created. Everything I know, I learned on my own, minus what he told me about fated mates.”

“Did you say Ceroes?”

I fall backwards when a cloaked figure appears in front of the bonfire. The blanket falls free, and Alaska speeds to cover me up again.

“Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. I didn’t see a thing.”

Alaska helps me up, and I see the skeletal figure covering his eyes with his hand, yet peeking out between his fingers with his empty eye socket.

Can he see me?

“Just kidding. I saw everything. Lucky man, Alaska,” he winks, or tries to.

I can’t tell.

“What the fuck?” I stand behind Alaska’s big body, peeking around his shoulder to make sure I’m seeing what I think I am.