the ground, and I can no longer see either of them.
Two of the longest minutes of my life pass—my body threatening cardiac arrest at every second of it.
Simon stands, shirtless. He flings the body of the attacker on his shoulders, back first—his stomach wound visible to me now. I see the beast breathing. In a blur, Simon runs through the trees in the direction of the road where we hid my car beneath branches and piles of pine needles.
I stare between the trees, hoping I’ll see him coming back to me. My mind plays frantic games, convincing myself I see him coming in the distance—the wind blowing a branch far off must be him returning safely—the moonlight on a tree branch must be his body peeking out the rough as it sprints back to me. Each false sighting increases my fear. The greater the fear, the more I imagine. Thoughts and fears spiral—feeding each other.
I hear the snap of twigs behind me. I can hear someone breathing heavily before I can turn around.
Shirtless, glistening in a thin layer of sweat, his heart races—pumping his veins rapidly through his muscular torso. Even the muscle lines in his stomach pulse. Girl, look up. Look at his face.
He has a small fingernail wound on his left shoulder that already has stopped bleeding and is beginning to heal.
He is drenched from head to toe—his long hair soaked and dripping. Far too wet for sweat. Did he go swimming?
Finally my words come, “Are you alright? Where did you go? You almost killed me—didn’t know if you were alright or—”
“Dead? No, not tonight.”
“Why are you wet?”
“I—uh, had to rinse off. There’s a stream not far behind us.”
Thinking back to him nabbing the attacking vampire just inches away from where I was squatting, blood rushes to my face. My stomach feels flooded with humiliation, and my chest feels like the wind has been knocked out of me.
“Are you alright?” he asks. Touching my shoulders, “I was sure I got to him before he reached you. Are you okay?”
The intensity of his voice touches me. I swore just a few hours ago to shut this jerk out of these parts of me— now he’s back in there, awakening my emotions again, making me feel so alive—so special—so aware of how badly I’ll feel if he turns on me again.
Suddenly feeling appalled, “If you weren’t supposed to be looking at me, how’d you know he was coming? Were you watching me? Did you come closer after I told you to stay put?”
“No, I stayed where you told me, but I had to watch the area around you. If I had spotted him a second later, Edgar would’ve been on you before I could stop him.”
“Edgar? You know his name? Was he a friend of yours?” I ask in a shout.
“No, no. Edgar’s no one’s friend. He’s a miserable blood junkie. More than the rest of us. Can’t be trusted with anything.”
“Then why’d you let him get away? Why’d you bring him back to the road?”
“Because I need to get some information from him tomorrow night.”
“You just said you couldn’t trust him—that he’s nobody’s friend. What makes you think he’s not going to bring all of them here right now?”
“I promised him something. He won’t say a word until he has it.”
“What did you promise him?”
“Just something that he can’t live without,” he looks into my eyes, “Trust me. You won’t see him back here tonight.”
Feeling scared. How can Simon be so sure? Something about what he said bothers me. Oh,
“You shouldn’t have seen me out there tonight,” pointing back to the place where I was squatting. “I know you were trying to protect me, and thank God that you were watching because that’s when that monster came at me, but it’s just…you know…it’s… horrible…”
The crying starts. Don’t know how much more I can take. People trying to kill me. My love rejecting me coldly. The humiliation. Too much. Has to come out. Tears flow.
His voice has a soothing tone that I haven’t heard from him in hours, “Look, look, listen to me.”
He shakes my shoulders gently to try to get me to look up at him. He leans down and puts his forehead against the top of my head. Can’t bring myself to look at him. My eyes are on his defined stomach, but my thoughts are hanging on his words.
“Not to make you feel self-conscious, Ruby,” the sound of him saying my name comforts, “but I do have heightened senses—hearing and scent way beyond what you know.”
All comfort slips away from me. Humiliation is about enough to knock me down.
He continues, “You’d’ve had to walk twice as far as you did to really be away from me, and then I couldn’t have protected you.”
I feel like a seventh grader who has laughed so hard she peed her pants in front of the whole class.
He says, “Look, it’s not as bad as dying, right? If you’d have gone further away, you wouldn’t be here at all now.”
I shake my head slowly in agreement, the top of my head against his forehead, my chin against his chest.
“Hey, I’ve been this way my whole life—I’m used to it. It’s nothing new—can’t shut my senses off.”
“So, what? You’re a life-long perv? Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No,” he says, leaning down to look into my eyes, “Just trying to say there’s nothing wrong with you.”
I raise my head halfway to look back at him.
Unfair. Moonlight filters through the trees and lands on his face. He opens his lips to speak. His fangs shimmer, speaking to me before his words come.
“You…are…painfully…gorgeous.”
He steps closer—my body follows as if pulled. Hand slides over my neck. His eyes close, pulling mine shut with them. His lips press against mine. Like no other touch. Tingles shiver through my body.
His other hand finds my waist and pulls me to him. I feel his heartbeat pulsing into my chest.
The rush spreads through me, tingling everywhere, igniting feeling through my body that has been lying dormant for so long. Every second between last night and now was a terrible waste of time. The euphoria of my lips on his is just as strong as it was last night.
His tongue melts me completely. The emotion so hot—boiling through me.
He pulls back shaking his head, his eyes clenched shut.
Having trouble finding the breath to speak, I struggle to ask, “What? What is it?”
“I…I’m sorry I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have…”
The retreating of his affections and the fear on his face make me feel like my lips are the nastiest he’s ever tasted. My emotions are beyond stretched tonight.
Simon’s mouth starts to move again, “I—I—”
My voice cracks as I try to speak. I raise my hand in front of my face and say, “Save it.”
Turn and walk away from him. No tears—beyond crying this time. Anger. Hurt. Bushes and underbrush scrape at my ankles, unprotected by short socks.
“Ruby, wait.”
I walk slower, but keep walking away.
“I meant what I said,” he calls after me again.
I stop walking, but I don’t turn around, “Actions speak louder than words, Simon.”
“That’s what I’m trying to show you.”
I turn to face him, my arms flinging through the air before I speak, “Then, show me, Simon, but so help me I can’t take this up and down crap anymore. Tell me how it is, and stick to it.”
Walking toward me, he says, “You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry…I don’t know how to tell you how I feel around you—it’s like there’s this energy. Never felt anything like being around you. Your skin, your eyes, your lips. Once I saw you, there was no one else at the bar for me. No one else anywhere. When I was kissing you, I felt new again. This body’s seen decades come and go. Several generations rise and fall. Felt so old—so numb for so long. Never thought I’d feel fresh again. Free of burden. Until you. You wiped it all away—made me feel again where I’ve
