Page 53 of Thirsty
They were entirely too appealing, his eyes, and the earnestness of his focus. “Nothing,” Lorenzo muttered.
Charlie pursed his lips a little, but contented himself to study the flower car in wonder, running his fingers over the delicate petals of the roof. Then he spotted the log dashboard. “Do you think it’s in park?” he asked Lorenzo.
He looked for a gear shift but couldn’t find one. “Don’t know. Why?”
Charlie pointed at a dandelion sprouting from the dashboard about where the odometer would be. Then he gingerly pressed on the mushroom pedal to his right.
Individual stamens on the dandelion began to float away, one at a time.
Charlie looked at Lorenzo, giddy with wonder and delight, like the joy of it was a secret they were sharing.Can you believe this?
It caught in Lorenzo’s throat like honey, behind his eyelids like the afterimage of sunlight. Charlie went back to exploringthe car, but Lorenzo sat stone-still as it washed over him in waves; the unsteady feeling that he was too late, in too deep, and had no way of swimming back to shore.
“Look, look,” Charlie said, having realized that if he gently brushed the honeycomb with his fingers, the soundtrack of the movie started playing in the car; a wash of gentle music as Kiki took flight on her broom.
“This is—this is amazing,” he said, smiling warmly at Lorenzo. “Thank you for taking me.”
“You’re welcome,” Lorenzo whispered.
Chapter 15
Next Saturday, Lorenzo took Charlie to a wedding.
The bride and groom were both werewolves, but so far Charlie had found the affair to be indistinguishable from a human wedding—a very expensive one. They were back in the same clearing where the werewolf prom had been, but it was almost unrecognizable, save for the identical, breathtaking view of the town spread out below them. Where the prom had been decorated like a low-budget music video with twinkling lights and streamers, the wedding was pure opulence: panel-glass floors covered the grass and earth, enormous stage lights had been affixed to trees all around the clearing, and in the center of it all, a circular black marble podium was dressed for the ceremony, surrounded by hundreds of delicate, spindly white chairs. It felt elegant and muscular.
And it all glowed under the light of an extremely full moon. Lorenzo had assured him—multiple times—that they would leave well before the moon reached its zenith. Apparently all inter-pack weddings ended with a communal run through thewoods. It was unnerving to realize that almost everyone he could see here now, dressed in their formal best, would transform in a few short hours. But he desperately needed more werewolf content for his column, so it had been an easy choice to come.
So far, the many highly scripted preceremony rituals were more tedious than pulse-pounding. Just in front of the marble podium, the fathers of the bride and groom were toasting each other as the rest of the guests listened respectfully. Charlie got the impression that their remarks were less about the couple than a subtle contest to imply which one of them had paid for more of the wedding.
Charlie and Lorenzo were toward the edge of the clearing, standing with Lorenzo’s friend Gray—the pack’s formal event planner, who had almost kicked Charlie out of the prom. “Have you slept at all in the last three months?” Lorenzo asked him quietly. Gray was clutching his usual clipboard and wearing a ridiculously well-cut suit with fur detail at the cuffs and lapels.
“It doesn’t matter,” Gray said, tossing his head back to cover a nervous twitch in his neck. “Because this toast was the last of it. Everything from here on out is, y’know, whatever.”
“You mean like...the wedding?” Lorenzo said, shooting a small, private grin at Charlie.
Charlie flushed and looked away. Lorenzo looked so good; Charlie couldn’t believe how hard a time he was having acting normally around him, when all he was doing was standing there in his crisp black tux and smiling. It was so stupid. Nothing had happened between them.
Nothing but all of his stupid fantasies come to life.
He didn’t know what had come over him. He had never, ever been intobitingbefore. Playful pain was one thing, butbeing bitten? So that someone could drink his blood? It had never held any appeal.
That was before. Since reconnecting with Lorenzo, he’d started to fantasize about it: Lorenzo slamming him against a wall, pushing him around, grinding their bodies together, and leaning in for a painful bite at the soft, vulnerable juncture of his neck—piercing, achy, and sweet.
In reality, it hadn’t been nearly so dramatic. Lorenzo had made it look like he was manhandling Charlie, but he’d only guided him into place with his big, careful hands. He was cool to the touch, but not unpleasantly so—being wrapped in his arms felt like sinking into cool sheets after a long day. And even though his skin was cool, touching it had made Charlie flush with heat that he could still feel creeping up his spine. He couldn’t stop hearing Lorenzo’s low almost-growl when he’d grabbed him; couldn’t stop feeling the phantom touch of Lorenzo’s lips just barely grazing his skin.
He wanted Lorenzo to bite him. He had no idea what lay beyond what they’d done at the vampire party, but he didn’t care.
He needed it.
It occurred to him that he hadn’t dreamt of Lorenzo once since that first, startlingly hot dream. He missed it. Maybe in a dream he could have found some relief from this aching preoccupation with getting bit. All he had now were daydreams, daydreams that were...
Leading him to stare at Lorenzo shamelessly. His small smile widened a bit as he noticed Charlie’s attention. “Like the tux?”
“Mm-hmm,” Charlie said, strangled. He prayed that was all Lorenzo thought it was—the intoxicating effects of formal wear.
Not the desire for Lorenzo to touch him, pierce him—drink him down.
He cleared his throat, focusing on Gray. “So, um, the actual—wedding part’s not important?”
