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“What? What was that?”
Sorina strode forward, glancing down the road past Kyrie’s house and on to the trailer park. Her voice was softer when she spoke again. “Control is hard to give up, especially when it’s newly claimed after years of having none.”
“Okay.”
She turned to me, blue eyes clear in the night. “Don’t go down there again. It’s not safe.”
“And to the bar?”
She smirked. “Diana won’t let you in. Not unless I say it’s okay.”
I crossed my arms. “And why does she have to wait for your permission? She said she runs the bar.”
“We’re close.”
“Didn’t you just move here?” I asked.
Sorina turned down the road.
I wasn’t eager to get home, but I followed.
“You’re close with that girl, and you just moved here.” She pointed ahead, to where I knew Kyrie’s house would come into view in a block. “Did you ask her to the dance like I suggested?”
“We’re friends,” I repeated.
Sorina glanced at me. “And that’s all she wants to be.”
“Is that a question or a declaration?”
“It’s the truth. So don’t let your little ego convince you otherwise.”
“What, because she’s religious?”
“No, that’s not why she doesn’t want to fuck you, Nicholas.”
I kicked a rock, jarred by her words. I was both fascinated and annoyed by the way she spoke.
“Well, that works out great because I don’t want to fuck her either,” I declared. I didn’t want anyone touching me, wanting me. Greedy hands and mouths made for nights like these. When I couldn’t sleep.
But when I dreamt of something different? Something that didn’t hurt? It was a girl with red hair and long black nails. Black eyes and fangs. A blood-hungry thing. A demon. A ghost.
And in those dreams, I welcomed the hands, the mouth, her flesh. My eyes were red, black hair long and coarse. I wasn’t human, and it felt like I dreamed her into existence.
“You should leave this town, Nicholas,” Sorina said, glancing idly at Kyrie’s house as we passed.
It was dark, but I saw a lace curtain move slightly.
“I’m pretty sure I’m not in charge of where we live. My aunt likes it here. She’s finally feeling settled.”
Sorina glanced at me, eyes roving over my bare arm. I was thinner then, lean, six feet tall, and gangly. I had turned to gluttony after we left the ranch, famished when we stopped at roadside diners and gas stations. But my teenage metabolism cannibalized everything I ate.
I would grow bigger and stronger.
Soon.
Sorina reached out and brushed fingertips over my arm.
It didn’t hurt when her flesh touched mine. “You should eat more,” she said, and I wondered if she could read my mind.
