Page 43 of Thirsty
After a moment, though, the feeling prickled and became more specific—became, somehow, an intangible impression of...Lorenzo. It was as if, even with his eyes closed, evenwith the very real sensation of Lorenzo’s palm clasping his own steadily, he could also feel some shadow version of Lorenzo moving his hand, drifting his fingers over the gash on Charlie’s knuckles. He felt a whisper of heat where this shadow Lorenzo touched him, and then a coarse, verdant sensation that felt like healing.
He shivered.
The dream Lorenzo ran his hands over Charlie’s forearms, the backs of his hands, and a small cut on his jaw, leaving heat and perfection in his wake. Charlie struggled to keep his breathing steady. “Put your hand there—near his forehead,” he dimly heard Roberta say.
Lorenzo’s fingers brushed lightly over Charlie’s temples, and in his trancelike, enchanted state, Charlie felt that warmth again, that luscious rightness. He opened his eyes and looked at Lorenzo, the pain on his face drifting away like steam. Lorenzo was still cradling his head in his palm. Charlie licked his lips and put a hand on Lorenzo’s chest.
And then Charlie blinked his eyes open for real. Lorenzo was sitting across from him, their only contact his fingertips lightly touching Charlie’s forehead. The rest had been—a dream? A vision?
He had no idea, but Lorenzo didn’t meet his eye as he struggled to understand.
“There, see?” Roberta said, crossing her arms as she sat back in satisfaction. “Told you I was a real witch.”
Chapter 12
Lorenzo was making a cocktail when Charlie accosted him in the kitchen, blurting without any preamble: “So I—I heard about something.”
Lorenzo sighed. He hadn’t actually been aware that Charlie was here at his apartment, but Maggie and Rachel invited him over so often now that he couldn’t really be surprised. “Heard about what?”
Charlie bit his lip and stared at him for a moment. “What?” Lorenzo asked, his trepidation rising.
Charlie said, “Remember when Dylan was telling us about those vampire parties he’s worked?”
Lorenzo bent under the counter and found a miniature bottle of gin. He cracked it open and dumped the entire thing into his tumbler of blood. “Yes,” he said.
Charlie was watching him carefully. “You knew about those? About—the other vampires living here, in Brookville?”
Lorenzo shrugged, stirring his cocktail.
“Okay, well—” Charlie continued, “There’s apparently this, like, big deal vampire...” He paused to read the name off his phone. “Sebastian St. Tour de Sang.”
Lorenzo stifled an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. “Oh, him.”
“You know him?” Charlie said. “How come you never said anything?”
Lorenzo shrugged again.
“Well,” Charlie said, “I found out that he’s having this big party tomorrow night, and—I think we should go.”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” Charlie said, wheedling. “But really. We’ve gone to werewolf prom, we’ve gone to the free clinic, we survived an explosion of crystal ball energy—how bad could this be?”
“Bad.”
“How bad?”
Lorenzo searched for the right words for a few moments, before deciding that the unvarnished truth would have to do. “They are dicks.”
Charlie blinked. “They’re...okay,” he said slowly. “But—so what?”
“So I don’t think they’ll answer your questions,” Lorenzo said, sipping his drink. “Most vampires are very private.”
“You answer my questions,” Charlie said with a small grin.
“You entrapped me,” Lorenzo said as Charlie’s grin widened. “Besides,” he added, trying not to sound too personally invested in the question, “why do you need to talk to other vampires for your thesis when you have me?”
Charlie cocked his head to the side, his expression softening.“I can’t base my whole project on information from just one vampire—however helpful he’s been. I need to talk to lots of different people to get a good cross section, including other vampires.”
