She rattles off an address from memory that isn’t overly far from here. With my speed, it’d be a quick run and easy to get her there, but then she’d leave me—and I don’t like the idea of that.
“I-it isn’t much,” she stutters, shifting her feet, though I don’t understand what in this conversation could be nerve-wracking. “Kinda a shithole, to be honest. Anything nicer would cost too much. Anything closer to the major tourist areas would also betoo expensive, even at this time of the year. I just want to seesomeparts of this world, starting with our country, before I die.”
Death isn’t an option for her any longer. It’s not good enough for this girl. No, the strange instinctual urge to protect her ensures death won’t receive her soul ever in this lifetime.
She paces towards her shoes, obviously contemplating running. She couldn’t be less obvious if she tried. While the sun is up, I can’t stop her once she’s outside, which means not giving her the opportunity.
“It’s negative thirty-nine outside,” I state conversationally, keeping my tone flat so she doesn’t realize her own power if she steps beyond the door. Scaring her is the simple, less frightening manner to keep her here. “You’d freeze before you made it to your rental.”
Her scent sours with sorrow. Sadness is an emotion vampires lose with immortality. There’s nothing to be sad about any longer because we have the power to acquire anything we desire. Anything we lose, as our old lives fade away, simply becomes personal history. Being sad would make for alongexistence.
“How far away is the road?”
For the sake of shifting her scent back to strawberries and away from sorrow, I gesture to the left. “Ten-minute walk that way.”
She purses her lips and stares at her shoes. Her debate ends quickly when she shoves her feet into the boots and turns for her coat, draped over the couch arm beside the bathroom.
“Don’t go.”
Admitting how I can’t and will not let her go isn’t a proper way to begin forever. Better she willingly remains.
She slides on her coat, focused on the buttons “Why not?”
“Because it’s not safe.”
“And it’s safe in here?” Behind her hair, her eyes flick up and away quick enough to not have been an intentional glance.
“If I wanted to hurt you, why would I bring you here?”
“Because that’s what serial killers do. They show compassion to lure their victims in.”
“You’re not my victim.”You’re my prey.
A nervous chuckle bursts from the lips that hold so much of my attention. “I’m supposed to believe that? Thank you for your help, but I’m gonna to walk to that road, and then to the nearest town. If you want to help, you’ll lend me another layer.”
Giving her another layer will mean she’ll be better suited to surviving, and surviving beyond these four walls without me beside her isn’t an option.
She heads for the door and immediately tugs it open. A burst of air blows through the cabin, and with it, a strip of sunlight.
With her back to me, she doesn’t notice my speed as I dart across the room and slam the door shut with my palm. A growl tears up my throat, my teeth sliding free, threatening to sink into her neck and make sure daylight is forever unavailable to her.
Her pulse flutters, and her every nerve tenses. All her little mortal instincts demand she escape, while her brain slowly pieces together her new reality.
“You’re not gonna let me go, are you?” Her whisper grates at my insides because she has no reason to fear me. But it doesn’t change the loss of venom and conviction in her words.
“No.”Not sure I can.
Her head bows, hair falling on either side of that neck. If only she knew what she’s doing, offering herself up like this. “Because life enjoys knocking me down.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
That raises her head again. She turns it slightly. “Then help me leave.”
“When the temperature eases up, we’ll get you to town so you can figure things out.” It’s a lie, but it makes her drop her handfrom the handle and reins her conviction back to an acceptable level.
“Alright.” She removes her coat, then shoes, discarding both to the side before skirting around me and escaping to the couch. There, she lowers into the farthest cushion, cowers against the arm, and draws her knees up to her chest.
Only when my bodily reactions taper back to pretend-human do I turn, noticing the way she tightens her cardigan around herself.
