“Yes, you did. Your hands were on me last night, and they protected me today.”
“Never laid a hand on you in anger. Never hurt you.”
Silence except for the faint drone of grasshoppers and my sniffling.
Giving up on getting through to him, letting my heart tear itself freely, I whisper to myself, “Yes, you did hurt me.”
He still carves. Shutting me out.
A whimper squeals out from me, pushing past the lips I try to hold tightly together.
The whittling stops. He turns and looks at me.
“How?” he asks.
“What?”
“How did I hurt you?”
Stunned, I say nothing. How could he have possibly heard me? It was barely a whisper, and he sits far away from me. Finally, I say, “You got my hopes up. Made me think you liked me—only to crush me now.”
He sighs, “I never promised you anything. Has it occurred to you that I might have nothing good to offer? That everything inside me is bad for you?”
“Isn’t it up to me what’s good for me?”
“You have no idea what’s good for you. Can’t be twenty years old yet, and you think you know what’s good for you,” he snickers—a cruel, forced chuckle with no joy in his voice.
“You promised me even though the world tries to pull us apart they won’t win.”
Looking away from me and toward the jagged spikes he’s piled up at his feet, “You shouldn’t believe everything a guy tells you in a bar.”
The exhaustion, the emotional strain, and the fear have taken their toll on me, but it’s the hurt that obliterates. Tears fall. All strength is gone.
His face is stone. Beautiful and cold. Can’t tell if his eyes are welling up like my own—tears blur my vision.
Magnificent.
Handsome.
Monster.
The saddest sound to touch my worn ears still eats at my soul two hours after it’s been silenced. I’ve heard junkies beg for a hit, promising disgusting favors, having sold all their dignity for that temporary rush. I’ve heard young widows wail at the loss of their husbands in war. I’ve even heard my own wretched cries when Eleni was taken from me.
None of them tore at me so violently as hearing her cry herself to sleep. Hunted. Endangered. Betrayed.
Maybe her cries hurt me most because I caused them. All the others were the result of tragedy. Cruel fate. Her cries were given birth by my harsh words. Her pain is my spawn. Inflicted upon her against her will.
Her sweet voice asking what she had done—assuming she had failed me in some way. It echoes in my head. Cutting deeper every time it repeats.
Her sad, green eyes on fire beneath her silky brown hair, melting from my words. Breaks my heart to think some of her sweetness may have been burned away forever. Hopefully, all of this will save what’s left of her. Even if it kills all that’s still tender in me.
She still sleeps.
Her slumber has grown deep, blanketed in the heavy peace of the moonlight filtering through the night air.
The same moonlight offers a dim illumination of her body. Staring at her closely for so long, the light seems to sparkle over every contour, especially along the slope of her neck as she lies on her side—her hands tucked sweetly under head—her hair spread out on the ground around her as beautiful as freshly-fallen, golden brown autumn leaves.
Voices scream in my head. I’ve fought them my whole life except for the past six months. Finally gave into the bloodlust and fed carefully on select girls, never damaging any of them more than leaving them a little lightheaded and lonely the next morning.
Fought it for so long. Decades. A marathon fasting that left me broken and bitter. Was strong for so many years, but not like this. Not like some psycho standing over her while she sleeps, staring at her, absorbing her beauty like a predator in the shadows, letting her dainty scent tantalize my senses and make my fangs ache.
Never had to stand guard like this. Taunting myself with an aroma I can only smell as a tease, never allowing myself to taste. It’d be one thing to shut her out, avoid her like hell, and try to keep my mind free of her body’s temptation. That would be torture enough. It’s quite another thing to have her before me, glistening in the moonlight, smelling as delicious as a fantasy, filling me with desire.
Her image is more than any pheromone. Her hot body rising and falling with each breath, throbbing with every heartbeat. She is more than a feast to a ravenous man, more than Aphrodite appearing to a shipwrecked sailor—lost and achingly alone on a deserted island.
It doesn’t help that I haven’t fed in days—it was two nights before I met Ruby when I last satisfied the craving. The healing has taxed my body—the fights have left my muscles sore. Fighting off whatever the hell they put into me with that needle has eaten away nearly everything left in me. Every part of me screams to be rejuvenated. Just a little taste would relieve so much anguish. Just a quick embrace at her neck would silence the grinding voices in my head.
She twitches in her sleep—I can see the blood pulsing under delicate human flesh like a scarlet ghost beneath a thin sheet of glorious skin. It’s like I can see another version of her just beneath the surface, shimmering and otherworldly, calling me over with a beckoning finger.
I quietly step toward her, until I can lean down and put my face the closest distance from her cheek. The temptation rages inside me. Mind races for any excuse to dive into her. It’s some insane irony that my desire for her as a person only adds to the need to taste her as a prey.
Even in sleep, she makes my body ache in agony.
I can’t take it. Losing control. Her wiles fill my mind clouding everything else. Stumble away from her—eyes closed.
Arch my back at the night sky that illuminates beyond the treetops, throw my hands to my head, and scream, “No, I won’t do it!”
Her flesh jumps. Her eyes flutter. I’m still not free.
Shut my eyes and scream again, “Never! Won’t do it!”
When I finally let my eyes open, Ruby sits, legs crossed in front of her and her arms wrapped tightly across her chest.
“Wh-what was that about?” her chin shakes as she speaks.
“Bad dream,” I say.
She looks entirely unconvinced and uncomforted.
I continue, “Forget it. Lots going on lately. Took a beating today—of course, I’m going to have bad dreams. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”
Her face looks troubled, and she squirms.
“I told you I’d be fine. Don’t worry about it and go back to sleep.”
I can see her blood pulsing through her exposed arms and neck. Every pulse of her heart makes the shape of her lovely body glow in my eyes, like she’s wiggling every part of herself before me. Her neck a hot, illuminated crescent. I slam my eyes shut, trying to shake the temptation off. Straining to block it all out of my mind.
Leaves and twigs crackle close to me.
Panic flings my eyes wide open. She’s within an arm’s reach.
“I told you to go back to sleep,” I say roughly. Correcting my tone to something softer, I add, “You need to rest after what you’ve been through. We may need to run at any time.”
“I—I, uh,” she says looking everywhere but my face.
“You need to go to sleep.”
“Okay, alright, I will,” she hesitates, “After.”
“After what?”
“After I take care of something.”
“What? We’re out in the middle of nowhere—what could you possibly have to do?”
“I—I just need to do things.”
“What things, Ruby?”
“Private things.”
“Look, I know I hurt your feelings earlier, and I’m sorry that that’s just the way it’s gotta be, but you have no idea how much danger you’re in. They could’ve followed us. Could be waiting out there—right in the darkness. Looking for the one moment that I fall asleep or let you out of my sight. You need to take this very serious—”
“Shut up! Shut up!”
Her voice is so urgent that I obey instantly.