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“I sent him out. I had a feeling you were coming to visit.” He smiled, walking over to the stereo to put on some music. None of that Grateful Dead stuff or Van Morrison, thank goodness. It was Miles Davis. Bitches Brew.
Allegra sat on his bed, feeling shy suddenly. Even though they had kissed enough times over the course of a month that her mouth regularly felt bruised as a fruit, she still felt nervous about what she was about to do. So instead of looking at him, she investigated his bookshelves. There was a print on his wall. Not a poster. A lithograph. “You like Basquiat?”
“He’s bit overhyped right now, but yeah.”
“Didn’t take you for a collector.”
“I guess you just don’t know me that well,” he said, sitting on the office chair at his desk. He was wearing a white lacrosse T-shirt and boxer shorts, and his hair was wet from a shower.
“What are you doing way over there?” she asked, patting the empty space next to her.
He moved to sit next to her, and they snuggled together; and she pulled him close so she could smell the wonderful, boyish smell of him, of laundry detergent and Ivory soap and just a hint of aftershave.
“Hey,” Ben said, hovering over her. He removed his T-shirt, tossing it to the side of the room. His chest was broad, hard to the touch, sculpted and defined. Allegra thrilled to run her hands over his skin.
She was about to remove her top when he stopped her. He took her hands and gently pushed them away, and then with his teeth he unbuttoned each of her pajama buttons. She laughed when he looked surprised to see a camisole underneath.
“Tricky.”
“I thought it shouldn’t be too easy, right?”
“Hmmm.”
He pushed off the straps of the camisole and then his head was on her chest, and she tugged him forward so that her hand was on the waistband of his shorts. She kissed his neck and his chest and felt the entire length of his body press against hers, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
Neither of them spoke, and then Allegra whispered, “There’s something you don’t know about me.”
“What’s that?” he asked huskily.
This was it. It was time. This was what she had come to his room to do. She lifted up his chin so that he could see her clearly. Then she bared her fangs.
He looked at them in wonder but without fear. “You’re a…”
“Vampire. Yes. You’re not afraid?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Maybe I should be, but I feel like…I’m looking at the real you. Like I’m seeing who you really are, for the first time. And you’re beautiful. More beautiful, if that’s even possible.”
“When a vampire takes first blood, she marks her human as her familiar. You would be…mine,” she explained. God, she wanted him so much. She could smell his blood underneath his skin, could already tell that it was going to be delicious and full of life—full of his unique and vital life force. She wanted him to be part of her, she wanted to be inside him and of him. She wanted him now.
“Legs, are you asking me to go steady?” he joked.
“It’s more than that,” she said gently. “You would be mine your entire life. You would never love another.” Why was she telling him all the secrets of the Sacred Kiss? Just bite him and get it over with. And yet she wanted to—she wanted to give him a chance. A chance to choose his own destiny. “It’s not going to hurt,” she said.
“Oh, but I kind of want it to,” he said, gazing up at her. “Hurt me, please.”
“This isn’t a joke, Ben. Do you really want me to…?”
He nodded. He had chosen. “I’m up for it. Whatever it is. As long as it means I’ll always be with you.”
She kissed the base of his neck. She paused for a moment and let her fangs tease him, pricking his skin. She felt his excitement build, and at the right moment, she bit him as hard as she could. He clenched underneath and pulled her closer, his hands on her waist and their bodies joined together.
She drank his blood.
It was wonderful, more wonderful than she had imagined. It was glorious and she saw his every memory, learned his every secret—not that he had too many—he was an open book—filled with light and love—
Then something terrible happened.
Everything was wrong. The blood—what was in his blood? Dear God—what was this? Poison? Had he already been marked by another vampire? It could not be—she hadn’t seen any of the signs, nothing to indicate that…
