Just months before I start medical school in Boston, I decide to let loose for one night. A dark club, a loud band, strong drinks--and the attention of a dangerous-looking man who says he's in the city for only a week.
I know exactly what he is: a...
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FEBRUARY 21, 1986/Boston, Massachusetts
We stand there and kiss for what seems like forever, blocking everything out around us. The band, the people, the smell of the clove cigarettes mixed with the acrid fake fog coming off the stage—it's all muted and hazy. The music, loud and droning with heavy beats, surrounds us and seems to pound in time with my heartbeat.
What am I doing? I've never kissed a guy at a club. It's only been in the last year that I even go to clubs, and that was because Kerri had encouraged me to get out of the library and stop studying.
I don't know anything about this man. His last name, his school, his favorite band. He's a complete stranger and yet I'm throwing myself at him as if he's my last salvation, the only one who can keep me alive. All because of his kisses that are punishing yet seductive, commanding yet languid. Like we have all the time in the world to keep kissing here in the middle of this concert.
And worse, I want more. A twinge of shame twists in my gut, but forbidden lust wins out.
Matteo doesn't stop, and neither do I. We kiss and kiss, unable to get enough of each other. I'm usually reserved and shun male attention, except when guys work hard to get to know me. Even then, I'm fairly selective; Mother's admonishment to only get to know nice boys has always echoed in my mind.
The few guys I've dated in college, they've always approached me with reverence, hesitation, and sometimes, I let them in. But never too much—never all the way sexually—and never this soon. Never in this kind of public place; normally I'd be too shy and embarrassed.
But with Matteo, this stranger who might, possibly, could be a vampire (if my instincts are correct), I'm pouring my soul into this kiss. Pouring my heart into his flesh. In between songs, in the seconds that the band is quiet, a couple of people nearby make a loud, snide comment but we ignore them, because right now, this kiss is all that matters. My body's pressed into his and my arms are around his neck, while his hands are clasping my jaw with enough force that I can't move much.
I'm ignoring everything Mother has warned me—especially since there's a chance he might be a vampire. The more I kiss him the more I'm certain of this fact. His cool flesh in this now-steamy club, the eyes that flash scarlet for a millisecond when he seems to be hyper-aroused, the way he keeps trailing his nose and lips over my jugular on my neck. He feels foreign, and not just because he has an accent of some sort.
"You smell so fucking incredible. I've never smelled this scent before," he says, almost to himself, as his lips linger on the sensitive skin above my collarbone.
Can he smell my blood rushing through my veins? Oh, God, I hope so, as much as the idea terrifies me if he's what I think he is. I want him to lose control and take me, to fulfill my dream once and for all. Let's get this over with...
All signs point to vampire with Matteo. Plus I have a sixth sense that can detect these things, and alarm bells are going off in my brain like they've never done before. The warnings are to stay away, but my fucked-up-priorities are telling me to forge ahead and damn the consequences, no matter what.
