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“Can you run faster than a speeding bullet?”
“How am I to know how fast a bullet travels?”
“How about a train?”
“I’ve never measured my speed. Is it not enough to say we’re fast?”
“But how fast?”
“Why are you so interested in such things?”
“Why are you so uninterested? Don’t you think it’s neat?”
He considered her question for a moment. “It is what I always have been. Do you think it is neat that your hair grows or that you can walk on two feet?”
She jumped over a downed log and landed with amazing agility. “Now, I do. I’m like super-dexterous Barbie.” She did a cartwheel that ended with a flip. “Woo-hoo! Come on, Ken!”
“What is Ken?”
By dawn she was ready to rest. They crossed several state lines, and she wasn’t exactly sure how many miles they traveled. “How much longer?”
“We should be there by the time the sun is directly overhead.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“About five more hours.”
Good thing they were built for endurance.
She spent the next mile observing him, taking in every detail from the fullness of his lower lip to the sureness of his steps. Christian was unfairly beautiful and she could admire his lean, muscular body for days.
“Delilah.”
“Huh?”
“Your filthy thoughts will only slow us down.”
“Why?” She turned, skipping alongside of him at a silly trot. “Do they make you want to do dirty things to me?”
His nostrils flared and his eyes dilated. Those silver irises bore into her as if marking her with his gaze alone. “Yes.” He glanced back at the animals trailing them. “Hunger can be confusing around so many mortals. We should stop for a bit to feed.”
By feed, he meant fuck. That was probably wise.
She stopped skipping and knelt, trying to entice the animals close enough so she could pet them. Most of them scurried whenever Christian turned, probably because he was a dangerous predator, but some of the braver ones ventured close to her and curiously sniffed her fingers.
“Look, Christian,” she whispered as a small squirrel came right to her extended hand. She wasn’t compelling them with any effort of her own—as if she even knew how to do that. She simply existed, and they wanted to come to her.
“I should feed as well,” he said
She hoped he would. It had been days since he took her vein, and she missed sharing that intimate act with him. When he remained still, she glanced up at him, but he was looking at the animals.
A cold dread settled in her stomach. “No, Christian. You can’t feed from them.”
“In order for you to feed I need to replenish my blood. It’s how it works.”
“You can’t. They trust me.”
His gaze moved to the larger creatures in the distance, settling on the three doe and a fawn. “I wouldn’t hurt them. I make sure they feel nothing, not even fear.”
She understood he fed from the animals on the farm, but this seemed more barbaric, namely because she was present for it. The logical part of her mind reminded her this was more humane than shopping for meat at the grocery store. At least when he fed no animals died. Her romantic heart still didn’t like the idea.
“Fine.” She stood. “But I’m walking. You can catch them yourself.”
“Don’t go too far.”
Shaking her head, she strolled in the direction they had been moving. “Don’t choke on a deer tick.”
When they finally reached her apartment, it was much later than noon. After Christian fed, he insisted on feeding her and that led to other things, which ended up delaying them for several hours. The novelty of walking had worn off by the time they reached her neighborhood.
The sight of her apartment building restored a sense of self she’d almost forgotten. A pile of bills and weekly sales papers scattered outside of her door reminding her how long she’d been away.
She patted her pockets and looked up at Christian. “Um, I don’t have my key.”
He looked at the door and held out his palm. The latch clicked and the door popped open.
She gaped at the open door. “See! That’s the sort of Harry Potter stuff I should be learning.”
Pressing open the door to her home, she anticipated familiar smells but recoiled at the stench of stale air and sour God knows what. The kitchen reeked. A bowl of fruit on the counter had rotted to mush, and tiny fruit flies had claimed it as their utopia.
She carried it to the trash and gagged when she dumped it inside. “Sorry. I didn’t have a chance to properly clean before my last kidnapping. In the future, a little notice would give me some time to prepare.” She tied up the trash bag and tossed it into the hall. “I’ll deal with that later.” Opening the fridge, she found nothing that appealed. “I’m gonna order a pizza.”
Christian glanced around. He picked up a bottle of nail polish and read the label. “You have so many possessions.”
