“This is amazing,” Michael said, breathing heavily. Ronan lifted his head from the cleft in Michael’s chest. “And this is just the beginning.”
Outside their window, Nakano watched. Brania had suggested he give Michael and Ronan a night to get settled, to become complacent, but Nakano never liked taking orders from a girl. Girls think, guys act. So for the past hour, he had been watching, and finally the time had come. He knew what was happening. He knew how Ronan smelled when he was excited; he had smelled it many times before. Well, once or twice, and never as pungent, never as strong as it was now. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Michael obviously stirred a fire that lay deep within Ronan, a place Nakano never touched, never even knew existed. For a moment, he weakened, remembering how much he enjoyed being held by Ronan, being where Michael was right now. But no. That was the past and this is my future. My future is not with Ronan; he has made that perfectly clear. My future is with Them, my kind. And as soon as I destroy your future, Ronan, mine will begin.
Before he lifted one foot, however, Nakano saw it coming. The fog, soft and gray, materialized out of nowhere. “No! Not again!”
The small cloud of gray mist swirled in front of the door of St. Florian’s, moving almost in slow motion, teasing Nakano with its laconic approach. But as expected, it quickly expanded, fanning out toward the sides of the building and up toward the sky, gaining momentum with every second until the lower half of the building was engulfed by the thick gray fog. Nakano thought his head was going to explode. This is not happening to me again! Not when I am so close to showing everyone what I’m capable of!
Using all his preternatural speed, Nakano raced toward the fog, determined to break through it this time, crash through this aberrant barrier, this abnormal obstruction, and enter the fog so he could pull Michael away from Ronan before he could start the transformation. But when he hit the cloud, it was as if he hit a brick wall. He heard the bone snap a few seconds before he fell to the ground.
His left arm went limp as he tried to push himself off the ground, and once again he was facedown in the grass. For a moment he thought he could circumvent the fog by crawling under it, but it appeared to tunnel down into the earth. The fist that he could still use, he slammed into the ground, burrowing a hole a few inches deep. “What the hell is going on?!” He looked up just in time to see Ronan’s window vanish as the fog continued its rise, not stopping until the whole of St. Florian’s disappeared into the night.
Eyes half closed, Michael didn’t notice that moonlight was replaced by shadow. All he noticed was that it had been several minutes since he had kissed Ronan’s mouth. He grabbed a handful of hair and brought Ronan’s head to his so he could set things right; he needed to taste him. He also needed him to make a vow. “Promise me this will never end,” Michael panted. “Promise me it’ll be like this forever.”
Ronan felt the familiar tingle in his mouth. “Is that what you want, Michael?”
His eyes are so bright, it’s like they’re shining, Michael thought. “Yes! Yes!” Closing his own eyes he continued to explore Ronan’s body in the darkness, knowing that release was so close, so near.
“I will not let you win!” Nakano bellowed at the fog that stood between himself and his destiny. He grabbed his left wrist and twisted his arm, bones creaking loudly, then he twisted it in the opposite direction. He clenched his fist and bent his elbow, good as new.
Running a few yards back until he reached the sprawling oak tree, he made another sprint toward the mist. This time, however, instead of trying to break through, he jumped up, hoping that the top of the fog would be easier to penetrate. He was wrong.
When he was a foot above the fog’s highest point, he leapt forward, but instead of falling through the cloud, he found that the top was just as dense as the section below. Standing on top of the fog, he knew Ronan and Michael were less than ten feet below. Incensed by the unexplained phenomenon, Nakano howled into the night with the force of a banshee because he knew that he was too late.
Filled with the pureness of love, Ronan held the back of Michael’s head tightly and followed The Well’s command, followed the command of their own hearts, and plunged his fangs into Michael’s neck. Michael’s eyes opened wide as he gasped in ecstasy, clawing at Ronan’s back, his shoulders, as a violent burst of passion ripped through his body and odd visions flooded his brain.
Image after image passed over his mind’s eye. He was standing naked before an ocean; he was diving deeper, deeper, deeper until the blue water was almost black; he was drinking from a well, kissing Ronan, pressing his hand against his. What was wrong with his hand? It didn’t look normal.
In Ronan’s mind, however, everything looked perfectly natural, even though the images were new, never before seen. Michael walking down a hallway in Two W by himself, Michael sitting next to an old man in a pickup truck, Michael alone in his bedroom in Weeping Water, Michael looking out the window at the flooded path that separated him from his destiny. Then the sun shining intensely, the path dry and clear, Michael walking, walking, walking toward something, his eyes bright, his mouth smiling, parting to reveal chiseled fangs, stopping only to embrace Ronan, to pierce the smooth white flesh of his neck.
Another shock wave flooded Michael’s body. He couldn’t believe the power of the sensation. And neither could Ronan. The blood tasted sweeter and more intoxicating than any he had ever tasted. Warm, free-flowing, and exquisite. Because he wasn’t just tasting Michael’s blood, he wasn’t just feeding, he was acquiring his essence, all the emotions, all the history, every intangible quality that made Michael special, so he could offer it to The Well. He was tasting Michael’s soul.
When it was over, the boys shivered in each other’s arms. Neither one knew how to express what he was feeling, so they just held on to each other, both wondering how in the world they ever got so lucky to wind up in each other’s embrace. Their sleep came quickly and was deep and uninterrupted.
But when Michael opened his eyes to the morning light, he felt them burn, and then his body started to convulse, and he knew something was terribly, terribly wrong.
chapter 20
“Ronan.”
The name escaped Michael’s lips like a plea. He tried again to open his eyes, but the second they met a piece of light, they burned like they were on fire. “Ronan!”
Hearing the fear before the words, Ronan woke up and instantly knew what to do. He shut the blinds, blocking out the sun’s rays, cursing himself for not doing it last night in preparation for this morning, but he had forgotten. It was just that last night was so thrilling, so unexpected even for him, the connection between him and Michael so strong, that it truly was more powerful than anything he had ever felt before, and he forgot to make the proper preparations. But their night of passion was behind them and today there was work to be done.
Frightened, Michael tried to sit up in bed but felt weak. It was as if the room, with him in it, was spinning downward, spiraling down a well, to some place where it was dark and cool. “Ronan, I think I’m sick,” Michael said, barely able to get out the words, his throat so dry. “Take me … take me to the infirmary.”
Rushing to his side, Ronan clutched Michael’s hands, his beautiful, immortal hands, and told him he wasn’t sick; this was all part of the transformation. What did he say? Michael couldn’t quite hear him. “No … no, I’m not right.” He paused so he could gain the strength to speak further. “My eyes … and my throat.”
“Don’t be afraid,” Ronan said, wiping a bit of sweat from Michael’s brow. “It’s completely natural.” Rummaging through a drawer of his dresser, Ronan found his sunglasses, the same pair he wore when he was first converted, and placed them on Michael’s face. “There, that’ll help your eyes.” He kissed Michael’s cold cheek but could feel the fire just beneath his skin. “It’ll be over soon, trust me.”
The sunglasses did help. He felt the burn leave his eyes, but sunglasses? Why did he need to wear sunglasses in November? Wait … this wasn’t the first time. Where else had he seen people wearing sunglasses? Nakano! Yes, Nakano wore them for a few days, said he had an eye infection from his contacts, but there was someone else. Michael felt something being pulled down over his head, something soft. Ronan was dressing him. His hands felt so good. “You need to stay warm,” Ronan told him.
Michael felt his leg being lifted, sweatpants being tied around his waist. How sweet; he’s taking such good care of me. “I am warm,” Michael said. “Inside.”
“You need to feel warm on the outside too. Believe me, this feeling is only for a little while. It won’t last very long.”
