“You’re mysterious! You have no digital footprint! You materialized out of nowhere not too many years ago! What was I supposed to think?”
“That I was a creature of the night with a ‘complicated relationship with sunlight,’ apparently.”
“Sage was the one who suggested vampire. I was leaning toward spy.”
“Sage.” His expression flickers. “Please, she can never know.”
“I know. We established that.” I sigh. “She’s going to be insufferable about predicting this, even if I can never confirm it.”
The next hour is a blur of bathroom floor, cool cloths, and Julian’s steady presence.
He doesn’t hover. Doesn’t fuss. Doesn’t ask if I’m okay every thirty seconds like some people would—like the act of checking in is more about their own anxiety than your wellbeing. He’s just there. Refilling my water glass before I realize it’s empty. Adjusting the cloth on my forehead when it warms. Offering quiet words when I need them, and silence when I don’t.
At some point, he disappears and returns with a small tray—crackers, ginger ale, a banana. Resort room service at midnight. I don’t ask how he managed it. Probably compelled someone with his vampire mind powers, or whatever.
“Do you have mind powers?” I ask, accepting the ginger ale. “Like, can you control people?”
“It’s more like powers of suggestion. Like being hypnotized. I’ve never used it on you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Good. I’d be annoyed.”
“Noted.” His mouth curves. “Any other vampire questions while we’re here?”
“So many. But my brain is too fried to remember them right now.” I take a sip of ginger ale. “Garlic? Holy water? Crosses?”
“Myths. All myths. Perpetuated by vampires who thought it was funny to watch humans wave crucifixes at them.”
“Vampires have a sense of humor?”
“Some of us. The older ones get a bit dour.”
“Um, you’re like over two hundred and fifty years old.”
“I like to think I’ve retained my charm.”
I snort. “Modest, too.”
Eventually, the nausea fades enough that I can contemplate standing. Julian helps me to my feet, keeping one arm around my waist even after I’m stable.
“Bathroom floor isn’t the most comfortable,” I observe.
He watches me take another sip of ginger ale. “How do you feel?”
“Less like I’m dying. More like I was recently dead and I’m now being resurrected.” I manage a weak smile. “Progress.”
“Interesting choice of words.”
“Too on the nose?”
“A bit.” But he’s smiling.
He carries me to the bed. I’m too exhausted to protest, too wrung out to do anything but let him tuck me in. He finds my pajamas without asking—the soft cotton ones I packed for comfort, not seduction—and leaves them on the pillow, turning his back while I change.
“You could look,” I say, fumbling with the buttons. “You’re my boyfriend. And also a vampire. I assume you’ve seen things.”
“I have.” His voice is warm. “But you’re exhausted and sick, and the first time I see you isn’t going to be when you’re too tired to enjoy it.”
“Gentleman vampire.”
