The house is enormous; an overly large living room, a large dining area and a very long hallway that has a lot of shut doors. I wonder what is behind those doors; if they are normal rooms or torture chambers or something.
"There's something else I need to tell you," he says as he comes to a stop in front of one of the shut doors. He turns to me and there's uneasiness in his demeanor.
I sigh. "Let me guess, unless you kill me right now, the world will explode." What can I say? I'm tired.
He confines a smile. "Well, I'm glad your sense of humor hasn't left you," he says and I pull an intolerant face. "Relax; it's not about you this time. It's about Laylen, the guy who lives here." He points up and down the hallway. Then, he crosses his arms. "He's not human."
"If he's not human, then what is he?"
He scratches the back of his neck as he mutters, "A vampire."
I stare blankly at him. He has to be joking. There is no way vampires can really exist. Can they?
He steps toward me cautiously with his hands at his sides. "I know what you're thinking... I can see it written across your face. That there's no way vampires are real, but they're about as real as Death Walkers and you've seen those with your own eyes."
My eyes drift to the end of the hall. Light spills through the glass just above the door and creates misshapen reflections across the floor and walls. I could run away and pretend that this madness never existed. That the last few hours are a dream, which they easily could be, but I've seen too much; know too much. There is no way I can go back into the dark again and live my life just as it was. I've changed. Everything has changed.
"You're not thinking about running again, are you?" Alex asks.
"No, I was just thinking about stuff." I glance back at him. "Does he bite?"
Alex's jaw clamps down. It takes him a moment to answer. "No, since he was a Keeper before he changed, things work a little differently... He's more in control of his blood lust."
"Blood lust?" I've read about vampires, seen them portrayed on television shows. Some of them are depicted as sexy and their blood lust even sexier. I wonder if this Laylen guy's blood lust—should it ever emerge—will be sexy and feel good? I'm probably wondering too many things about the subject. I cover my mouth and cough to clear my throat. "And what about vampires that aren't Keepers to begin with? What are they like?"
"Let's just hope you don't ever have to find out," Alex says, then turns the doorknob and shoves the door open.
The room is bigger than the one we just left, but there's a lack of windows. The dark red walls are bordered by bookshelves and there is a long, mahogany table in the middle of the room with eight antique spindle-back chairs around it.
Aislin is in one of the end chairs, texting on her cell phone. When she sees us, she jumps to her feet and meets us in the center of the room. "Oh, good. I was just about to come get you. Did you get everything taken care of?"
Alex looks at me and then back at Aislin; I can sense something is up. "Yeah, I guess. Well, as much as I could."
Aislin sighs, patting her phone against the palm of her hand. "I can't get ahold of Stephan. It goes straight to his voicemail."
"That's odd," Alex mumbles, staring at the spot on the floor in front of his feet with his eyebrows dipped. "Did you try Marco and Sophia?"
"Yeah, they didn't answer, either." Aislin checks her cell phone screen. "Something's not right."
"Why do you need to get ahold of Marco and Sophia?" I intervene.
"Because they might know where Stephan is," Alex replies uncomfortably. "They're pretty close—Sophia, Marco and my father."
"And yet I've never met you before," I say. "Which seems a little bizarre."
"Isolation," Alex counters placidly. "They wanted as little familiarity as possible around you."
I just stare at him. There are no words. No coherent sentences that can explain how he can talk so casually about something so significant, at least to me.
"What?" he wonders. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because you're so..." I rack my brain for the right word. "Nonchalant about stuff. It's weird."
"And you're emotional about a lot of things, which is weird since a few months ago you couldn't even smile," he retorts, inching toward me. "You want to share any insight to that?"
I stand tall, posture straight, and my feet firmly planted to the floor. "Care to share why you're so calm? Why you can talk about my painful past as if it's a piece of dirt on your shoe."
"I don't share anything with just anyone," he says, again calm, and my hand itches to slap him.
"And vice versa." I clench my hands into fists and hide them behind my back, attempting to keep my own cool.
"But yours is important to share." He takes another step, diminishing more space between us.
I match his move and get right in his face. A floodgate opens, releasing a waterfall of emotions that severely want to wipe away the last hour or so. "In order for me to want to tell you anything, I have to trust you and, right now, I don't. It's that simple."
His eyes blacken and his voice lowers as he leans in. "You trusted me pretty damn well back at the cabin."
My hand starts to rise, to either hit him or shove him—I'm not exactly sure. I never find out, though because Aislin steps up and mediates.
"Maybe we should try calling them again?" she suggests. "It doesn't hurt to try."
Without taking his eyes off me, Alex nods. "Yeah, go ahead and try." He pauses and Aislin begins pressing buttons on her phone. "Do you know if Marco and Sophia were going somewhere? Like on a vacation or something."
I'm so stunned, I can't blink. "You do realize that I barely talked to them when I lived with them. After I moved out, we've talked on the phone maybe, like, three times."
"You were over there that day I ran into you." His hand digs around in the pocket of his jeans for his phone. "Did they say anything then?"
"Yeah, they said to get my shit out of my room," I state with bitterness seeping thickly from my throat as I gather loose strands of my hair and put them back into place. "And to never ask questions about my parents again. I'm guessing that neither of those things screamed that they were planning a vacation anytime soon."
"Gemma, this isn't a joke." Alex huffs an aggravated breath and puts the receiver up to his ear. "It's important. Your life, the world's life, depends on it."
"Oh, I know it's not." Carefully lifting my arms up, I take the elastic out of my hair and refasten it so my hair is in a secure ponytail. "I was being serious, Alex. The extent of our relationship makes sense to me now since I know," I gesture my hand in front of me and heave a breath, "everything."
He clicks the end button and stares wordlessly at me. I hold his gaze, unwavering, until the fiery connection becomes too much, then I look away and focus on a small piece of artwork on the wall. It's splattered with blues and reds and there is a grey, stone castle in the background that has a familiar look to it. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm just pissed off about... all the bullshit."
I hear Aislin's breath catch and Alex shakes his head, looking at her. "What? You knew she was like this when we enrolled in college, it was the reason why we enrolled."
"Yeah, but..." she glances at me with wide eyes. "She's so bad."
"You know I can hear you, right?" I shake my head and turn for the door. "I need some fresh air."
As my hand wraps around the doorknob, Alex's fingers encircle my elbow. He hauls me backwards until my back is against his chest. "No wandering off alone." His arm snakes around my waist, while the other pins my arms against my chest.
My breathing comes out in silent gasps. "Is that another rule?"
"Of mine? Yes. It's called the rule of not getting yourself killed."
I slant my head back to look him in the eyes. "I just need some fresh air. This is a lot to take in."
"No wandering off by yourself," he repeats, his gaze skimming to my lips.
"I'm not a child," I remind him. "Now, if I want to step outside for two Goddamn minutes, I will." I take a deep breath and then force my arms forward, hoping he'll yield because there is no way I'm getting away by myself; he is just too strong.
His arms unstiffen and I move out of his hold; his hands sliding down my arms and along the back of my shirt as I step away.
"Stay close," he says softly as he releases the hem of my shirt.
Without looking back, I hurry to the door before he changes his mind and decides to make it difficult. Once I'm out in the hall, I free a tension-filled breath that I've been suppressing for the last few hours as I head for the front door. I'm not sure what my initial plans are other than to get away from Alex and Aislin's bluntness. They have a way of making me feel like I'm not real, like I'm a magical sword, instead of a human. It's not my fault that I'm harboring a star inside me.
When I'm outside, I know I'm not going to run away. Besides the obvious fact that I'm surrounded my limitless desert, and I have no idea which direction will take me home, I'm also scared. I don't want to die like I have in my dreams countless times. Alex and Aislin seem to know stuff that may help me stay alive and I want more answers about my past, my future and who I am. I want to know more.
I sit on the front porch as I take in the events of the last few hours. I have a cut on my side, blood on my shirt and a star inside my body. I glance over my hands and arms, then up each leg. I don't look different or anything, but I feel different. That's a given. Each day I feel different because each day I change inside—I grow emotionally. Sighing, I try to relax and clear my head. The desert air is intoxicatingly warm and the grey sky is ornamented with a few stars. I probably could stay here forever; and pretend nothing exists, besides me and the night sky.
"It's peaceful out here, right?" a deep, sultry voice drifts over my shoulder.
My muscles tense at the unacquainted person's arrival. I rotate my body and scan up his very long legs, his firm chest, all the way to his eyes, which are ocean blue and entrancing to look at. I've seen those eyes before; I've seen and felt all of him before. He's the blond stranger that makes a frequent appearance in my dreams.
His features are more striking in person and he reminds me of a singer in a punk rock band. The tips of his blond hair are dyed blue and sweep across his forehead and down across his ears. A silver ring threads his deep red bottom lip. He has on a black t-shirt, black jeans and black combat boots. Greek-like symbols are tattooed on his forearm, inked in black with thick lines.
He smiles softly as his gaze lands on my eyes. "You know, the last time I saw you, you were maybe four-years-old." He glances down at my chest making all the feelings from my dreams surface and steam across my skin. "You've grown up a lot."
I rise to my feet with my eyes on him. He's taller in person because I'm not very short myself and he makes me feel downright diminutive. "Who are you?"
He laughs. "I take it you don't remember me." He sticks out his hand. "I'm Laylen."
My expression falls and my eyes expand as I step down a couple of stairs, undecided if I should stay or flee. Am I afraid of him? Or curious? "Laylen, as in the owner of this house?"
He lets his hand fall to his side. "Awe, I take it, you do remember me, at least, through what Alex has told you." He says Alex's name with such disdain that there has to be some bad history between them.
I feel bad because he clearly knows me and I can't recall a single detail about him besides my dirty dreams, which never happened. Or have they? I'm beginning to wonder about my dreams and their insightfulness.
I decide I'm not afraid of him and step back up onto the stair above. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember you. I just recognized the name because Alex and Aislin told me the owner of this house was named Laylen."
He moves down so he's on the step right in front of me and I have to kink my neck just to see his eyes. Up close, I note the sadness in them, deep pathways that show the scars conjoined with his heart. I want to hug him, which is strange because I'm not a hugger, but he looks so sad. "And they told you I'm a vampire."
I nod. "They did."
He waits. "And?"
"And..." I'm uncertain what he's waiting for me to say so I stick out my hand cordially. "It's nice to meet you."
He snorts a laugh and it makes me laugh, too. It's the most bizarre moment in a long sequence of bizarre moments because it's normal. I don't even know him, besides the fact that he has a very warm tongue and slightly cold skin, but those facts are solely based on my dreams.
Smiling, he shakes my hand and his skin is like frost on a window. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Gemma, or should I say, meet you again?"
"How do you know me?" I wonder. "Is it because of the Keeper connection?"
His shoulders lift as he shrugs. "Yes and no. We also knew each other when we were young, but it might have been too long ago for you to remember."
I search my brain for a memory of a blond hair, blue-eyed boy, but there's nothing except darkness. But that's a common occurrence whenever I try to remember something from my early past. "I'm sorry, I don't. I wish I did." He seems doubtful. And miserable. It breaks my heart to see. There's no way an evil vampire could carry so much misery in them. "And I mean that."
We smile again and then he squeezes my hand. Why are we still holding hands? It's odd, yet, I don't pull away. I just continue to stand there and grasp onto his long fingers that feel like popsicles. It's mind-boggling, but it makes sense to my body because I want to cling onto him in any way I can. I'm attracted to him. Obviously. I understand that much, but there is also something else; something stronger and compelling.
"You want to sit down and talk?" he asks, looking me in the eyes and I nod.
We release hands and take a seat on the steps next to each other. He leans against the railing and I recline back on my elbows, feeling a sense of comfort. The porch light radiates into the night and casts shadows across the stairs. We gaze at the desert, listening to the crickets chirp. I can make out the constellation of Cassiopeia up in the sky and a revelation hits me. Is that where my fascination with stars comes from? Maybe I subconsciously knew about the star inside me? Perhaps, I knew that a piece of me belongs up in the sky?
"So," Laylen finally breaks the silence and there's acrimony in his tone. "How's life been with Marco and Sophia?"
"It's been okay, I guess," I mutter and fix my gaze on him. "By your tone, I'm guessing, you're not a fan of them."
He laughs as he stares up at the stars. "I'm not a fan of Keepers in general."
I take in his profile; the slight crook in his nose and the firmness of his jawline. "How come?" I crack a smile. "Well, besides the obvious fact that they're liars."
"That they are," he agrees, encountering my gaze. "I'm guessing Alex hasn't told you my story."
"Story?" A bug lands on my arm and I swat at it and then wipe my hand on my jeans.
"The one where I was kicked out of the Keepers circle because I was turned."
"They kicked you out because you're a vampire?" I'm astounded. "Why? You don't seem evil?"
"Don't I?" he questions with a penetrating look. "Because a lot of people sure think the opposite."
"I don't think so," I disagree. "Alex even told me that you have your blood lust under control." The word lust sounds funny leaving my mouth. He seems to think so too, because he can't seem to take his eyes off my lips.
"Alex is just telling you that to impress you," he says, sucking his lip ring into his mouth. "He doesn't really believe it."
"I doubt that," I say, but it sounds like a lie. "You don't like Alex because he's a Keeper?"
"It's the other way around," he answers. "Alex doesn't like me because of what I am and I choose to return the feeling."
I bite my lip and drum my fingers on my knee. "Yeah, Alex seems like he can be..."
"An asshole," Laylen says and grins when I look at him, but it's a plastic smile. A fa?ade to cover up his real feelings.
"I was going to use the term douche bag," I clarify. "But yeah, asshole works too... Why is he like that? He told me it was because he was moody."
Laylen shakes his head disagreeing. "It's because of his father."
"Stephan?"
"Yeah, he's put it in Alex's head since we were kids that you have to be unattached and unemotional in order to be a good Keeper," he says and then mutters, "Like he would even know himself."
"You don't like Stephan?" I ask. "Isn't he a Keeper?"
He shrugs. "Being a Keeper doesn't mean anything, Gemma, regardless of what Alex tells you. You'll be able to determine for yourself what you think of Stephan when you meet him, but I'm guessing you won't like him. Most people don't." He leans back on his elbow. "And just because Keepers claim to protect the world, doesn't mean that they're good people."
Silence encircles us along with the warm air as I try to sort through the colossal volume of information I've received. While I dither in my thoughts, Laylen keeps tracing his tongue along his teeth and biting on his lip ring.
Finally, curiosity gets the best of me. "What makes you a vampire exactly?"
He bites at his lip ring again, making these sucking sounds that drive my body into a fitful frenzy and I have to sit on my hands to stop myself from touching him. "What do you mean?"
What is the correct way to ask someone how they are considered a creature of the night? The living undead? A bloodthirsty monster? Albeit, a sexy, undead monster. "I've read a lot of books about vampires," I start. "But nothing factual. So I don't know what to believe about vampires and the things they do."
He rubs his hand along his jaw thoughtfully. "You want to know what makes me a monster? Whether I bite? If I'm a killer, or if I drink blood? If I can run at an inhuman speed or if I have super-human strength?"
"It sounds like such a stupid question when you put it that way." My lips quirk. "But, I guess that's what I'm trying to ask, minus the whole killer thing. Because I don't think that."
He elevates an eyebrow. "You don't think that I'm a killer?"
I shake my head. "You're not putting out the whole 'I'm-a-demon-and-I'm-going-to-kill-you' vibe, so I'm guessing no."
"Well, you're the first to not pass that judgment on me." He crosses his lean arms and observes me, and it only makes me feel more in tune with him. He isn't going to hurt me. I can feel it in every bone of my body and through the way the sensation of heat unites rhythmically with my pulse. "You're right," he says definitively. "I'm not a killer. I've never killed anyone; at least, that I know of."
A strange answer, but one I decide to tiptoe around, for now. "But other vampires are?"
He nods with his eyes secured on me as if I'm the most fascinating creature in the world. "Other vampires are a lot like what you've read and I'm not talking about the ones who drink blood by killing animals. These ones like to kill people; they get a thrill from it."
A chill crawls down my spine as the image of splattered blood paints the inside of my brain. "I don't get it. If people are dying because their blood was drained, wouldn't the news mention it? Wouldn't everyone in the whole world know vampires exist?"
He uncrosses his arms, swings them over the railing, and pulls himself up so he's sitting up straight. "Haven't you ever noticed that a lot of people turn their heads away from the things they don't want to see? Besides, people are excellent at keeping secrets from one another. If the right people don't want the world to know that vampires exist, then they won't know."
"Right people, as in the Keepers?"
He nods. "You're catching on quick."
I cup my hand on the side of my head. "I'm surprised I can think at all. It's been an overwhelming day."
"I bet it has." His gaze roams to the front door and the light reflects in his eyes. "Do you want to go inside and lie down? You could take a nap or something."
I'm still stuck on the fact that he's a vampire. "Do you sleep?"
He looks at me with an amused glimmer in his eyes. "You're still on that, huh?"
I lean forward and relax my arms on my knees. "I've always been into the supernatural and now I have a real vampire right in front of me. I'm not sure I'll ever be off it."
He smiles, I smile back and there's that link, bonding us together again. "I'm immortal." He traces his long finger along the tattoo on his forearm.
I scoot closer. "So you can't die?"
He lowers his arms from the railing. "Nope, not unless I'm staked through the heart or decapitated." I scrunch my nose and he laughs. "Am I freaking you out yet?"
I shake my head. "Nope. You'll probably figure out really soon that I can take in the crazy quite well."
He brings his knee up and places his foot on the step between us and overlaps his fingers around his knee. "I'm also stronger than the average person and I have fangs."
His teeth are flat, white, and smooth. "You have fangs? Where?"
"They're retractable," he says and slides his tongue along his lips. "And I only bring them out when I want to."
I think about my dream and how he bit me. Curiosity sparks inside me. "And when do you want to?"
His body goes rigid. "Let's hope you don't have to find out."
I want to find out, though. In fact, I crave it, like a dying plant craves water. Not because I want him to drink my blood and kill me, but because I want to see if it feels the same as it did in my dream; intoxicating and potent. "What else can you do?"
He bites back a smile and shakes his head. "You're a curious thing, aren't you?" He analyzes me with a tilt of his head and then his eyes shade to a dark blue. "You really want to know?"
I nod because curiosity is spilling through my veins like a drug. "I do."
His gaze lingers on me for a brief second longer and then he glances at the door before scooting closer to me. He tucks a strand of my hair out of my face and then traces a line below my eye. "Shut your eyes."
I'm thrown off a little by his touch. "What?"
He draws back his hand, sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and his lip ring slips between his teeth. "Shut your eyes and I'll show you what I can do."
I glance at the desert and then at the house. Do I trust him? Even though I hardly know him, I do trust him, but I don't understand why. Leaning back against the step, I inhale a breath of the warm air and then let my eyelids slip shut.
There is no movement, no softness of his voice, and no sounds of a dying animal he might be devouring. I almost open my eyes to see if he's left, but then I feel him shift closer and the temperature of my body begins to dwindle as his body hovers over mine, barely touching, yet each one of my nerves attach to him.
"I feel guilty doing this to you," he whispers against my neck. "I feel guilty doing it to anyone really, but you have this really curious, na?ve look in your eyes that makes it really hard to say no." I feel his lips brush my neck, soft and moist, and the sensation seeps down into my skin, spilling into my body like liquid ecstasy. Under no control of my own, I fall back against the steps. An arm quickly winds around my waist, his hand cups the back of my head and he holds me up. I want to open my eyes and look at him, but my eyelids are sealed shut.
"There's this thing," his lips graze my collar bone and warmth centers to my heart and stills it, "that not all vampires can do that's called venenatorum osculum." The way the words roll off his tongue sounds sexy. It makes my thighs tingle and my body arch up against his chest. "I can manipulate things inside you." He kisses the hollow of my neck and my entire body stills; paralyzed with a yearning for him to fill the massive hole in my heart, which seems to have enlarged severely over the last few seconds.
"I can put feelings in there; make you feel things you never knew existed," he whispers and his mouth lingers above my chest. I want it on my chest. I want him on me. I want so much at the moment. His voice lowers and grows ragged. "Or I can take it away."
"Please don't take it away," I nearly beg as he pulls the collar of my shirt aside. I curl my toes preparing for whatever he's going to do, hoping it will fill up the void inside me.
But then I feel him tense, his fingers and mouth move away from me, along with his body. My eyes open as he guides me upright. He isn't looking at me, but at the front door, which is wide open and Alex is standing just outside of it.
He looks pissed. Well, pissed is kind of an understatement. He looks infuriated; his face red, his fists clenched, his eyes dark and his arms crossed so tightly in front of his chest that the lines of his muscles are showing. "Are you two having fun out here?"
It's one of those moments where I know it's best to lie. "Not really. We were just—"
"Oh, I know what you were doing." He jogs down a few steps and Laylen rises to his feet. "Having fun teaching her about vampirism? I guess you two skipped right past the introductions."
"Technically, we already know each other." Laylen is a little taller than Alex and his legs and arms are lankier. "And maybe, if you would have explained it to her, then I wouldn't have had to. She doesn't seem to know anything about our world."
"You know why that is." Alex shuffles forward and I can feel the tension in the air like a viral disease; I feel bad for putting it there. "She's not supposed to know."
"She knew I was a vampire," Laylen points out. "And she had questions, so I answered them."
Alex's fists tighten and his jaw twitches. "More like showed her and broke a ton of rules."
Laylen leans forward and anger flashes across his face, which is mixed with pain and anguish. "Those are the Keepers' rules and, since I'm not a Keeper anymore, I don't have to follow them."
Alex grits his teeth and Laylen steps around him, his long legs skipping over a few steps as he heads for the house. I remain on the steps, unsure of what to do. Should I follow Laylen? Go inside? Stay here?
I start to move for the house when Alex turns and looks at me, or looks through me anyway.
"Go inside," he says quietly and even though I'm not a fan of his bossiness, I obey because it looks like he'll crumble if I so much as utter a word.
