Page 13

Does fear turn her on?

Or is it me causing this visceral reaction in her core?

Perhaps it is both.

I resist the urge to stop at the cemetery, slip my hands between her legs, and test just how wet she is with my knowing fingers. Even though the thought of seeing her gasp beneath my touch is taking over every intelligible thought in my head.

“I told you. Somewhere safe.”

I move quickly, and she presses closer, holding me tighter. Humans aren’t used to moving at this speed and, by the time we reach the mansion, she is even more pale than she was before.

We are on the outskirts of the city. Here, the sky is clear, and the stars shine brightly.

I set her down on the steps. She wavers for a moment, then braces herself on the door and vomits onto the threshold.

I put my hand on her back. Her skin is warm. Her breath moving fast, up and down. Her curls tease my fingertips, flowing loose over her shoulders.

When she looks up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her glasses a little crooked on her nose, she shakes her head. “What the fuck was that? How do you do that?”

“I have many talents, Luna.” I quirk an eyebrow at her, enjoying the fact I can make her blush when she’s feeling so unsteady on her feet. “What’s wrong with you?” I ask, assessing her shivering frame.

She is hugging herself and she looks suddenly exhausted. She hesitates, then frowns at me. “I have a... a pain condition. It makes me sensitive to—” She stops and puts her hands into the pockets of her cardigan. “It’s hard to explain. And, frankly, boring.”

Her tone surprises me. The fact I don’t think I could find anything about her boring surprises me even more.

I nod slowly.

I have watched her long enough to know she’s sick. I just never knew what kind of sick.

It’s in the way she moves… as if she is always trying to stop herself from crumbling. As if she is trying to hold the pain inside, trying to stop it from overwhelming her. Eating her up.

“This way.” I lead her down the corridor toward the living room. I do not, contrary to popular belief, own a coffin or have any need for one. But I do keep the mansion blissfully dark.

She will find it oppressive eventually. But, for now, it’s the safest place I can keep her.

Luna follows me. She hangs back several paces as if she’s not sure why she’s here or why she trusts me.

If she trusts me.

The thing is, she shouldn’t trust me.

If she knew… if she’d seen who I am and what I’ve done, she’d run.

Or would she?

I glance back. My eyes catch hers. And there it is again… that flicker of intrigue. The same flicker I saw in the shop when I very first visited her. When she suspected I was a vampire but did not know it for certain.

“Do you remember me?” I ask as I push open the living room door and usher her inside.

Here, the lamps are already lit, and the fire is roaring.

“Professor Lucien Thornfield,” she says, hugging herself a little more tightly as I pour her a glass of whiskey.

I press it into her hands. She sniffs it and her nose wrinkles.

“You came to my shop. Twice.” Her eyes flick up and meet mine.

She has no idea it is my shop. That I am the one who sends her books every week. That I watch her and admire her every day.