Page 57 of Before We Burn

I should knock, but I have a reputation to uphold. I turn the knob with confidence, and when I enter the room I’m left stunned—like I’ve never seen a partially naked man before.

Benny stands in the room, backlit by the setting sun, with a towel wrapped around his waist and steam rising from his back. I’ve seen my fair share of naked bodies, all different shapes and sizes, but Benny…he looks like he was carved from marble by the ancient Greeks themselves. He’s muscular—not the six-pack pretty type, but in the way you know he eats whatever he wants and does whatever he pleases, and his physique is a benefit from his everyday lifestyle.

The light shines around him in its final moments, outlining him in a radiant glow. His honeyed skin is illuminated by the sun, his hazel eyes twinkling at me, leaving me stunned. But it is the smile that makes me stutter over my words and forget what I came here for. I hate that he has this effect on me. I want to be softer around him, to listen while he talks and rest my head on his chest as I fall asleep. It’s something out of a story book—ones that have been forgotten and the feeling of yearning lost with them.

Quick gratification—that’s what humans want, maybe even vampires too. Our lives aren’t guaranteed anymore. There is always this possibility it could all end in the blink of an eye.

Benny raises a brow at me, my silent spiralling more obvious than I would have thought. The sound of his voice trickles through the fog, and I realize Benny had been talking the entire time.

“What did you say?” I ask, defensively.

“I asked what I could help you with.” His tone is laced with confusion, and I can’t fault him for it. I’m being strange. It’s so unusual that a person, let alone a human, would make me this nervous.

Benny looks at me like I grew ten heads, and I have to quickly recover. I step over the threshold, each step sure and true as I take in the different colorations in the room, trying to slow my thoughts. All the walls are grey except for one dark blue wall with gold accented light fixtures. I sit on the bed, making sure my posture is perfect and my face expressionless. I don’t want him to see the brief panic in my face.

“What do you know about Everett?” I ask, intensely. There isn’t room for small talk, especially since I embarrassed myself.

Benny turns around, picking up a towel from a chair nearby to dry his hair. The muscles along his ribs flex, and a flash of a smile nearly blinds me. He throws the towel on the bed next to me, shrugs his shoulders, then leans against the wall.

“If you ask him, he’ll tell you. You don’t have to talk to me to get information.”

I look down for a moment; Benny’s desires are nothing like my own. Mine are lustful, full of forbidden thoughts and touches so tender my toes could curl. But Benny just wants to hear me talk. Spend time with me. I feel it as clearly as I see his comfort.

I shake my head, my hair falling over my shoulder to shield my face for a minute of solace. I take a deep breath before I look up again, tossing my hair behind me so the long, straight strands trickle down my back.

He moves closer and stands over me, his eyes tracing my bare shoulder. My voice comes out sultry as I say, “Everett is emotional—and a liability. Going to him with any question of his past would cause him to be more insufferable. So, I’m asking. What do you know about your friend?”

Benny lets out a short and airy laugh, his focus shifting entirely to my lips. Those hazel eyes beam down at me, forcing me to shift uncomfortably. I want nothing more than to rip off that towel and see how mouth watering he truly is.

“He doesn’t remember much, but he would scream for someone named Saxon in his sleep. When I asked him who that was, he had no idea.” He takes a step to the side and sits next to me.

He must’ve tied that towel tight, because no matter what movements he makes, it won’t fall off. A fucking pity if you ask me.

“Why do you want to know about Everett?” Benny asks.

I want to tell him I think his friend is a liar, but I don’t think it’s appropriate. Not when he is the only family Benny has left. Regardless of what terrible shit they have seen each other do, they can both understand the pain of being alone.

“I need to know certain things.” The answer is vague and leaves room for more questions, but I hope he’ll let me have this. I don’t have it in me to start that conversation.

“Well, I don’t have much to tell you. Everett has no recollection of most things from before his family died. Like I said, the only name I have ever heard him say was Saxon.” Benny shrugs, turning his attention to the wall.

I don’t press him further and we sit there for a moment, a semblance of familiarity nudging at a memory. The name Saxon isn’t typical in this time period. That was an old name, a name given to nobility and passed down for generations.

“Everett’s last name is Hill, right?” I ask, even though I know the answer. I just need confirmation. The last thing I want to do is be wrong and make myself look as insane as Bunny. Even though she has a perfectly acceptable reason to be insane.

Benny nods, his attention back on me as his desire flows from him, meeting mine in the middle. His desire has shifted, the once-conversational needs turning lustful, encouraging my own lust to grow thicker, stronger.

I fight it though, pushing it down deep. I have to figure out this puzzle, and that means doing the one thing I said I would never do—revisit my memories.

Once you get to a certain age, memories don’t bring you joy. They’re haunting. You want to purge your mind and forget them all together. I can’t tell you exactly when it happened, but I felt the shift when I was around seven-hundred years old. My memories are locked away somewhere deep in my mind—in a place I can’t access unless I really push and try.

There are things hidden there that no one knows—at least no one living. My vampiric life didn’t start out with rainbows and sunshine. I have no happy stories to offer, just misery and helplessness.

When I was turned, my gifts were discovered and no one wasted time using them. I was brought to the council, their faces blurred due to the distance of my memory. They sent me on missions. Missions of lust and pleasure. It was always to ensure the progression of vampires, until it wasn’t.

This day in particular, they sent me to a young man's house who had just turned eighteen. I remember his golden hair and piercing blue eyes. I remember his clammy skin on mine and his mouth trailing bites on my arms that I never asked for. I was supposed to turn him into a man that day, but I think I witnessed the beginnings of a monster.

I think harder, remembering every graphic detail of that night until it was over and I was in his bed. He stood on the opposite side from where I lay and two light knocks echoed from the door.