Page 107 of We Were Eternal Once

She is asking a question that I am unsure if I want to answer.

“Sorry, I’m on a tangent, I know. I was told I had ADHD when I was a kid. At the time, they thought only boys had it—joke’s on them. Looks like being made immortal didn’t change that part of my brain.”

I sit next to her on the couch, sinking into it. It’s deep and warm and smells like the ocean, like Skye.

“Is Skye your first name? Or did you get a new one when you were made?” I ask.

“My first name? Oh, my human name. Hah, no—it was Chastity. Like I said, real religious parents.”

“Which religion?”

“You know, that’s a fair question. Everyone assumes the default, that they’re Christian. But there’s a ton of religions, aren’t there?”

“Are they not Christian?”

“They are.” She grins, her gaze tracing my face, resting on my lips.

I kiss her, because I’ve been wanting to. I’ve wanted to know what her lips feel like against mine. I want to know how her body feels, how she tastes. I’ve been wanting to try her since I first saw her run from the cops, her dark blonde hair streaming behind her, a wicked smile on her lips.

She kisses me back. It is brash, it’s consuming. She bites my lip until it bleeds and groans at my taste.

“Fuck, Noë,” she says, her tongue tracing the spot. She crawls into my lap, her hips grinding into mine. Her shirt is off, her bikini top following.

I bite into the flesh of her right breast and she screams, her fingers knotting into my hair. Her neighbors bang on the wall.

“Ignore us,” I command, returning to lave at her blood. She tastes like the ocean and the sky and the sand and freedom. She tastes like all the things I’ve never known before.

She drags me onto the floor and we tangle in each other, our bodies writhing, our teeth and tongues everywhere. When I am between her legs, she clamps them onto my head, holding me captive, not letting me go until she comes over and over again.

She shows me positions and things I’d never seen before, never done before. Toys that vibrate, objects that she slides into me until I am gasping her name.

We are like that all night, until the sun starts to climb.

“Stay,” she breathes, unable to fight the pull of the sun. “I’m not done with you.”

I stay that night.

And the next.

And the next.

Skye ducks from the cafe, pulling her hat further down her face. As if that would disguise her from anyone. She does nothing to hide her dark blonde hair, knotted from the ocean salt that never washes out.

She turns down an alleyway, moving quickly.

We are supposed to meet for a dinner hunt in ten minutes. She’s going to be late.

Well, she would be late if I weren’t following her.

When she gets to our spot she lets out a breath, pushing her hat up her head. She smiles a bit, relaxing against the wall.

We have not left Ocean Beach in the last four years. Skye insists she’s not ready, even as the town grows larger and the tourists flood in the summer.

“This is where I found myself,” she claims. “I’m not ready to go into the wild, you know?”

So we stay.

She lets me upgrade us to a small beach home. She doesn’t know how I’ve secured it, though she’s asked plenty of times. I’ve only compelled humans in front of her once before, that first night we slept together. Her closeness to other vampyrs makes me wary of sharing the secret of the gift.