Page 100 of Blood Lovers

“Syrsee?” I don’t say it loud, I just want to know how sleepy she is. Apparently very, because she doesn’t make a sound or move another inch.

Good. I want her to sleep. And I’m gonna hit the gym. This is the first morning in months where I didn’t wake up sweaty and it feels amazing.

I go searching for my clothes, absently trying to piece together what we did last night. Sex, obviously. But I don’t seem to be able to conjure up the details. When I reach the living room, I stop short and stare at it, confused.

Am I in the right place? Because last night when we got in, I could’ve sworn those brown leather couches were actually cream.

I shake my head and just go pick up my clothes, pull my pants and shirt on, then find my boots across the room.

My jacket is where I left it, so I shrug it on, take one last look at the bedroom, listening for noise, then leave. Quietly closing the door behind me.

The sun isn’t up yet so the entire resort is aglow with amber lights. I love walking this place in the dark. I love the steam that wafts up from the little streams, and the way the wooden walking bridges sound under my boots when I cross them, and the way the trees creak from the snow load. And every once in a while, if I’m in the right place at the right time, there’s the howling of wolves across the valley when they take down a kill.

That doesn’t happen this morning, but the rest of it is all the same.

The gym is a standalone building near the main hot springs pool. It’s made entirely of glass, lit up because there are already several people inside. A couple of guys lifting together, a woman on the elliptical, and a few joggers on the track that is really a three-story ramp that winds its way around the inside of the building from top to bottom in a never-ending wave.

That’s where I’m heading when I come out of the locker room dressed in a pair of sweats with the North Star logo on them and my old running shoes that have been here since the place was built. They’re total shit, but I don’t care. I love running and the urge to do it today is so strong, I’d run barefoot if there was no one here to see me.

I run until I’m warm, but I don’t break a sweat.

This is how it used to be. Back when I was young. The heat almost never touched me and it feels so good. It reminds me of how it must’ve felt to be human.

Then my mind drifts to the dream I had. Syrsee in an apron. I chuckle as I continue running. Hey, maybe this is not unusual for her. For all I know she’s got a whole collection of aprons and is a top-notch chef. But the apron wasn’t the only thing about that dream that bothers me.

She was pregnant.

And even though it was a dream—and it wasn’t purple or hazy, so I know it really was just a fucking dream—I find myself feeling jealous of some unknown someone. Because that child in her belly is not mine. None of those children were mine. I am sterile. This is what it means to be a scion. I am something in between. Something impure. Something never meant to procreate.

I simply exist for the pleasure of Paul.

I finish the last lap on the track and head back to the locker room. There are more people here now, maybe two dozen, and the locker room is packed. I enter the private shower suite that only Paul and I can use and kick off my shoes and step out of my sweats as I walk.

There’s a really nice shower in here. And even though I’m kinda planning a sexy shower with Syrsee, the thought of going outside in that freezing January weather when I’m already in a cold state isn’t appealing.

I want heat.

I turn the hot water on and step back from the steam just as my phone buzzes on a nearby shelf. I walk over, study the screen, roll my eyes, and accept his call. “What?”

“How are you feeling?”

“What?” I snap at Paul. He just annoys me. I can’t help it.

“How. Are you. Feeling.”

“Fine. Why?”

“Why?” He’s chuckling.

“What do you want?”

“Did you sleep well?”

“What the fuck is this?”

“Why are these simple questions so hard for you this morning?”

“Why are you calling me so early?”