Page 32 of Vameer

My Little Human needs me to remain calm.

I can do this for her.

Gravito seeps out of me. Thickening as it twists itself around my body. Calming the storm building inside me.

The Irishman presses back against the door, my gray smoke having the opposite effect on him.

He may know about vampires, but it looks like sentient gravito is still a rarity.

I rein in my power, and the ground stills beneath us.

And I accept the truth.

I knew time had passed.

Knew I had messed up.

But… the enormity…

I guide a wisp of gravito down my arm as the rest dissipates.

It circles my wrist, wrapping my mate’s bracelet in a layer of protection.

“So, uh, how long were ya sleepin’ for?”

I exhale. “One hundred and three years.”

“A hundred!” The man leans forward, forgetting his fear of me. “How?”

“It was a mistake.” There’s no point in pretending otherwise.

He reaches up and presses his hands to the sides of his head. “One hundred and three years. That’s… fucking nuts.”

This fool is going to light his hair on fire. Again.

I lift my hand.

My gravito is back to its standard invisibility, so the man doesn’t see it dart between us.

It pulls the cigarette from the man’s hand and deposits it in my own.

He gapes at me.

“Fucking nuts,” I mimic his accent. Then I take a drag off the cig.

The shape is basically the same as I remember. But it smells, tastes, and feels different.

He grips his hair as he lets out a slightly hysterical laugh. “This is fucking nuts.”

I don’t argue. Because it is.

“That why you’re in that getup?” he asks.

I look down at myself.

The too-short robe.

The ancient belt.